the next existence

i'm sitting in the Belize city airport, waiting for the first plane to take us to el Salvador before we arrive in Guatemala. the thirteen of us with assignments requiring Spanish training are sitting or laying down on the wooden benches, reading, listening to music, writing... and smelling delicious. we found the duty free perfume store and found our favorite scents; i reminisced about the various chapters in my life that each scent defined.
prior to all this, we bonded together for a cause: to finish someone's bottle of brandy on the way to the airport... crammed into a white van... with all our luggage on top and underneath us...
i am currently in love with this life.

we spend one scrumptious night in Guatemala city, in what i believe must be the most decadent howard johnson hotel on earth. we cherish every second we have with these massive fluffy beds and these beautiful tile showers- this is something we will not come across frequently in the next two years and we know it. we devour our magnificent complimentary breakfast and sit in the lobby and wait, surrounded again by our luggage. we live out of suitcases- i'm used to seeing these bags all the time now.

once picked up, we are dropped off at our new host family homes, one by one. i can't imagine what it will be like for the 9 volunteers in the bunch that are coming here with no Spanish background whatsoever... i am helping them understand what the driver is trying to tell us, but then they are dropped off with a family of strangers who speak no English...
my family consists of one woman, but the house always has grandchildren running around. my new best friend's name is Andrea; she is 9 years old and she is spectacular. upon my arrival she shoved her coloring book and crayons in my lap and we worked on the picture together as she spoke to me in slow, clear Spanish. after a game of English/Spanish cherades that she invents, i can already tell she will be my greatest Spanish teacher here.

the training center is lovely- hanging plants, neatly manicured greenery, a futbol field, and another wondrous peacecorps library- the great land of book exchange happiness. i had one of the longest interviews with a language teacher today- this guy just couldn't get enough of my broken Spanish. i apologized for slaughtering his language.

after all the heat of Belize, i was actually pretty cold tonight, walking the streets in a drizzle with my host mother and the grandkids. humidity is low and the rain is plentiful.

my brain is exhausted from straining to form sentences and make sense of these short conversations. tonight, it doesn't take long for me to fall asleep.

The Grand (training) Wrap Up

our last day of the site visit in Orange Walk (aka O-dub, aka Sugar City). another great, scorching day. lots of chatting and laughter and excitement about our projects. i seem to have some very proactive counterparts, which can be hard to find here. i feel fortunate to be in a town surrounded by passionate and welcoming people (AND another volunteer). our last night was yet another 7pm-9pm round at the dinner table, eating way too much delicious food and laughing to the point of tears. the language in O-dub is stunning; in one sentence you'll hear English, Spanish, and Creole. brilliant. i aspire to have the ability to do that by the time i leave. my site visit left me.... well, i came into this town gazing out windows, wondering how long it would be before this place sent me home. today i'm realizing i'm going to miss my new friends, as well as focusing on these promising projects that await me here in Orange Walk while I'm off in Guatemala for 5 weeks.
but... Guatemala will most likely be a spectacular and unforgettable experience, and i wouldn't miss it for the world.
i was forgetting what cloud 9 felt like. and it's marvelous. i'm gripping it tightly.
* * * * *

the gang's all back in the city. tonight some girls and i went to the Bliss performing arts center (gorgeous new building right on the water), and saw a Creole play called "Fi Mi Posse." it was hilarious, and that we understood most of the dialogue and jokes felt good. there exists a newfound understanding of what was not so long ago an "unknown world;" it's refreshing, reassuring, exciting. oh, tonight was one of those lovely genuine experiences.

* * * * *

it's official now! we're volunteers. last night we had our swearing in ceremony, fully equipped with great food (most of which i couldn't eat- they do love their meat here), and a steel drum band. we followed the fancy gathering with a rockin' pirate party back at the hotel. i had spent the past few days sifting through about 10 people's cameras to create a massive slideshow (300 pictures or so?), which was of course almost destroyed last minute due to technical difficulties. but everything worked out and we had a great evening, matey. so this is it. we've signed papers confirming our 2 year dedication, which feels both strange and grand all at once.

* * * * *

a friend and i bought our phones today. having a cellphone, bank account, address, special passport, and official i.d really makes a person start to see a place as their home.
we treated ourselves to an afternoon at the casino- that's right, Belize City has a casino which houses the one movie theater in the country. but since movies here cost as much as they do in the states... we played video poker with nickels and were served drinks, lounged at the pool, and enjoyed a day of posing as tourists. and then it started raining. we went over to the park next door in search of inexpensive food and stumbled upon an anti-crime awareness rally. music. a small stage, with its back to the Carib Sea. and a small food tent. apparently, when the rain came, all the attending diplomats left; the man running the food stand was not in high spirits. but we enjoyed our garnaches and the rain.


oh, this life. i can't believe we'll be in Guatemala soon.

From Orange County to Orange Walk

all the trainees that would be stationed up north hopped into the signature peacecorpsbelize white LandCruisers and we began our caravan. one by one, we were greeted by our new families and dropped off at our new homes; i would share a host family with the other trainee stationed in Orange Walk Town.

within less than an hour with our new family, Nikki and i were shucking corn for the tamalitos we would have for supper tonight. while i've never shucked corn, i felt right at home. but such piles of corn! extended family members came and went, taking bags of corn off our hands as we ripped husks off; two of my fingers were stained brown by the time the mountain of corn had dwindled to husks and throw-aways.
tonight our host parents took us on a town tour in the family pick-up. my eyes were burning, and i realized i wasn't blinking. so much to take in- huge elaborate homes next to leaning wooden shelthers; mothers with arms full of children; young couples holding hands; boys hopping off a horse, riding bikes, bouncing on tree branches; lone people talking to no one and looking furious; SO many shops. This place looks huge compared to the villages where we had dropped off the other trainees.
and then i see Nikki, sitting across from me in the back section of the truck cab, and i'm wondering what this young girl from Salt Lake City is thinking.

the house is large, nice, and fully equipped, including american cable. this experience will be nothing like that of the trainees in the villages. we will have our own rooms and share a bathroom.
putting my things in my room, i am bathed in blue. blue walls, blue bedspread, and blue curtains that shed a blue light on everything. the room was glowing blue from its doorway when i first saw it. everything is lovely.

but i lay in my blue bed and suddenly i'm blue. it's 4am. my thoughts are running, my stomach dizzy. i'm sick of being sick and i'm exhausted and overwhelmed by so many changes. i want to scream, pull my hair, pack up and go. i am so far from home. but just having that option makes me feel spoiled, selfish, small. and i think about all the people who are in positions where they want to just call it quits yet don't have that option. don't have anywhere to run off to. nowhere to escape to.
so for now i can stay one more day. i'm hoping i won't be thinking in those terms for too long.
up again at 5:30am and thoughts all over the map. at this point, another half hour of sleep sounds brilliant , but impossible.
i finish HighFidelity; it's one of those books that's hard to put down. Nick Hornby has somehow climbed into my head and figured out a way to put some of my thoughts onto these pages in the form of beautifully witty paragraphs. it'll be hard to part with it-pass it on or put it on one of the peacecorps office library bookshelves.
the bug bites are numerous and more burning and obnoxious than ever. i wonder if these tiny ants that i keep finding bite.
5:45am. 15 minutes until the alarm sounds, and i just want to disappear.

but there's a happy ending. the next day i meet with some amazing new colleagues, and we share ceviche for lunch. all of them are informative and hilarious. my village school is surrounded by green peace and quiet.
and suddenly everything feels right. the peacecorps life has thus far been an emotional rollercoaster. but my new life here is slowly forming, and so far i'm still feeling pretty lucky about it all.

that night was big...

... as if standing on the edge of a cliff, about to look down into the next two years of our life. we would be finding out our site placements the next afternoon: precisely where we live and what our job would be for the duration of our stay in Belize. we celebrated this anticipatory moment at a bar; walls covered with sarcastic placards, stools plastered with bumper stickers. i'm quite sure no one slept much that night.

and now i sit on my small bed, absent-mindedly scratching bug bites and staring at my placement folder. Orange Walk Town. located an hour south of the Mexican border, this is the second largest town in Belize, with 20,000 people. i'm not a fan of big towns, so i'm not initially thrilled. but then i learn about my jobs: i'll be a part-time reading specialist, and a part-time librarian. as a bookworm and advocate for instilling a love of reading in children, i'm ecstatic. and then i see the word "spanish" scratched on the white label on the front of the folder: i'm going to Guatemala for 5 weeks of spanish training. i am one of the lucky few and i am glowing.

initial training in San Ignacio is over. now the group splits up for the first time, for 10 days of technical training with the other trainees in your specific field. some groups will be in rural villages, bathing in the river. the teacher trainers will be at a river-side resort, tanning poolside when classes are over, being hated by the rest of the bunch : )

but we know this luxury is a fluke, something we won't experience again for a long time to come, so we soak it in. we mix drinks and laugh, piled on a plush bed in an air conditioned, pristine room. earlier, we enjoyed the blue blue pool and a slow and beautiful sunset.

in the morning when i step out onto the porch of our room. i usually see 2 or 3 iguanas scatter up a tree or down to the river, due to my arrival. the slew of river-side hammocks are tempting, but the bugs are part of the deal and they have prevented me from enjoying what would be a picture-perfect reading haven. on the walk to school we hear the deep, guttural cries of the howler monkeys. we pass the same two men every day, sitting under a leaning tarp, surrounded by bits and pieces of just about anything. we bid them "maanin" and they tell us that the big lightning storm last night was just for us.

and training is almost over. all that's left is to visit our placement sites to meet our counterparts and host families, and then we swear in as official volunteers. this has been a whirlwind journey, and it's only the beginning.

A Good Day

it's early morning and we're on the Hummingbird Highway. everyone's perched at the windows, cameras in hand, as we curve through this breathtaking scene. even if we weren't plowing past it all on a bus, cameras would never do this view justice. the green of all the trees and bush is intensified as the sun finally reveals itself. the mist on the mountains, thatch-roofed houses, flowing waterways- you can't look away.
how did any of us get here? i can't fathom what i've done to deserve this.

we arrive in Dangriga for our "Garifuna Cultural Experience;" when the drumming, singing, and punta shaking starts i forget how shitty my current meds are making me feel. the room is small and steamy, the sound is immense. i wish i had my tape recorder (for a year i carried around a tape recorder and turned it on when a conversation turned interesting, but i have yet to listen to those tapes). we joined pinky fingers and the women sang in Garifuna; the language flows and mesmerizes me. i quickly fall in love with the Garifuna mantra "i for you, and you for me."
on the way back we stop at the Blue Hole off the highway; the cool and clean water in this shaded swimming hole is delightfully refreshing. i find myself floating again, kicking against the strong current, staring up at the blue sky and the circle of looming trees far overhead.
i can't help but ask again, how did i get here?