So my family and I never made it to Tikal. Reasons? Let’s start with the A’s.
1. Tia Antonieta.
2. Tio Alvaro’s sister in law
Now the B’s.
1. Baby Shower
C’s.
1. Tia Che crying because we were leaving soon.
You get the idea…
The ruins will have to wait for now. In the end, the choices we made were good ones. Visiting Guatemala—at least for my parents—has never been about Adrenalina Tours and weekend special! Quetzaltrekkers ofertas. My father has 7 siblings and my mother has 6. That should also give you an idea of the amount of cousins and aunts and uncles and kids and babies and then the GIFTS for everyone, let alone the FOOD consumed at each gathering. Not to get too technical, but the ruins have been there for centuries and are probably not going anywhere soon. (That’s me rationalizing by the way).
At the end of their visit, my Dad dropped me off in Xela (yes, again) and the dreary, overcast weather did not exactly help my heavy heart (yes, again). He helped me lug my suitcases into my new apartment, the luggage full of fresh American (mostly food) products my mother brought for me. The wide wooden desk against the wall in my room stared at me, as if declaring, Well—this is what you came for, isn’t it? I gulped and prayed and wondered about the whereabouts of the chocolate supply my mom had packed…and eventually unpacked---my laptop second to the chocolate.
And that’s what I’ve been doing ever since. Mostly. Sort of. I joined a running (okay, walking uphill) group from the school and we hike up the Baul on most mornings and then I head back home and start my day. I try to write or read or alphabetize my bottles of lotions, vitamins, and toiletries for a few hours in the morning. Then I make lunch and a bottomless cup of instant coffee. Having a “real kitchen” is the best! Or at least that’s what I thought until I realized that OH—there is no Trader Joe’s here!! OH………that’s like a kitchen having a bad hair day, every day. But then I discovered that outdoor markets here are not just places to walk through with your Spanish teacher, but that they are functional. I can’t express how much I love, love, love buying organic produce and chopping it up and cooking it and eating it (and I am not being sarcastic). This won’t come as a shock to many of my friends, but I have already hosted a couple of dinner parties and intend to host more. I also organized a cooking class. The chef? My old host mother, Blanca. She is going to teach us how to cook some traditional dishes and it’s a sweet side job for her. And, it’s in Spanish.
Other than that, I am continuing to take in the hustle and bustle of life in Quetzaltenango, getting to know the others in the cozy hostel, and attending weekend field trips and then conferences (some topics include ‘Midwives in Guatemala’ and ‘The underground guerilla radio in the Civil War’) at PLQ and the Cultural Center just down the street. Most nights, if I go to bed thinking “Oh, I gotta write about that…” then it’s a good day by my standards. Example: I went to buy queso fresco at the carniceria of all places (meat shop, so…basically red fleshy animal meat on the counter, no refrigeration) and when the butcher handed me two quetzales/coins in change, they splattered in this maroon liver juice and polka dotted me right then and there, which made me throw a fit and whine until he gave me a rag, which was difficult for him to do quickly because he –as well as others in line—would not stop laughing at me. A fine moment.
I miss you all and hope you are living the lives you imagined.
Love,
Jenn
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