The tap´s just fine

So, I´m not sick, very much. Sorry to be so anticlimatic. All you readers, you swarming millions, were probably kinda hoping for a little excitement, maybe a story about bumbling through a visit with a doctor here, getting prescribed birth control instead of cipro or something. Sorry to disapoint. What can I say- guts of steel. I get ´em from my mama. We went to the bar last night to watch the USA v. Guatemala soccer game, which ended in a nil nil tie. Basically a win for Guatemala, as far as we can tell. Guatemala apparently usually loses to teams from tiny island nations where they are still eating limbs off the losing players (I can´t figure out how to pun on team member and dismember- help me out?), so tying the White Devils is pretty sweet.
Actually, there isn´t a lot of USA bashing going on here, unless you count expats. Much less than there was in New Zealand, and we hadn´t even been propping up military dictators or funding contras there. We´ll see tomorrow, though, when there is scheduled a big protest/march/parade of students from the 8 or so Universities in Xela through the streets. And then tonight is supposedly this strange event when the Encapuchados, the gowned and hooded student group, goes through the town at night and throws buckets of black paint on the businesses that earlier refused to pay them. A bit of back story: Mariam and I saw these 5 Ku Klux Klan-looking dudes coming out of the bank over a week ago. They had on the full flowing robes, and big pointy hoods with eye holes, in either white or black. They had some patches or insignias on, but we didn´t get close enough to read them. The shotgun-armed bank security (shotgun-armed security is the way to go around here, and everyone from banks to milk delivery trucks to little garages have a coupla pimply Wackenhut-uniformed teens packing serious heat) seemed to know them, or nod to them or something. When we asked our family about it, they seemed to say they were from the University, and that they would be asking for money. A bit more digging, and we found a more complete story. Apparently, 80 or 100 years ago, there was a big protest led by the med students in Xela against government persecution. Then they were all massacred. A politically active group of students from the University of San Carlos then started a protest group in response, and to avoid being identified and killed, they adopted these hoods and robes. They have been protesting and fundraising ever since, and in the past have done some very constructive, proactive things. They had the support of the general public for a long time, but lately it´s been slipping away. They´ve developed this tradition of extortion, where they ask businesses and people for money, and then vandalise the places that don´t pay, and they´ve supposedly been infiltrated by shady people who use the anonimity for even worse stuff than vandalism. So, the governor vowed that the businesses would not be vandalised this year, and to effect this, the semi-militarized police are going to be out in force tonight to stop the paint-throwing hooded students. Should be a blast.
We are really having an amazing time here. There is no other place, I´m sure, that would allow us to do so many amazing things- study spanish, eat amazing food, visit volcanos, live cheap, go to the beach, etc. We´re loving it. As long as we don´t get tear-gassed tonight.

A few little things

My head is fixing to bust with all the spanish I'm cramming in, so I thought I'd jot down a few of the non-language things I've been noticing but don't have room to hold on to. On the streets, you can get all kinds of tasty treats- corn on a stick, slathered with mayo and spices; tacos; hot dogs (these seem to be quite popular). If you get juice or cola, it comes in a plastic bag, with a straw, and you clutch it around the opening of the baggie. Actually, everything comes in a baggie- fresh fruit cut up into bite size pieces; nuts; popped corn; and all kinds of unidentified little tidbits in unidentified sauces (have no fear, I will identify the unidentified presently (although our host mother keeps us so stuffed morning til night that we don't have much room for trying street food)). All the indigenous Maya women wear these crazy colorful outfits, intricately embroidered in the brightest colors with amazing patterns, and carry wicked heavy-looking stuff in giant baskets on their heads, and they're everywhere. Like, it's not that you only see them up in the mountains, but all over town, too. Probably a third or a half of the women wear these outfits. Dizzying. Along the highways, the tire shops (and there are lots of tire shops, as well as bloquerias- business that sell concrete blocks) all have a tire lying down, with another standing up in its prostrate brother, with white painted letters that say "tire shop" in spanish. I think. You can smoke in the McDonald's, and check your email (no beer, though (we didn't go, but Mariam said I could if they had beer on the menu, so we checked)). Internet costs 4Q/hour (free at the school, where I am now), and there are 7.5Q/dollar. To have all our laundry washed, dried and folded, same day, costs 28Q. 1Q for a slice of watermelon. Mmm, watermelon. And plantains. For the record, plantains are fucking awesome. Apparently, you can't really eat them raw, so they have to be fried in butter.
One last little story. This weekend we went to the coast with our host family, who is amazing if I haven't mentioned it before. The grandpa has this hacienda-type place on the coast, which really just means, down south where it's wicked hot and there are mosquitos (coast and beach mean two different things- you can't see the water from the coast). I played in the pool with Javier for a couple of hours under the sun, which washed all my sunscreen off so I burned the holy hell out of my shoulders. Then, just as the sun was reaching its zenith, all the guys gathered for a soccer rematch. Soccer is like a religion (if you don't speak spanish, you can't tell the difference between a match and a sermon on the radio), so all these guys are playing their hearts out. I swat out, like, a gallon of fluid. Afterwards, they just all go and sit around the pool. Nobody drinks anything. I am dying of thirst, but I had already drank the one little thermos of agua pura that we brought down the day before, for an entire extended family reunion, filled with soccer and other dessicating activities. So I was left with the horrifying decision of whether to live with the stars swimming in front of my eyes from dehydration, or to drink from the tap. I don't know if you've been down here, but it is pounded in from day one not to drink from the tap. It's like a mantra that constantly plays past on that screen in your brain. But I was dying. I filled a glass, smelled it, emptied it. Filled it again. I would have been salivating if I had any saliva left, but I'm well past the point of sweating, or salivating, or carrying out the fluid-dependent functions of my cell organelles. I'm just a big, panting, beet-red blob of thirst. Even so, I hesitate, the glass trembling in my hand, against the power of the anti-tap mantra. There is a microwave next to the sink. I thrust the glass of water into the microwave, and set it for- what should I set it for? A minute, and it will be undrinkable from the heat, but...- twenty seconds, and punch the "incipio" button. With the glass slowly rotating, the exhaust from the microwave vent surprisingly cool, I force myself not to think of all the amoebic yeasty beasties that could easily survive twenty seconds of radiation. Ding! In one motion I swipe the glass out and swallow down the tepid water in one gulp. By no means does it slake my thirst, but at least it keeps me alive. Although I think I can already feel the cholera multiplying in my bowels. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Our New 4 Star Hotel

First off, let me just say, so much for Mariam ever posting anything to the blog. Ok, now I feel better.
We've been here over a week. It's getting easier to do things like go to the bathroom, ask where the bathroom is, and find out what's wrong with the hot water in the bathroom. Neither one of us has done any butt-pissing yet, either, so we might be over the hump. As you may have noticed from my uni-dimensional post, certain daily ablutions have earned more than their share of attention. Which is good. One of the reasons we travel is to shake things up a bit, to rattle the routine and reachieve an appreciation of those things we take for granted. Like ablutions. (I don't really know what that word means, but I like the way it rolls off the tongue. Actually, that's kinda what my life is like lately...).
We've settled in with our host family, which has been wonderful. It is the same family who hosted Andrew and Anne. There are many reminders of what a small world it is, actually. In the hostel we started out in, we met Aaron Bonner-Jackson's sister's boyfriend, Jacob. His name's Jake, my name's Jake. Aaron's from Lexington, I'm from Lexington. His sister worked at the Flick, my sister worked at the Flick. Eh? Then, one of the other students at our language school (Casa Xelaju, same one Andrew and Anne went to), who is a pediatrician, turns out to be from Lexington, KY. Lexington KY, Lexington MA. You smell what I'm stepping in? He taught at UK Med School for, like, ever, and now his daughter is going to be in my class next year. And he's starting a hospital in El Salvador, moving there in a few months, so that next summer Mariam and I can bop down and spend another few months doing awesomeness in Central America. Very exciting stuff.
Anyway, our family is great. Javier, the youngest son, is a source of endless amusement. We have about a gig of his cinematographic attempts from when he got hold of, and got behind, our camera last night. Quite a character. Anyway, I shouldn't burn up any more quetzales at the computer. Let's get Mariam to post next time, whaddya say?

Leaving (twice) pictures

Ready to leave...first try (Day 1)
Ready to leave...second try (Day 2).
The passport office came through, even though I tried out my best "undesirable" look on them.

Take two

Our first try at leaving for Guatemala didn´t work. As we were checking our bags, the friendly Continental staff was inspecting my passport and said it wouldn´t do at all. I put it through the laundry a while ago (it doesn´t say anywhere not to...) and so the backing is coming off a bit, and all the stamps have reproduced themselves on the facing page, kinda like when you would get your 21 yr. old buddy to lick his hand stamp and press it onto the back of your hand so that you would have a little (inverted) smudge that would allow you to drink at the bar. Don´t pretend you didn´t ever do this.
Actually, one attendant told me to just get some glue from the Hudson News stand and glue it back together- it´s not like Immigration is that particular, right? But meanwhile her evil supervisor had gotten wind of the situation and sent us away, off to the Tip O´Neill building to try to get it replaced. In one day. Yeah, right, you say. How are you going to get the world´s biggest bureaucracy to replace a wicked official document that normally takes months in the legalest of circumstances to move that quickly? I don´t know, but they did. By the end of the day, I had a new passport and we were back on track for the next day. When we showed up at the airport, the glue-suggester gave us both big hugs. Gotta love Continental, my new favorite airline. The bar had been set pretty fricking low by Delta, but still.

Now we´re here. People are as friendly as they say. I think. Actually, I have no idea, because only Mariam speaks Spanish, and so all I know is that they smile a lot. Hopefully this will all change when Spanish school starts on Monday, but until then, I am completely dependent on my beautiful bride for all my basic needs. And my complicated ones. Did I mention how beautiful she is?

Everything is colorful here. Houses and buildings are painted every bright, pastel shade you can imagine. It´s a bit dusty, and there´s plenty of rubbish and skinny dogs around. Much more crowded and bustling than I had imagined, especially Xela. I was thinking it would be kind of a rural community in the mountains, but instead it´s the second largest city. We´re still exploring, wide-eyed, and still a bit guarded, so we´re both looking forward to settling in and relaxing. We´ll let you know how that goes.

The watermelon story

There was a Guatemalan woman at Mariam's work, ROCA, who attended regularly scheduled meetings with her fellow expatriates. She would tell Mariam about these meetings, and Mariam couldn't understand why they were always having these "watermelon" meetings. Turns out, it was more like when I thought people were saying "for all intensive purposes," when in reality, they're saying "for all intents and purposes." Try saying "Guatemalan" with a Guatemalan accent, and you get watermelon. In the same vein, there was a kid who thought he had something called "65 roses" because he kept overhearing his parents talking about his cystic fibrosis. Erin had a little article to this effect in her room at the PFT lab. Any of you have misheard phrases or lyrics (my two favorite are "tryin' to keep my teenage driving age" in that blind melon song which apparently is "tryin to keep my jeans dry today" and- this one is uncanny, and may ruin this song for you- Nina Simone crooning "let me keep the pie" instead of "ne me quitte pas") that you want to share?
Ok, that was supposed to start of this blog of our travels with a bang- more of pfft if you ask Mariam, but whatever, she's not typing. Here's the scoop: we're heading to Xela, Guatemala, for 4 months to see if we can learn Spanish and help out with whatever people there need help with. We're leaving in a week. Still in the planning stage, which is exciting, because it involves realizing all the contact lense prescriptions and cavities we're not going to have time to fill, the clothes and other basic necessities that we'll have to go without, and basically all the ways we've crapped the bed. The bed-crapping is palpable, I guess you could say. Which is fun, in its own cute, anxious, malodorous way. Mariam has just promised to write the next post.