this "chiste" of a weekend

while most of the volunteers in our group thought our plan to visit Pacaya (an active volcano) and Monte Rico (a black sand beach) in one weekend was a bit too much, three friends and i decided to go for it.

it took us four buses to get to our first destination: Pacaya. the buses in Guatemala are something to behold. truly. the first thing you notice is the decor. neon decals, a plastered nickname on one of the windshields, fringe, some religious item (be it quote or chipped, plastic saint), and a hard working ayundante hanging out the open door calling out this monstrosity's destination. then there's the music, be it a synthesizer solo, YMCA, a Spanish version of "My Heart Will Go On," Bob Marley, one of the current top 5 radio hits (more than once), and always Shakira. but the most fascinating aspect of the Guatemalan bus is the amount of people that are able to cram into one of these beasts. these buses typically have slightly longer seats, which means three people are squinged together on each side, and one person is standing in the 10-inch-wide aisle. and somehow... SOMEHOW... when you notice that regardless of the winding road, no one is shifting in this sardine can, the ayudante manages to squeeze past everyone, sometimes practically crawling over seats, to collect bus fares. the ceiling racks running along either side of the buses are overflowing with bags from the mercados. occasionally you'll see a bird or chicken in someone's lap. occasionally you will have to hold someone's small child while a family rearranges itself because a passenger is getting off. there are always people sleeping, hunched over onto the seat in front of them, or dozing off near your shoulder. during this trip, one friend got a corn cob to the head from a distracted baby held in the aisle beside him. during this trip, another friend stood in the aisle balancing his swollen backpack on one shoulder while hanging on to the rack with his free hand.

but four buses later, we're standing at the foot of this active volcano and the sun is slowly setting. the Guatemala volunteer who works on the volcano will guide us on our trek (peacecorps can be a bit overprotective sometimes). we hike up with a weekend's worth of stuff upon our backs (the guys also carrying heavy tent equipment). it's a hefty incline, the rain is occasionally dripping, i'm periodically peeling off layers, the darkness comes. i'm using a crank flashlight that won't stay strong unless i'm cranking it (therefore we have a constant whirrr sound at the back of our human caravan). on the last leg of this 2 hour hike, we hit gravel that shifts and tumbles beneath our feet. before we can see anything, we feel the heat from the lava as the wind picks up. we can hear the masses of tourists. we reach the top and it's like nothing i've ever seen. it's as if the earth is just being born or is on its last leg. the contrast of the high-altitude frigid wind and the intensely hot lava is fitting. we're in complete darkness now, except for the patches of glowing orange lava. we lay a blanket out at the edge of one patch and watch it slowly flow, turning a bush to flames as the orange brushes past. we enjoy a picnic of beans, tortillas, and hershey kisses on the volcano as the tourists take their last pictures and start their descent. we are finally left alone on our lava-side blanket, clouds rolling in, and the 5 of us are surrounded by nothing but blackness, an eerie mist, a beautiful silence, and a garden of lava. we finally stumble back down in the misty blackness, realizing at the bottom that we now have a 3 mile stumble through the town below to get to this volunteer's house (where we'll be sleeping on the cement floor this evening). i call it a stumble because the first part of this journey is down a road that is a piles of rocks. literally. once in town we have to brave it through a gang of barking angry dogs, but we manage. it's 1am when we arrive at the house, i realize i did a number on my left ankle, and we crash.
at 5am we're up, packing in the dark, my ankle screaming at me, and ready to catch yet another bus. we're headed to Esquintla, where we'll be quickly escorted onto a bus for Taxisco. then we're on bus #3 by sunrise, well on our way to the lanchas (boats) that will take us to our final destination.

Monte Rico.
after walking through town to the beach, we hike along the shoreline. i'm overjoyed to see my Pacific Ocean again. we find a good spot to relax and do just that. hanging in hammocks, eating, drinking flavored mojitos, reading, dozing, and occasionally alternating between sand and ocean. it's hot. "Belize" hot. the sky's bluer than blue and it's a beautiful day.
but then we come to find out that this weekend Gallo (the big Guatemalan beer company) is having a conference and has basically reserved every reasonably priced room on the beach for their hordes of drunken employees. ugh. luckily, the bartender at our hang-out spot invites us to stay on their premises, free of charge. he shows us where we can set up our tent- a patch of black sand in their outdoor patio area, beside a lounge of pillows and rugs. amazingly ridiculous. lucky perfection.
after setting up, we all take a long moonlit walk down the beach and find a secluded pool in what appears to be an abandoned, off-season resort. i find myself floating in a saltwater infinity pool with an ocean view, a palm tree centerpiece, the moon and clouds overhead, away from the noise of the crowds. spectacular.
walking back to our "hotel," we pass the Gallo bash, the male drunken masses cheering on bikini-clad dancers. but back at "home" next door, we find jazz music.
i wake at sunrise for a session of yoga at the edge of the Pacific. we swing in hammocks while waiting for our omelet breakfasts.
bus after bus after bus... we arrive back in Antigua.
there's a marching band competition at the center, and we excitedly arrive in time to cheer on our little town of Santa Lucia. then it's time for shared appreciation of this fantastical weekend over a double hookah session and amazing falafel.

the quiet weekdays

i'm currently reading "A Prayer For Owen Meany," by John Irving. this is my 7th book i've read since arriving here. i have discovered, not surprisingly, that most PeaceCorps Volunteers are book lovers, or at least become read-a-holics once they're here. we have a couple bookshelves in the PeaceCorps Belize office, fat with wonderous books available for one of my favorite parts of this place: our book exchange. take one, leave one, chat about them, read every one that even slightly entices you. the selection is full of variety- modern fiction and nonfiction, crap romance novels, classics, guide books, and often a few of those "oh! i always wanted to read this!" books. this is not unique to Belize- there is a slightly smaller collection in the PeaceCorps Guatemala lounge, but it's there and we smile when we see it. the whole process of sifting through them, getting recommendations, having waiting lists for the "great ones," passing on your own.... i love it.

i slept in this morning- the rain was so loud i missed my usual 5:30am alarm. but it was nice to sip my coffee slowly and get to the compound right before class. it rains a lot here, and i wear a big cozy fleece on a daily basis (the Director in Belize let me borrow it, as no one comes to Belize expecting to need a fleece).
went to Antigua this afternoon- convinced our language trainer to come to our hookah spot (Gaia) with us. so, our afternoon Spanish session involved apple tobacco and translating Bob Marley's "three little birds." brilliant. after "class," we met some friends in the park and headed back to Dona Luisa's for cafe and raspberry pie. we sat, read, journaled, and enjoyed the peace and coffee in the middle of the open-air courtyard.

back at Gaia once again, i was able to enjoy a silent epiphany while embraced by pillows and wisps of mango smoke:
i have decided that my current thoughts on the definition of "success" involve a life consisting of fairly consistent moments of awe. not only the frequency of these moments, but also how they are cherished, held onto, appreciated. these thoughts are derived from all of the moments of wonder that i've had here thus far.
as a group, we discussed the concept of different realities- something you often pontificate while living in a third world country. i used to think in terms of varying realities, but now i've come to see it more as varying perspectives in this one reality, on this one planet. i could be in the States right now, working a 9-5, doing "what one does" there, living the "typical" post-college American Dream. that wouldn't be an alternate reality, but definitely a different way to experience reality. which is deinitely NOT to say that my current chapter in life doesn't often feel unreal, because it quite often does.

the lights went out tonight at the end of supper. while i had been eating my meal of beans, eggs, and tortillas, the kids sat upon the rust and mustard-colored tiles, tossing Belizean coins i had given them into a small ceramic pitcher. the Senora went to find candles as i cleared my plate and mug in the darkness.

ahhhh, Antigua

Indulgence sweet indulgence. I can't say that word enough when it comes to describing our recent 24 hour rant in Antigua. Insanely perfect hookahbar experience, tucked away in a hidden restaurant just past the grand yellow arch. We spoke of striving to be as fluid and adaptable as water while we sucked in mango tobacco and melted into a sea of pillows propped against magnificently painted walls, sipping tea and snacking on hummus while absorbing the music. Shoes off, hearts swelling, minds stimulated.
For dinner, we drank Chilean and Argentinean wine with intensely rich Italian food, followed by amazing conversation on our picturesque hostel terrace. To switch it up, we headed to a local bar, and it was definitely a lively time at the "mono loco." A friend had purchased a hookah in town, so we found ourselves back at the hostel for more mellow hookah times and genuine chatter on the terrace, lit-up cathedral in view....

My god, we stumbled upon incomparable experience after unforgetable experience yesterday. This world is so vast... the possibilities are endless.

* * *
In the past three months I cannot count how many times I have both thought of home and how my life would be, and also of how completely lucky I am to have this opportunity. Some days it can feel like a curse, but more often it feels like an honor.
After a weekend like this one, it's hard to not feel like this life you'd thought you had "chosen" actually hopped up into your lap and you would've been crazy to shoo it away. There are so few people who have the opportunity to experience this caliber of a new perspective. On the bus ride back to Santa Lucia today, curving up the green hills, I thought about my current life: I'm attending Spanish language training in Guatemala before returning to my home in Belize, working with the PeaceCorps.
After three months, this fact still shocks me.
It is moments like this when I feel like I'm supposed to be here. It's not a matter of a "different life" I've chosen; THIS IS MY LIFE. This is a brand new thought for me and it feels fantastic. I suddenly feel very different and very at peace.

living la vida dulce

So apparently Santa Lucia has this grand rooster choir that has chosen 4:30am to be their morning rehearsal time... and it goes on for hours. I made the best of it by being the first one to the training center at 6:30am for some peace and quiet in the lounge. It's dark and cold when I walk to school, but my carpet yoga amongst the empty couches wakes me up.
I am inundated with Spanish more than I ever imagined, and while I know it's good for me, that doesn't make it any less draining. We have Spanish class all morning (and English is not allowed in our classroom), we head home for lunch and chat with the host family in Spanish (they don't speak any English), then it's back to the center for more Spanish class in the afternoon. During breaks we walk down the street to one of the two nearby panaderias for some pan dulce. After class we hide at the training center, avoiding more Spanish by playing knockout on the basketball court. We wander through town, catching various marching (they're actually dancing) band practices and stop to drink a Gallo under a thatch roofed patio. Eventually, we do have to head home, and it's more Spanish all night. But it's good.... we're learning.
Last night I walked the grandchildren home with my host mom. I saw the most spectacular light show- insansely low, rapid, and frequent flashes of lighting. It was nothing short of a finale on fourth of July and I was entranced. The family didn't seem impressed, and I couldn't express in Spanish how beautiful I found it to be. I just kept saying "We don't have lightening like that in the states..." I also noticed how clear the sky was, freckled with sparkling white stars. The 6 year old holding my hand as we crossed the street said to me (in Spanish) "You can't count the stars.... They're infinite." I caught my breath and was so thankful that I understood what he had told me.
* * * *

It's Sunday, but don't ask me the date. I've been on a trip to a land I call Indulgence. We escaped our little town of Santa Lucia last night- three of us went to Antigua. We found a hostel that set up back $50 quetzales a night, which is something around $8 U.S. Found the spot, The Rainbow Room, that served us amazing coffee the afternoon before (our spectacular Spanish teacher took his four students to Antigua for class instead of sitting in that little room.... que bueno!). We sat in a corner and journaled and read, sipping coffee and sharing a slice of raspberry pie. We meandered through the rocky streets of Antigua and found ourselves at Dona Luisas; I enjoyed a spectacular veggie burger and multiple-hour conversation about nature vs nurture while watching the lightning continually flash above the open air patio. Returned to The Rainbow Room for a little local live music while the rain poured and our table was adorned with various bottles and glasses. I had a coke with a Cuban rum that apparently you can't get in the states.... it was amazing. Crashed for the night, up at 6am the next morning to stumble upon the only cafe that opens before 7am and just happens to serve more delicious coffee and the best cinnamon roll I've ever enjoyed. Hopped on a bus headed back to where school awaited us.

Needless to say, we're going back to Antigua for the rest of the weekend.