Day 8: The Apocalypse...Is Not So Bad

“Nora knows better than most that nothing lasts forever. Life doesn't, love doesn't, hope doesn't, so why would death, hate, or despair? Nothing is permanent. Not even the end of the world.”      - Isaac Marion

It’s the end of my eighth day in Guatemala, and I’m still moving.  What I mean to say is both that I’m still alive and well, and that my first few days have been filled with travel—between cities, between living places, and between states of mind.

After landing in Guatemala, I traveled with all 27 other trainees out of Guatemala City to the much smaller town of Santa Lucia Milpas Altas, where the Peace Corps maintains its Guatemalan headquarters.  The journey was marked by lush greenery, vividly painted buildings, and postcard-worthy mountain scenery.  There were also some more jarring sites: women and scrawny children bouncing around in the beds of pickup trucks, multiple near-collisions, and, at Peace Corps Headquarters, a friendly man standing guard with a battered rifle.

Peace Corps Headquarters itself is something of an Eden.  Within its razorwire-topped walls are soccer fields, single-room houses for Spanish classes, a medical center, a lounge for volunteers, and offices for the various staff members. The entire complex surrounds an inner garden/sanctuary.  It makes for a great lunching spot.

The other volunteers and I spent our first three days in Guatemala within a five-block radius of the Peace Corps Headquarters, living with host families and, in most cases, at least one other volunteer.  I was lucky enough to live with my co-trainee Hannah; we fumbled our way through awkward Spanish conversations and enjoyed strange new cultural experiences together.  For instance, our host family took us to their Seventh Day Adventist church service on our first night in-country.  The small church boasted a flashy sign proclaiming, “Win with Jesus!” and all of the songs (played over a tinny sound system) came from the website www.apocalipsis.com.  Even though the setting was strange to me, I was really moved by the fact that, at the part of the service where Catholics usually perform prayers of the faithful, the Adventists instead gave thanks.  In other words, even though most of these people live without dishwashers, showers, or computers, they’re more inclined to thank God than to ask for things.

Our first three days, spent at Peace Corps Headquarters, were full of basic orientations—to safety and security, to health during service, and to other volunteers.  We underwent Spanish language testing to determine how much we still need to learn (in my case: A LOT), and spent hours and hours discussing the Peace Corps Core Expectations.  Even though none of the activities were particularly taxing, the constant flow of information, from 7:45 am to 5:30 pm every day, left me exhausted.

On our third day, we got our living assignments for the next nine weeks.  Unlike our initial host family pairings, there is only one volunteer per family, and various volunteers live in different towns.  I’m living in the town of Santo Tomas Milpas Altas with the delightful Claudia.  She’s a single woman in her late thirties, which is unusual in Guatemala.  It’s also unusual for volunteers to live with a single person, because so many Guatemalan families live in compound-like structures permitting grandparents, cousins, in-laws, and innumerable pets to cohabit within small areas.  In fact, all the other volunteers in my town are living with enormous families.  But this living with a single lady has its benefits: fewer names to memorize, more opportunities to try my hand at household chores, and, of course, Guatemalan cuisine tailored to my likes and dislikes.  The other volunteers are feeling overwhelmed by beans and rice, while I’m feasting on strawberries, plantains, asparagus, eggplant, carrots, cucumbers, and eggs.

Claudia and I both like to get up early, so we go for long walks together most mornings.  She tells me all about the local farms and churches.  And speaking of churches, Claudia is an evangelist.  She told me that I could go to Catholic Mass with either of her sisters, both of whom live in town, and that my religion doesn’t matter to her so long as I believe in God, but I told her that I’d like to visit her church, to learn about her faith.  My subsequent visit to her iglesia was one of the strangest, hardest, and most extraordinary experiences I’ve had in my life.

The three-hour service began with one hour of raucous singing, populated by frequent “Alleluia!” 's and clapping from the audience.  And this singing wasn’t just from a church choir; this church was hooked up, with a lead singer, backup singers, a guitar, bass, drums, keyboard, sax, and two trumpets.  After the singing ended, a pastor from Guatemala City took the stage, and began preaching passionately to the excitable crowd.  Toward the end of his sermon, he invited the laypeople to come forward (I think for salvation, although my limited Spanish skills made it hard to understand).  One by one, people walked to the front of the church, dropped to the ground, and began sobbing.  This continued for some 15 minutes, until the pastor stepped down and patted them on the back.  Then the singing recommenced (now punctuated by intermittent groaning), and continued until the end of service.  It was an eye-opening experience, to say the least.

My days are now spent attending intensive Spanish classes with other volunteers at my language level, commuting to Peace Corps Headquarters by “chicken bus” to undergo further health and safety orientations, and running up and down mountains with other volunteers and their host brothers/sisters.  It’s a hectic schedule, but it keeps me from getting too emotional about the culture shock.

Apologies for this ridiculously long post.  I’m going to make it a little longer, and leave you with 10 Things I Have Learned:

1. Chris Matthews was a Peace Corps Volunteer.  That means he and I are meant to be best friends…right?
2. Guatemalan toilets are among the lowest of their species.  More specifically, they cannot tolerate any toilet paper (every Guatemalan bathroom contains a small trash bin, emptied daily, for used toilet paper).  Also, they don’t flush with the push of a button; instead, they require manual flushing with a bucket of water, relying on gravity to sweep the waste down the pipes.
3. Similar to toilets, most Guatemalan showers are…lacking.  Many homes don’t have showers, and many others, like Claudia’s, have showers that only produce cold water (we’re talking frigid).  Instead of taking ice showers, most Guatemalans choose to take bucket baths.  To try this at home (which I highly recommend), fill a 3-gallon bucket with cold water.  Add one pot of boiling water and mix well.  While squatting in your shower, alternately drizzle water over yourself and lather up with soap.  Then, marvel at how little water you actually need to bathe.
4. In Guatemala, an expensive avocado costs less than $0.50.
5. Toast is not a thing here.  Actually, it is a thing, but it’s sold pretoasted, and has the consistency of packaged croutons.
6. Eighty percent of the cocaine arriving in the U.S. passes through Guatemala.
7. If you go for a walk or for a coffee with a man who is not your dad or your brother, you two are dating, and will probably get married.
8. In Guatemala, it’s considered very rude to say “No thanks” when offered more food; this is because it’s assumed that you don’t like the cooking.  You always have to offer an excuse as to why you don’t want more: “Thank you, but I am very full.  Your food is so rich and delicious.”
9. Watching Miss Congeniality in Spanish with your host mom after a long day is a surprisingly great way to unwind.
10. Cooking oil and oil used as fuel do not translate to the same word in Spanish.  If you tell your host mom that you think many of the problems in the Middle East stem from its abundance of aceite, she will be very confused as to why you think Iraqis are swimming in canola oil.