Tales of Guate IV: Rain, Ruins, and Bodily Fluids

Rainy season has set in. The nonstop metaphoric rains of which I talked about in my last missive have now taken physical shape. The rain comes everyday. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, and sometimes in the night. But it never misses a day. Finally, something I can depend on.

Sometimes the rain here is gentle. Sometimes it pours hard, like a thundergod bemoaning the loss of his thundergoddess. The majority of the time, however, the rain is just constant, strong, and warm. Much like a good friend.

Clearly, if you are keeping track of my adventures, you’ll notice that I have gone two months without so much as a word. These past two months have been somehow harder to put into words than the first four. I think that is because the logistical aspects of living here have settled down into an almost normal routine (this is not a complaint). I finally have my DSL service set up (please see bottom for Skype info), my money is in order, I am speaking the language well enough, and I know my way around the city. I even have cable TV. (They say it’s a good tool for learning Spanish.) And so, my brain has had ample time to focus on the emotional aspects of my being here which are harder to share in such a public forum.

Translation: I don’t want to bitch and moan at large.

But I would like to share some of what has transpired.

First off, I was granted my extension. As luck would have it, I had to make the decision whether or not to take it during a somewhat tumultuous minute and half during which I was no longer sure I really wanted it. I didn’t know what to do. The wheels were already in motion, the contract drafted, the check cut, and I was sick with a four-week parasitic wonder, still reeling from being left clothes-less from the robbery, and having sticky relationship issues. In addition, I was having trouble getting my university to commit to the exactitudes of a contract and the Embassy was doing little to help me out. In the end, I signed the embassy contract for the extension. I did it for the learning process, because my Spanish is still a paltry intermediate mess, at best. I did it for the money, which is not a fortune, but more than I would be saving in San Francisco or New York. I did it for the experience, which has its ups and downs, but is never short of moments. And frankly, I did it because I said I would do it and felt I should do it. And so now it has been done. I will be here until September 30.

The first semester of classes ended in the third week of May, and I have not been teaching for almost five weeks. So, you may (or may not) wonder, what have I been doing?

Mostly, traveling.

My brother, Keith, came out here mid-May and we traveled for a week together through the most popular tourist destinations of Guatemala on roads that left my brother wondering how there are still so many people alive in Guatemala. We were accompanied the first few days by my friend Dianna, who had been previously hanging around in Costa Rica. The three of us started our journey by heading out to Tikal for two days, the most famous site of Mayan ruins in Guatemala and beyond. Tikal is truly incredible, especially if you get up before sunrise and wander into the park and just gaze, in silence, at the enormous stone buildings that once were palaces and residences of Mayan folks who weren’t low on dough.

We took a little tour and learned where the royal ones bathed and had their babies and sat on their thrones. Tikal was buried under brush and forestation until it was discovered some years ago, and apparently many believe there is more to be discovered with a good, solid, archeological weedwacker. It is surrounded by total jungle and the most exciting part was when Keith discovered a giant spider in my bed which he was certain was hunting for prey. The spider was actually more afraid of us than we were of it, but even so we kept it for one day on display outside our hotel room trapped in a tall water glass.

Keith and I also did a canopy tour, but it was somewhat sketchier than the one I had done in Costa Rica. In Costa Rica, we had helmets, English-speaking trained guides, and a pre-departure lesson. In Tikal, we had three teenage boys who spoke no English drive us through some bumpy roads, hand us a couple of harnesses that looked like they were acquired at Walmart, quickly flash a how-to pamphlet, and send us flying down the line.

"Who's first?" the eldest, 14, asked us in Spanish. Keith looked at me and said, respectfully, "You are."


After that, we headed to Antigua and then to the beautiful Lake Atitlan. Lake Atitlan is this tranquil, wide lake that is surrounded by looming volcanoes. All was going well until, all in one night, I got violently ill, Dianna and I almost set my room on fire, my brother and I discovered, too late, that our beds were infested with fleas, and my brother lost a chunk of quetzales in a local poker game. Things went downhill from there.


It seems that there are two things I can’t seem to avoid in Guatemala – stomach parasites and fleas. I am starting to feel like a pet. I have a whole new empathy for Snoopy and Garfield. Life just sucks when bugs are constantly feeding on you.

The vacation got somewhat worse when, on the last day, my brother and I received news that one of our very close relatives passed away. Within hours, we were both on the plane back to New York. I was unable to get a seat on Keith’s direct flight, so I took the indirect flight, which stopped in Honduras, and cost nearly a thousand dollars, familiarizing myself with airplane and airport lavatories along the way.

It was a terribly sad event for many of us, especially my father, who was very close to my cousin Rhona, who is missed by so many. But I felt blessed to be, even for only two days, surrounded by family again.

Somehow in the midst of all of this, my father managed to take me to a real, Western doctor in New Jersey to check out the recurrence of my digestive mishaps. OK, actually the doctor’s English wasn’t that good and she thought Guatemala was in Mexico, but my brother comforted me by saying that these other lackings were because she concentrated so hard on medicine. Anyway, at least she was able to send me for the tests I needed. My dad and I spent a memorable father-daughter bonding day together, as I had various fluids extracted from me.

I didn’t realize a stool test was a test you could fail, but apparently there is a science to filling up those little vials. There is brightly-colored liquid you cannot spill, there are minimum amounts which you must measure, there are temperatures which you must not exceed. There are four vials that you must fill. And if you do not conform with these various guidelines, your test is not accepted and you must register to take it again. It is worse than the GRE.

I did not do well my first time around and was shamefully forced to request a second set of containers to try again. Knowing that we were on a tight deadline, and that I had already failed the test once, my dad and I set out for a greasy spoon diner and I, who had been eating nothing but rice and bananas for several weeks, sat down to a cheese-covered veggie burger, diner salad bar, and strong cup of coffee. I made it halfway through the meal before having to excuse myself from the table. Pleased with the success of our plan, we headed back to the lab and I proudly handed over my materials. The lines had all been reached, the containers full, I had done well.

“You are missing the green container,” said the lab tech in between sloshing to and fro what seemed like an oversized Jolly Rancher around in her mouth. Considering the subject at hand, the sound made me feel sick.

“The green one?” I said. “They told me the green one was supposed to be thrown away!” I was furious. It was like being told I had to retake the whole test because I didn’t use a Number 2 pencil or skipped one of the bubbles on the answer sheet.

“Who did you talk to before?” said the lab tech.
“A lady,” I responded.
“The black one, the white one, the Latin one?” she pressed. I couldn’t remember. And, of course, it didn’t matter. The problem was still the green one. And so my dad and I ventured back to the diner bathroom to find the discarded “green one” and finish the deed.

At the end of the day, my father put his arm around me, smiled, and said, “The next time you’re in, let’s maybe go to a museum, yes?”

The next day, I left on a direct flight back to Guatemala, was here for all of two days, and then, feeling much better after finishing my parasite-killer meds, headed out for my pre-planned trip to the United States, which was to start in San Francisco. I spent a total of 10 days in San Francisco and New York, which flew by much faster than any two days I spend here in Guatemala. I seriously think I lost time. In San Francisco, my main goal, apart from visiting with friends was to torture said friends with the task of helping me shop to replace all of my stolen belongings. My friends did well. They had way more patience than I did. My other main goal was to eat. And I ate. I ate salads. I ate fish. I ate tofu and seitan and tempeh and brown rice and seaweed and fresh broccoli and cooked carrots and udon noodles. I drank tap water. Gleefully. And I am happy to say that I put back on all of the weight I had lost from the parasites. And then some. I left San Francisco exhausted, but feeling well-fed, well-loved, and, finally, well-clothed.

Next stop was New York. The primary mission in NY was to spend time with my family. It was good, but a bit exhausting because, unlike in San Francisco where I was housed by my roomies at 3020 Market and based in one place, my family in NY is very spread out and I slept somewhere different every night. Canarsie, Park Slope, New Jersey. Beds, sofas, armchairs. I only got into Manhattan twice, both for short jaunts, one a social trip (which included a stop at Zen Palate) and the other a determined mission to Century 21. I met my brother downtown for lunch and we took a photo together in front of the big hole in the sky where the Twin Towers used to stand. We marveled at how much light now escaped into the center of the city, and I wished they would just replace the much-lamented, missing architectural monstrosity with a pretty little park, which would cost a hell of a lot less money than another giant skyscraper and would be appreciated by everyone. But I know they won’t. Some greens, clearly, trump others.

I came back to Guatemala for a week of traveling around with a visiting English Language specialist named Raouf Mama, an African storyteller from Benin who is a professor at Eastern Connecticut. I was his assistant for the trip and it was an exhausting, but rewarding week, during which we traveled together to different institutions in Guatemala City so that he could give seminars and then to Quetzaltenango, where we both took part in a conference of English language teachers. He is a wise and spiritual man, and when I started to get sick again in Quetzaltenango, he simply told me, “You will be better tomorrow.” And I was.

Quetzaltenango is a nice northern town but, spoiled as I have become to temperate Guatemala City, I was freezing. And though I was traveling with guests of the Embassy, I was not staying at the same hotel. There was no heat at my hotel, I never did get the hot water to function properly in the shower and, at the end of the week, I was ready to return home. I did, however, meet a few girls in the Peace Corps in Huehuetenango, and we had a fun night out at a middle eastern restaurant. (Safe "Guatemalan" food can be amazingly hard to come by in Guatemala.)

Upon returning, I had a few days to get some things settled with work stuff - not an easy task when people here decidedly don’t return phone calls and emails. Then, I headed to Copan in Honduras for two days to see the ruins and museums there. The Copan ruins are also Mayan ruins but completely different in style. The sculptures are really intriguing. Personally, I liked the paws.

Most of the sculptures are intricate carvings of past rulers with names like Eighteen Rabbit and Smoke Jaguar. They sound like they are straight out of Alice in Wonderland, but actually they were fairly egotistical and ruthless and, during their time on the throne, it was not out of the ordinary for sacrifices and beheadings to ensue.

Back in the days of the Mayans, there was this ball-throwing game, and there are left-over stadiums to attest to its popularity. Likewise, the World Cup has taken this country by storm and teachers at my university actually cancelled classes so that their students wouldn’t have to miss watching the games on TV. (The students probably paid them off.) The fanaticism is similar. Only difference is that back then you got sacrificed at the altar if you played poorly; here, you just get booed at and hissed.

One more thing I want to say is about sexism. It's rampant.

This society often seems, on the outside, to be progressing and moving along. Many women work and are in positions of power. But on the inside, the situation of the middle class is a complete throwback to the ‘50s. There are issues of ownership, jealousy, and a general freaking-out that something is about to give.

Feminism is happening here, but no one wants to admit it. In fact, "feminism" is a really dirty word in Guatemala. If you call yourself a feminist here, it means you are akin to Loretta Bobitt. It means you want all men to die. The women are tired of the Latin machismo, but they are terrified of “feminism.” They think it makes them lesbians. Which, of course, is a fate worse than death. And if the women are terrified of feminism, then the men are shitting in their pants because they think it's evil, and threatens their very lives. But, it seems inevitable. So, it’s an interesting time to be here and watch these changes slowly come into motion.

Many of the young women of the middle and higher classes are now refusing to get married, which, of course, is not necessarily the solution, but might, for the moment, be necessary. Marriage means babies (though often pregnancy dictates marriage). The right to choose is supported by only the most radical "feminist" groups and is looked upon in disgust by the masses. But though the country swears by Christian, old-fashioned values, the divorce rate here is starting to put the US to shame. I think it is both an exciting and difficult time to be a woman here.

I asked my students to write editorials on something controversial. One of my students wanted to write an editorial on International Women’s Day. Thinking she was taking an easy way out, I said, jokingly, “Oh, there’s a subject that’s going to cause riots in the street.”

The class didn’t get my sarcasm. But, within moments, they had broken out into a raging debate. Half the students, or more, the majority of whom are women, felt this day should be outlawed. They felt it wasn’t fair to men. They thought it was radical and offensive. I was astounded that this was such a heated subject. I allowed her to write the editorial.

For me, of course, the bigger question is when is the war in Iraq going to end? I had a good friend here for the first four months of my stay. He is a young Marine who was temporarily stationed in Guatemala. Now, he is, for the second time, on duty in Iraq. We had dinner two nights before he left. Over wine and some kind of fish, the name of which I can’t recall, he started talking to me about why he joined the service in the first place.

“I never wanted to kill anybody,” he said. “I just wanted to be someone.”

My love to all of you. Please keep in touch.

Peace and Love,
Karen

PS. I want to mention that I now have Skype and anyone who has it can talk for free via the computer. If you have a high-speed internet connection, just go to http://www.skype.com/ and download the program. All you need are headphones and a mic. If you have speakers on your computer, you can use those and just plug in headphones. If you don’t have either, they sell a cheap all-in-one mic-headset at any of the regular electronic stores. IT IS SO EASY. Once you download the program, just add me as a contact. My Skype name is karenmacklin. If you have a contact name, send it to me. This is technology at its free-est and its finest. It’s a wonder of an invention. GET SKYPE! :)