Como un Chapín

Are you SURE that your family is not Latino? HAHA. Look at me, brother. I am definitely not Latino. Yet, just two days while I was at the beach, that is the exact question that a Guatemalan asked me after a few minutes of chatting with him. The first two questions were, I kid you not…

Guatemalan Man: Where are you from in Guatemala?

Me: I am not from Guatemala. I am from Florida (said with an exceptionally beautiful Spanish accent). My family lives there now.

Guatemalan: Oh, is your family from Guatemala?

Me: No, definitely not. Mainly from Eastern Europe.

After finally declaring that I was not Latino in any way, he looked at me curiously, and declared that I sounded exactly like a Chapín, como un Chapín, and my accent was great. A Chapín is the local word for a Guatemalan, basically what they call themselves here. I would love to tell you the significance of the word chapín but the 50 or so Guatemalans that I have asked do not even know. And this chapín thought that I was a chapín. Qué Increíble! After another five minutes or so of talking, I was pretty sure that he no longer thought of me as a fluent Spanish speaker but I will definitely take that compliment anytime.

The last week here has been great for my Spanish and I definitely feel that I am taking it to a new level. Actually today has been a no English day for me. I feel that it will be the first of many self-imposed days where I am not allowed to speak English. I do have to admit that I talked to my Mom on the phone today in English and answered a question for a nice non-Spanish speaking lady in my school but other than that I have not spoken one word of English. And I have talked a lot.

On Friday morning, the day before I was set to leave for a weekend on the beach, I lazily walked to the central park in my sweatpants and tshirt that I slept in the night before and bought a newspaper. I then lazily walked back to my house, reading it as I walked. On my walk back, I finally realized that I was getting somewhere with my Spanish and it felt really good. There is something about buying a newspaper while wearing my scrubby clothes that made me feel at home in Guatemala. I felt like I now sort of belonged here among all the native speakers. It was a fabulous feeling, one that I will try to hold on to for a while.

So I mentioned the beach. I went to Monterrico Beach this past weekend with Matte, my awesome Australian housemate. The beach is said to be one of the most beautiful, if not the most, in Guatemala, but it still pales in comparison to most every beach in Florida. Guatemala is not known for its beaches. Still it was incredibly relaxing and I enjoyed it immensely. Monterrico has become quite famous as it is a nature reserve and on its beach, thousands of turtles lay their eggs during the months between June-September. For a while, I have wanted to go visit because there is a famous, or infamous, turtle race that is held every weekend. The turtle race, put on by the local turtle nursery that is helping in the effort to save sea turtles by cultivating the eggs and then releasing them, basically matches up on the recently hatched turtles against each other as they make their way to the sea. For a small donation of 10Q, equivalent to $1.35, you can “adopt” a turtle, and if your turtle wins the race to the sea, you win a free dinner. It is a cheap, fundraising effort but still I adopted my turtle, who I named Tito, and was ready to win the entire thing. When I said recently hatched turtles before, what that means is that the turtle were hatched anywhere between 3-12 hours before their release. They were the tiniest, cutest little things I have ever seen. Their eyes were not even open yet! As I held Tito to prepare to release him to the unforgiving ocean (only about 6-8 percent of baby turtles survive in the sea, meaning that of the 85 released on Saturday night, only 5 will survive to adulthood), I saw the look of a determined champion in his/her eyes. He was ready to go as he was kicking his legs/flippers continuously. I tried to tell Tito to rest until the start of the race but he was not listening. So as I waited for all the other adopters to pick their turtles, Tito just kicked relentlessly. As you can guess, when the race started Tito was spent, and even though I was cheering loudly for him, he came in close to last place. Yet, seeing the 85 tiny turtles struggle to reach the ocean brought great joy to my life. It was watching nature at its finest. One day, the surviving turtles will come back to that exact beach to hatch their own eggs. Incredible.

The rest of the weekend at the beach was spent tanning, eating, and reading. I also took a canoe tour of the mangrove reserve at 5:30am in the morning, getting a chance to see the sunrise and the many birds flying around chirping as they set off on a new day. You would think that it would be difficult for me to wake up at 5:30am, and it is, but when you were barely asleep the night before, not as difficult. And I wish that I was barely asleep for the reason of a girl or a great night of partying, but it was actually because I could not sleep due to the noise of other people partying while I was trying to go to bed in preparation for the early morning wake up. Besides the sleep, the weekend out of Antigua was great for my spirit and I am now determined to continue my days of no English and forge ahead to fluency, como un Chapín.

A Tragic Death of a Friend

Just this very moment, as I was posting my last entry, I learned of the tragic death of Dave Burnett, an Australian friend of mine. We met in Israel this past winter break, worked together on some Jewish student union stuff, and I have nothing but great things to say about him. May he rest in peace. The world will surely miss him. For more info, please go to this article http://ajn.com.au/news/news.asp?pgID=4819

Chicas, Chicas, and More Chicas

They come in all shapes and sizes, speak many different languages and never fail to entertain and intrigue me. And although I have more important things to think about in life, girls are impossible to avoid. In Guatemala, I have been able to classify the girls into four groups. There are the local girls, the local girls who are especially attracted to gringos, the crunchy gringa girls (for a definition of crunchy look here http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=crunchy), the party girls, and then the really interesting girls.

Thursday night, I hung out with some party girls from Kentucky. The girls had ridiculously strong Southern accents which made it especially funny when they tried to speak in Spanish and that did not happen too often. Okay, it hardly happened ever. One of the girls had visited Guatemala four times prior and neither of the others was making her first trip here, but yet they entirely lacked any capacity for the language. It made me feel sad for them, but at the same time, they said they loved Antigua and Guatemala and were thoroughly enjoying themselves. Who is to judge? Anyways, the girls were highly entertaining and I may find myself hanging around them again and trying to figure out how to get Kentucky Derby tickets.

Friday was the day when the two sisters were supposed to arrive at my house. You know, the two really hot sisters from Sweden who spoke English perfectly, who were intelligent and kind, athletic and down to earth, and who really liked Jewish boys from Florida and Australians. At least this was the picture that Matte (pronounced Mattey) and I had painted in our heads and discussed with Maritsa. Well, the sisters did arrive on Friday, but our painting could not have been more off target. It turned out that the sisters were from the States, born before the year 1955, not so attractive, and a bit strange. My perfect scenario was ruined! As soon as I arrived home from class to hear of the terrible news, Maritsa greeted me with a laugh that I will always remember. She also knew that my painting was in pieces and I just joined her in laughter. You cannot win them all! Nonetheless, the sisters are really nice and friendly so that must count for something.

Friday night, Matte and I were invited to be wingmen for another friend of ours as he went out with this one Guatemalan chick that he had met previously and her two friends. He assured us that his chick was probably the ugliest of the bunch and she wasn’t too bad. Honestly, I didn’t care too much but still I was looking forward to the prospect of going out with some genuine Guatemalan chicas for a night of fun and hoping that they were semi-attractive. Well it turns out, that my friend was not lying when he said that his chick was the least attractive of the bunch. Unfortunately, the other two girls were only barely more attractive. Anyways, the night was a lot of fun, almost entirely in Spanish, and the girls were really friendly. As the night went on, Matte and I kept trying to leave but our friend kept begging us to stay and keep him company while he tried to win over his trophy girl. The night became strange when we entered an after-party (very common in Antigua as all the bars close at 1am) and the two girls who we were entertaining became more aggressive. They kept on inviting us to go out with them again in Guatemala City and really wanted to stay close to our sides. Matte and I just glanced at each other from time to time and spoke in really fast English, knowing that they could not understand, just waiting for the right opportunity to leave. We did make it out of the evening without having to make out with an ugly Guatemalan chick and I am happy to report that the girls have called us twice since that night. I have yet to return their call.

Antigua, Guatemala

Wow. Antigua Guatemala. It is absolutely beautiful here. The city is like none other in Guatemala that I have seen thus far and I have heard that it does, in fact, stand alone. The cobblestone streets, colorful houses and buildings, public squares, and greenery, makes you feel as if you could be walking in a city from centuries ago. And in fact, Antigua used to be the capital of the kingdom of Guatemala before a flood forced Spain to move its capital to Guatemala City, where it stands today. Its name Antigua Guatemala means Old Guatemala, as in old Guatemala City. The city is a perfect example of a Spanish colonial town and sits at the base of the monstrous volcano Agua. For all these reasons, flocks of people from all over the world visit and make their homes in Antigua.

So how did I end up here? Last Saturday, I contemplated what my next move would be in Guatemala. Where would I go next? Did I want to travel for a bit, go back to Xela, visit Antigua, or do something else? After reading the morning newspaper and seeing that the low temperature for Xela was -6 Celsius, I almost immediately ruled out Xela until warmer temperatures prevailed. Also after spending my first day back in Guatemala with the Bianchis, I realized that I needed a lot more Spanish so decided that I needed to take classes again soon. Ultimately, I really wanted to see Antigua anyways and its reputation for Spanish schools and beauty is incredible so I thought “what the hell” I will try it for a week. I looked on the internet at some reviews of language schools and chose the one that received the best reviews and the price was pretty good as well.

I have to say that I am loving Antigua right now but there have been some difficulties at the beginning. I arrived at my Spanish school on Sunday right before it closed for the day (forgive me, I had a late lunch with the Bianchi family with whom I drove to Antigua because Lorena was here for a wedding on Saturday night….did I mention yet that I love them?!?) and was told that they only had one house left and that I would have to take classes from noon-4pm. The class time wasn’t ideal and I felt a little rushed by the school but I didn’t really have many other options at this point. And who was to blame for that? Yeah, me. I rolled my bag to the house, met the family (mother and two daughters ages 11 and 13), and the Swiss student who was also living there and was shown my room. The family and the Swiss student were really friendly, and although I was not overly impressed by either the house or my little room, I felt pretty good. Soon after, one of the girls organized a game of chutes and ladders in which I took last place by a mile. I think I ended up on square 53 (out of a possible 125) when second place finished. A bit later, I called up a fellow traveler who was living in Antigua that I met while in Rio Dulce and she invited me over to her house for a get together. A whole bunch of Swiss and Germans and a couple of Americans. It was great just to sit, relax, and chat with some other people instead of being alone in my first night in a new city. Everything was going great. I went to go to sleep, pulled back the covers, and my facial expression turned downward. The sheets had not been washed. I knew this because there were little hairs and pieces of dead skin amongst other pieces of uncleanliness. After noticing the bed, I started to take a closer look at the room only to realize that what I though was my cute, tiny room only a few hours earlier was really a very dirty, tiny room. I wasn’t very anxious to jump into bed at this point, given the fact I had finally healed from all my previous bug bites, but I did not have much choice. I did my best to clean up the sheets, put on my sweatpants, sweatshirt and socks, and hoped to be relatively clean when I woke up.

The next day, which was also my first day of class at this particular Spanish school, I let the administrator know about my situation and she said that I could go home, gather my bags, and switch houses that instant, or wait until the end of the week. What an interesting situation! Should I just man up and stick it out the rest of the week? After all, the family was lovely, the Swiss guy was pretty cool, and it was a known fact. Or should I switch to the unknown situation and just hope that it was the right choice. Well, as I have been trying to do more and more lately, I took the riskier decision. As I started walking back to my house, I tried to come up with what I would tell my host mother and decided that I would tell her I was switching to a hostel because I just felt it was better for me. (As I write this, I can come up with much better excuses. I am leaving Antigua. I met some good friends last night and am going to stay at their house. My friend is sick in Guatemala City and I need to go back. Etc, etc.).  Thankfully, no one was home, so I quietly packed my bags and left a note on the kitchen table saying that I would call should I decide to live with a family once more. I walked back to the school, praying not to see my host mother on my way there, and then set off to meet my new family. About halfway to the new location, a car rolls up with my host mother, to take me the rest of the way. None of my other host families had cars. Is the house going to be huge? This is my mindset now by the way. If someone has a car, they must have a lot of money. With hopes of an amazing house, I pulled up to the outside of a house with an amazing passageway leading into it. Walking into the passageway, I saw a doorpost with the word villa posted straight ahead. BUT at the last moment we took a left into the last doorway that led to a small but very cozy house.

My situation in Antigua right now is great. I love it. As soon as I walked into the house the first time, I felt that it was right. Maritsa, my host mother, let me know that her house was my house and that I could use the kitchen whenever I wanted. I was also told that the house I would be living in was just a rented property and that she lived in a separate house. Interesting. Anyways, as it turns out the situation is great. Maritsa and her daughter, Rebecca usually come to the house very early in the morning, before I wake up, and stay until around 8 at night. Up until Thursday, it was just me after that. Now there are two of us in total with two more coming tomorrow. Two new girls, sisters, are coming tomorrow. I am keeping my fingers crossed. So at night I watch television, do some Spanish homework, and read. Monday and Tuesday nights were a bit lonely but I am learning how to cope with being by myself so it was good for me. Wednesday night, I went out to a bar with this guy from the Buena Vista Social Club (famous Cuban music group) was playing with some of the people that I met on Sunday night. Good times and I met some more people who I then went out with on Thursday. On Thursday, a new student arrived at the house and I was nervous that my great situation would no longer be. But it turned out to only get better. Matte is Australian, lives in New York currently, has traveled the world, works in the restaurant business as a consultant, and turns out to be 36 years old even though he looks pretty young. Anyways, he is such a cool guy, very friendly, and I know we are going to get along famously. Is the word famously even used in this way anymore?  

I cannot believe I forgot to mention this but what I like most about being in Antigua right now is Maritsa’s cooking. It is freaking amazing! I have had the best food I have eaten in Guatemala over the past four days. Everything is spiced perfectly, she loves to cook, and there is always more than enough food. Not to get too into personal details with Maritsa but they say never to trust a skinny chef and that holds true with her. Haha. Anyways, I am definitely staying in Antigua another week to continue eating her food. It is that good!

Also my Spanish teacher is great. Gustavo is thirty years old and a real cool guy. We connect well and he has been shaping up my grammar this week. He will also be my teacher next week.

In conclusion, Antigua is beautiful. I am enjoying it all. Spanish is getting better. I am a lot less frustrated than I used to be with the language. You should all come visit this place. Peace.

Hoping for a Miracle

For all of you who were worried, I made it to Guatemala safely, flew through customs, and arrived at the casa of the Bianchis. I actually felt really good leaving the airplane and excited to begin living in Spanish once again. Currently, I am set to watch the Jaguars take on the Patriots and am super nervous. Also feeling very sentimental that I am not able to watch the game with any other fans and am just watching by myself in the house and the broadcast is in Spanish…boo And I have already warned the people at the house that I can get quite loud during the games and to just let me know if I need to settle down. They seem to understand. I am just praying that we play well tonight and I think I will go run through the streets if we win. How am I feeling right now is summed up by the following away messages from my friends:

BigPun137: I would give my first born daughter for the Jags to win tonight…DUUUUVAAL

GatorKevin: Let’s Go Jags…..please God.

ds311uf: GO JAGUARS..”Jacksonville, do you believe in miracles?”

I know that there are more important things to worry about in the world than a football game, hunger, poverty, crime, racism…..BUT all of those things can wait until 11pm tonight after I witness my miracle! Go Jaguars….DUUUVAALL!!! It’s game time, baby.