Scabies Free

Although I havent reported on this in any sort of detail, I have alluded to the fact that I have/had numerous bug bites on my body, primarily on my legs, feet, waist, and elbows. Throughout my time in Xela, the number of bug bites on my body has looked a lot like the stock market in the 90s, rising a lot and not falling often. I asked the doctors at my school numerous times if they thought I had a problem and they all just said that I probably had fleas or bed bugs. I asked my host mother to wash my sheets a few times but the bites kept on coming. (At the time of writing I am thinking that fleas lived in my wool blanket). The bites were at an all time high when I arrived at the Bianchis as the weekend before I had stayed at the coffee plantation, the central home of the Guatemalan insect. As soon as I itched for the first time. Lorena’s mother, Lia, asked me what was going on and I said that I had a lot of bites everywhere and showed her.  Immediately, a worried expression came to her face, and she said she though I had sarna, or scabies and she had done a lot of previous research on this topic. While she was concerned, I remained calm…I mean I am in Guatemala and have no control over what crawls on or in me. She called a doctor that lives in the neighborhood and he said he would come by the house later but fortunately a cousin of the family stopped by sooner who was also a doctor. Her cousin, Ana, looked over my body and preceeded to ask me out on a date (oh, good one) and then let me know that her professional opinion was that I did not have scabies and only fleas. Score!

I am happy to report that a week later, and with a set of newly washed clothes, my bites have faded and I have not gotten any new ones recently. I am sure there will be more to come but in the meantime I am enjoying the nights, itch free. itching.

Updates Coming Soon…

Sorry guys, I have been without internet access and my computer for the last five days (well I did have 15 minutes) so have not been able to post. The last week has been amazing…my first Christmas and Christmas presents, the discovery that I do not have scabies, climbing an active volcano and standing within five feet of a river of lava, staying in my dream house in Rio Dulce, learning how to water ski, sleeping with a mosquito net, and traveling en solito, and much more. I will definitely have these posted by the New Year. Time for bed!

Day and Night

I just finished an incredible lunch of lightly breaded chicken with bits of broccoli in the breading, silky smooth mashed potatoes, buttery green peas and carrots, and some tortillas. To top it off, I had plantains and ice cream for dessert. My favorite! As I allow my food to digest, I am relaxing in the comforts of Guatemala City at my friend Lorena’s house, the same house where I stayed during my first two days in the country. I love it here. I love her house and I love her family. Everything here is so comfortable, clean, and “normal”, strongly contrasting with my life over the last seven weeks. The life that privileged Guatemalans, such as the Bianchi family, have in this city is extremely different than the lives of the majority of Guatemalans. It is like day and night, night and day.

I came to Guatemala City (or Guate) by bus yesterday and was feeling pretty much annoyed with everyone and everything. I love Xela and am definitely going back to study and live there soon, but I desperately needed a break. All the little inconveniences of living in a developing country with a lower class family started to catch up with me. I couldn’t take any more corn, eggs, beans, or bread. My stomach had enough. I was tired of all my bug bites (more on this at a later date as the bites are definitely not only mosquitoes) and tired of being freezing at night and hoping for a hot shower. Then I arrived at the bus station to Guate and I felt even more frustrated; honestly I felt like strangling someone. Fortunately, I was not on a chicken bus or I would have. I took a second-class bus that only costs around two dollars more and is pretty standard travel between Xela and Guate. Still, the second class bus cannot even hold a candle to the normal coach buses in the States. The company told me that the bus was leaving at noon when really it left at 12:30pm. A little baby was crying her head off for the first two hours of the ride while her bratty sister yelled at her parents. As the bus, bumped and curved around the road, badly in need of repair, little pieces of the ceiling fell down on me. At the hour mark, a big, fat Mayan old woman in all her glory plopped down next to me and did not quite understand the phrase “personal space.” As we sped around the curves of the mountain road, definitely exceeding the speed limit, she was basically in my lap while her recently purchased bottle of orange soda literally sat in my lap.

As I mentioned the mountain road that connects Guate and Xela is badly in need of repair and amazingly the Guatemalan government has recognized the same thing. So for the last couple of years and what I am sure will continue into the next few years, the road has been under construction. Not only is the road being repaired but also an additional lane is being added on each side that will turn it into a four lane highway. The construction project is definitely a large one as they have to cut into and blow up the mountains in order to create space for these extra lanes. The downside of this project is that my bus, along with all of the other vehicles on the road, was forced to stop and wait every fifteen minutes for dumptrucks and other vehicles to pass by. We also stopped various other times because the bus driver, who should run for president of this country, seemed to know EVERY single person on the side of the road and just HAD to stop the bus, get out, and talk to all his friends for five minutes at a time. The idea of service just does not exist in Guatemala. I think if my Spanish was a little bit better, I would have cussed out the driver, told the parents of the crying baby to stuff a pacifier in her mouth, asked those same parents how the hell they did such a poor job raising their oldest daughter who had to be the most spoiled, snotty little seven year old brat I had ever laid eyes on, and told the fat Mayan woman to move her arms from my body and never touch me again. I also wanted to just randomly punch people in the face as a show of my frustrations with Guatemala. BUT, thankfully I still have a lot of work to do on my Spanish and neither said or did any of the above, and only mumbled English frustrations under my breath that I hoped no one could understand or hear. Whooo, I feel much better now.

Eventually, I moved to the open row further back on the bus and felt better but still tried to figure out how a 200km journey (120 miles for those of you back home) could consistently take over five hours. About three and half hours into the journey, I was able to witness a live infomercial when a man on the bus (I don’t know where he came from) got up and began a thirty minute talk about herbal medicine while trying to sell his magic herbal pills. His speech and the fact that at least two Guatemalans bought bottles of pills cracked me up and I once again laughed at the absurdity and chaos within this country.

The bus arrived into Zone 1, the center of the city and the red-light district, around 6pm and I hurriedly found a taxi to take me into the outskirts of the city, the comfortable and upper middle class Zone 15. Driving through the entrance of the gated community as the day turned to night, I immediately felt like I was in a different world. Stepping through the security gate outside of Lorena’s house, it was hard to imagine that the same morning I was rolling down the gritty streets of Xela surrounded by people just looking to make a few quetzals so they could eat that night. Coming into a spotless kitchen where Lorena’s mother Lia (who I adore) was busily baking Christmas cookies, I tried to picture the senora in my house in Xela baking anything that was not a necessity. Eating lettuce and tomato on my sandwich at dinner, I felt at ease knowing I would not get sick, a foreign feeling to me during these last seven weeks while I was eating pretty much anything, especially fruits and vegetables. And going to a Christmas party in an upscale apartment building with Lorena and her cousin, surrounded by the fortunate and privileged of Guatemala with their brand new imported cars, nice clothes, and years of solid education, I wondered if all these attractive 20 and 30 something year olds knew had good they had it.

I won’t lie and say that I feel any sort of contempt or harbor any bad feelings toward the rich. In reality, I enjoyed being at the party, enjoyed getting drunk off free alcohol, and felt a weird sort of comfort being around others who I imagine grew up similar to me. But it all felt strange. The party felt like it could be taking place in my own community at home. The faces were not nearly as brown and different as the ones were in Xela. The faces looked more like mine, clearly reflecting a life of few physical hardships and a decent amount of comfort. It was weird being there seeing a completely different side of Guatemala. And I wondered. Did I truly recognize all of the hardships people were experiencing all over my community when I was growing up? Did I just live in my own bubble, happy and ignorant? My belief is that it fell somewhere in the middle. But the poverty is not nearly as pronounced in the States as it is here. Here it is unavoidable. But did all these people at the party manage to avoid it somehow?!?

One thing is certain as I sit here on my pullout sofa, digesting my delicious lunch, using the wireless internet and at the same time realizing that I am in Guatemala learning Spanish, experiencing new cultures, and expanding my mind; I know that I am happy to be here, happy to be alive, and I appreciate everything a whole lot more.

Leaving Xela…temporarily…as a Scrabble Champion

I got the itch. I got the feeling. I just needed to get out of Xela for a couple of weeks. So a week ago, I called my friend Lorena in Guatemala City to ask if I could stay at her house for a couple of days. My original plan was to then travel around for a couple of weeks after that before probably returning to Xela. Then I received a message from my other Guatemalan friend, Wicha, that said she was going to be home, in the capital, during her Christmas vacation. So I think I may be staying with her family for Christmas and then heading off to travel either with her family or on my own.

My last days in Xela were fun and strange at the same time. I felt a little sad to be leaving, even for a while, and hated that I now had some sort of deadline that I needed to plan around. I have not had any deadlines since I arrived. It felt weird having to plan my trip, my travels, and be on some sort of schedule again.

Since my return from the coffee plantation on Sunday, I have been busy going around town buying bug spray, sun tan lotion, granola bars, and books; all necessary items for my travels. I have also regretted my decision to bring a rolling duffel instead of buying an actual backpack. The rolling duffel was great in Europe but the sidewalks and streets just aren’t the same here. I may have to invest in a real backpack very soon. I had class three times this week, Monday afternoon, Tuesday afternoon, and Wednesday morning, with the same teacher, Maria Eugenia de Soto as last week. I chose afternoons this week as my stomach has been hurting in the mornings and I also just felt like sleeping later than 7:30am. It was a good decision as I definitely felt more alive and healthy for all of my classes. My teacher commented on how impressed she is with my Spanish after only seven weeks and it felt good. Other people have told me the same thing so I guess I am doing something right here.

On Tuesday morning as I walking to my school I saw not one, but two, people from the coffee plantation. I am already starting to realize how small Guatemala really is as I have been told by numerous Guatemalans previously. The first guy I saw and chatted with was Willy, the volunteer coordinator, who also lives in Xela. We decided to meet for coffee later in the day at the place where I would be able to buy coffee from Santa Anita in order to send or bring back home. Almost immediately after sharing hugs and hand pounds with Willy and continuing my short walk to school, I saw another guy who I shared the pickup with on my way to Santa Anita. I stopped and chatted for a bit and he gave me the business card of a non profit for the disabled where he works in Xela and let me know that they could always use some help. These experiences definitely anchored my belief that I already felt a sense of community in Xela.

Wednesday I had my last class and then spent the afternoon wrapping Christmas presents for all the little kids at the daycare run by my school. Little did I know, that I was wrapping gifts next to another student who turned out to be an expert wrapper. So by the end of the few hours of wrapping shoes, sweaters, jackets, and toys, I knew how to wrap the perfect gift complete with tips and tricks on how to hide the tape and make all the correct folds. Martha Stewart, I’m coming for you.

That night, I went to my teacher’s house for a game of Scrabble. We had talked about playing during class and I was pretty pumped up for my first game of Spanish Scrabble. What could be a better way to practice Spanish and build vocabulary?!? After sharing some information about my recent email exchange with World Jewish Congress with her husband, Quique, and gathering some of his questions he had about his ancestry, the three of us sat down ready to battle. I had my dictionary close by just in case but I hoped I would not have to use it. Well, after staring at my letters of z, rr (yes that is a piece in Spanish scrabble), m, o, a, p, h, on my third turn, I decided I better start to consult the dictionary. As the game progressed, I realized that although I was not a native Spanish speaker, I still understood Scrabble strategy more than my playing partners and my words of seca, vuelo, and haz were putting me in the lead. And with only minor help from my dictionary, I managed to pull away for an easy victory, winning by 30 points. Yes, I, Avi Richman, native English speaker who has only studied Spanish for seven weeks, defeated my Spanish teacher and her husband in my first ever game of Spanish Scrabble. I deserved a cookie, so I went back to my house and ate one. Jajaja, I crack myself up.

Later that night, I shared some goodbyes with Francisco and Elby, the senor and senora de mi casa, gave them some cute kitchen towels from the States that I had been saving for them. Surprisingly, in return, they gave me a Guatemalan wallet and string bracelet that I am wearing now. It was a sweet moment and I really enjoyed my time staying with them. I may end up staying there again but everything is up in the air right now so who knows but I did promise to visit as soon as I return to Xela.

Thursday, I said my final goodbyes to Xela, some people at my school, and my housemates, and left for the bus station knowing that I am definitely returning to Xela, just not sure exactly when.

My First Guatemalan Connection

Written Wednesday, December 7 and updated today.

Another Monday, another crop of new students, another new teacher for me. This marks teacher number three and it led to an interesting development. About midway through my first class, my teacher, Maria Eugenia de Soto, asks me if I have any friends at home who I am able to practice with. I respond that I do but not really sure who speaks Spanish well but that I can practice with my two friends from Guatemala City. Her eyes went big and then she said in these exact words, “Oh you are Avi, I know who you are!” I am immediately taken aback and wonder what the hell is going on. She then begins to explain to me that she knows who my friend, Lorena, is in Guatemala City because her husband is best friends with Lorena’s uncle and they know the Bianchi family well. I had completely forgotten but the Bianchis had given me the name of what turns out to be her husband to call if I ever needed a new place to stay in Xela. So, I had the telephone number of my new teacher! You really need to tell me if you can think of anything that is a stranger coincidence than this. So I know one family in the entire country and it turns out that my new Spanish teacher has heard about me from them and already knows a bit about me! Seriously, this world is tiny!

Today, Wednesday, I was invited over to my teacher’s house for lunch in order to meet her husband and the rest of the family. We had a nice lunch and afterwards I began talking with Quique, her husband, about his family originally being Jewish. In class, I had already talked about Judaism with my teacher and then she began to tell me this bizarre story about her husband’s ancestry. Anyways, as I would talk to Quique about, his grandfather was Jewish and his great aunts and uncles were killed in the Holocaust. Yet, the family never learned about any of this until well after his death when an Israeli investigator started writing letters to his mother about the ancestry of his family. This investigator named Mordechai Arbell was doing research on Caribbean Jews and had traced back his family to the 1700s and then tracked down his mother to learn more information. Quique also showed me all the letters that were exchanged between his mother and the investigator in the early 90s. He also told me a chilling story that the only way his grandfather found out about the deaths of his siblings in the Holocaust was by receiving a letter with “Salvame”, Save Me, written on the back of the stamp. If all of this is confusing you at all, then rest assured that I am also still a tad confused but the story is incredible.

Now, the family is Christian, partially due to the fact that his grandfather never revealed his true identity to anyone. Apparently, this is the case for many people in Guatemala. A lot of people of Jewish origin came here fleeing Germany and then completely renounced their Judaism and converted to Christianity. But I did learn that there are a few Jews left in Xela who never converted and Quique is going to try to set up a meeting with one of them. He said that none of them practice Judaism anymore but still it would be interesting to hear their stories.

Update from today, December 17: Quique also was still interested to learn more about his ancestry so I contacted the World Jewish Congress, who Mordechai Arbell worked for, to see if he was still alive, etc. Today I received an email back from them saying that he was still alive and remembered the family well and would be happy to help. So I am sure there will be more updates to come. All of this is just incredibly fascinating to me.

Moral of the Story: The world is connected in the most bizarre of ways. And the more people you talk to, the more you learn about these connections. Never, ever assume that your history has not crossed the history of another or that your paths will not cross in the future.