Disfrutar = to enjoy

So here we are, about 2.5 weeks into my new permanent home, and I really can’t believe how fast time has gone! It has been an easy few weeks, and I haven’t felt any new jolt of fear like I thought I would. My family has been great about making me feel at home, and they do everything to treat me as part of the family, including making me wash dishes and help make the tortillas. It’s a fun, interesting group of people that live here, and coming home to them everyday has been great. The rest of the town has been very accepting of my sitemate and I as well, and we’ve become regulars in the only store that sells Diet Coke.

I’m still slowly adjusting to work life, and haven’t exactly found out where I can be used. My town has an amazingly advanced agricultural team, and I sometimes feel out of place and useless. They’ve very graciously taken me along with them at (almost) every opportunity, but sometimes, as I’m clinging onto one of them on the back of their motorcycles, I wonder if they’re confused about why I’m here. I think most volunteers go through this, and we were told over and over that the first three months are disorienting and sometimes boring, but it’s still a shock to go from busting ass on Peace Corps schedule, to the slower pace of a small town. I’m shocked sometimes by how at ease the people are with doing absolutely nothing, because if you ask any temporarily unproductive American “What did you do today?” you will either get a sheepish “Well, there wasn’t much to do” or the joking “I’ve just been so lazy! What’s gotten into me?” response. Here, the nonchalantly say “Ahorrita, no estoy hacienda nada. Tal vez despues del almuerzo, pero solo si no tengo sueño.” This isn’t to say they’re lazy, or don’t get anything accomplished here, but time is much more fluid, and there isn’t much time wasted on work. And I do mean wasted. Because really, even though you call it work, you can still be wasting your time.

The main guy I work with, and my chauffer and guide most of the time, is Gustavo. He’s pretty much my best friend here, and is absolutely the bomb. He just turned 22, and is studying for a degree in Agricultural Engineering. We’ve gotten to be good friends, and he was the officially the first Guatemalan boy I gave my number to. We head out on the motorcycle most days to “conocer” (get to know) the aldeas, and the people in them. He’s extremely personable, and seems to know basically everybody, so he’s great at introductions and keeps me included in conversation (and keeps me updated on the gossip.) He even took me to a nearby aldea, Las Delicias, that is known for hat-making, and I currently have a half-formed sombrero sadly sitting at the foot of my bed, waiting for another trip up the mountain. If I can master it, it’s probably what all of you will be getting for Christmas (not this year, I’m not a magician!) The women there love laughing at my lack of palm-weaving skills, but assured me that since I was getting better at making tortillas and was finally getting a tan, maybe someday a Guatemalan might want to marry me. One can only hope. All I have left to learn is how to turn any vegetable or fruit into atol (a weirdly sweet drink made from random things like beans, squash, or bananas) and to be able to wash all my clothes by hand without leaving my ever-present soap streaks all over them.

Our town also celebrated its feria (HUGE town celebration in honor of the patron saint, but mainly an excuse to drink and dance) and Brynna and I invited a few of our Oriente friends into town. What followed was probably the most perfect day ever. I woke up at 4am to the sounds of drunk men singing outside the door, a tradition of serenading all the women in the town, and was forced by my madre to go out to the truck, full of boys ranging from teens to old men, to give them all a hug. They then offered me a shot of homemade kusha, but being the shy, innocent girl that I am (and it being 4am) I declined. I then had my usual breakfast of coffee and about half a dozen cookies (if you call it “pan dulce” it’s ok to eat it for breakfast; ask Jim Gaffigan) and started getting ready for the day. I coaxed my younger sister, Janet, into walking in the “procession” with me, which consisted of about 60 people loudly singing off-key, and a giant gringa awkwardly shuffling along. It was great though, because if you’re going to be part of a town, you have to march in a religious parade at least once a week. After that, I sat down to an amazing lunch of tamales with the familia, and waited for my friends to arrive. The first set of people came in from Chiquimula (Kristen, Lexi, and Jesse) and after catching up for a bit, we dove right in to making mojitos for the entire family and enjoying an early afternoon family drinking session. Amazing. Next was the “jaripeo” (rodeo) and after meeting up with some coworkers and finding seats, Gustavo and I went to buy a few dozen beers, and the socializing began again. There’s seriously nothing better than looking around at your two completely separate groups of friends, and seeing new bonds being formed. I love both the volunteers I’ve gotten to know, and the people at my office. Both groups really made an effort, and I’m pretty sure everyone had a great time. Oh, and there was bull-riding too, so I hear. So afterwards, back to the house to relax, change clothes, cook some spaghetti, and get ready for the big “baile” (dance) that night. After a quick goodbye to the family, we headed to the rented hotel room to booze and joke around, and were soon full of Venado and Squiz, a truly lethal combination. The baile was great, and all of my friends were kept busy with plenty of male suitors, while I danced with the gringo volunteer that puked on everybody from the top of the “rueda” (ferris wheel) earlier in the evening. What a match. At least he (mostly) kept me from falling down, even in my huge heels. We finally made it home at 2am, and feasted on the best combination I’ve ever put together: spaghetti with pasta sauce and refried beans on top. Try it. Amazing. All in all, a fantastic day.

So now as I lay here, trying to go to sleep despite the sounds of a cat being murdered outside my door, and the telltale rustle of rats coming into my room to sleep for the night, I feel content. My friend, Kristen, noted that I seemed happier here. More relaxed. More at home. It’s all true. This is exactly where I’m meant to be, and despite any frustrations, I’m looking forward to every day.

Empezar = to begin, to start

(So this blog post is a week old. Bear with me; I’m putting up a new one soon.)

Friday (Oct. 29) was the big day. We all put on our finest, and headed into Guate to the Ambassador’s house to officially swear-in as Peace Corps volunteers and employees of the United States of America. The part you actually say aloud is actually pretty cool, and you basically affirm that you will protect and defend the Constitution of the United States of America. No pressure or anything. It was a fairly quick ceremony, and at the end you could feel the happiness spread through the new volunteers. We were ready to begin.

It’s easy to forget that when we signed up for the Peace Corps, we were signing up for 27 months, not just two years. And these 3 extra months have been something completely different from what I imagined when I thought of Peace Corps. Training was……exhausting. I didn’t stop to think during training about whether or not I was doing something difficult, or if I enjoyed what my days were like. It quickly just became what my life was. But my god, I’m glad it’s over. I’ve realized now that although I completely love what I’m doing, and I’m overwhelmingly honored to be here, I also unfortunately have had some problems with Peace Corps admin. They don’t seem to think my personality fits here, or that I will become a security risk, or some other vague “you’re just too much of a square peg for this round hole” type of argument. I still don’t understand why I have a huge red flag hanging over my head, but I do know I will work twice as hard to prove to them that there isn’t one type of person that can excel in Peace Corps or in Guatemala.

So I finally start my two years. To be honest, in some ways it’s the countdown clock that has started to tick. That makes this seem like a chore, and something I’m counting down until it’s over, but no matter how happy I am to be here, there will always be that sense of a time limit. Some days I’m sure I will be thinking “thank god, only 15 months left” and other days will be “how can I possibly only have 15 months left??” Either way, it feels good to be walking the streets of the town I will call home for the next few years. I’m excited to get to know these people and be part of their lives.

Starting my service also has me thinking about my role here in Guatemala. We have been trained to think that we are some integral agents of change, and that what we will do will impact someone every day. I have brought this up to others in my training group before, and I know that it’s offensive to some, but part of me just feels like a farmer. The goals of my program are to start 15 family gardens, 3 school gardens, and talk about the importance of nutrition and proper chicken care. After I leave, the gardens could be abandoned, the kids could stop caring about vegetables, the people could go back to eating what’s easiest, and the chicken coups could fall into disarray. What’s my impact? Because the physical, tangible goals of my project have the possibility of being short-term, I want to focus more on my people interactions, and hopefully finding a finding a passion in myself that I can share and fuel in others.