B and Hayley made the most of our second day in the park. Walking down from Temple IV after sunrise, we past through the vacant Gran Plaza to find a flock of giant irridescent pheasants foraging the courtyard. We stopped back at the hotel for a traditional Guatemalan breakfast then headed back into the park. Luckily, B knows how to read maps and brought her Guatemala travel guide along. We spent the entire morning hitting all of the monuments we hadn´t yet seen, the most impressive of which was Temple V.
Although Temple V is very close to the rest of the ruins, it was sparsely populated by visitors. We soon learned that the reason for this was that ascending this temple involved a precarious climb up wooden ladder stairs at about an 80 degree angle. B´s intrepid spirit wasconvincing enough to give the climb a try. I´ll admit, it was scary going up, and, well, paralyzingly terrifying coming down, but worth it all the same. The view from the top was far and away the greatest view in the park. We have pictures of the view--and the ladder--to verify our tale.
The only shuttle back to Flores left the hotel at 2pm with B and me on board. We observed that giant hogs roam freely in the small towns and along the roads connecting them. We witnessed one special pig shimmy under a chicken wire fence. Once in Flores, we had a few hour before the flight, which we spent in town on the isle of Flores. To call Flores picturesque would be an understatement, and it was as quaint and tranquil as a watercolor. We drank licuados on a dock and strolled around a bit before heading back to the airport.
Coming back to Guatemala City was a little disappointing after the amazing weekend we had had, but we made the best of it. Sunday morning, we went to the Parque Central in Zona 1. We visited the national cathedral, snaked through the Mayan market on the central square and ate freshly made churros (and not the baseball park/six flags crap sticks, delicious authentic churros). I was so sad to see B leave but grateful for our amazing travel experience.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
El amanecer caro
For a reasonable fee, guests can enter the park at 4:30am to watch the sunrise from the top of Temple IV. B and I wanted to seize this opportunity, so we sought an ATM to get cash to shmear the guards the next morning. We soon learned however, that there is no ATM to speak of in a 60 mile radius. The hotel can be expensed to a credit card, but the national park functions on cash only.
Desparately, we probed every pocket, secret hiding place, decoy wallet and backpack compartment between us to yield exactly the correct amount needed to enter the park and pay for an escort to the temple at dawn. This sum was comprised of dollars and Quetzales, including 25 centavo pieces. We also contemplated which of our belongings we would be willing to hawk if we found ourselves a few Quetzales short. When we hiked out to the gate of the park and presented our motely collection of currency, the man gave us the ¨you dirty backpackers need to learn some responsibility¨look and gave us back the 2 quetzales worth of small coins.
We rode in the cab of a pickup to the base of the temple with several other tourists, and were promtly abandoned by the guards. Finding seats atop the temple, we waited for dawn. The next 50 minutes brought about 60 other people who had the same idea. Giant tours of Americans and Chilenos, one led by an obnoxious guide who kept speaking politely in Spanish then morphing into a demeaning Cheech Marin in English. He ordered us all to be silent for the 30 minutes preceeding the sunrise.
The jungle was covered in a beautiful gray fog and revealed itself slowly as the sun ascended somewhere. The view was even more breathtaking than it had been the day before. The best part, however, was the sound of all of the animals waking up and greeting the day. The calls of howler monkeys abounded and parrots and toucans joined in a fabulous chorus. One guard had told us that the monkeys howl because they are just so happy to wake up, which isn´t true but I´d love to believe it. The morning sounds were the kind of thing that make me feel like nothing I could imagine could be more beautiful than the natural world that already exists.
Desparately, we probed every pocket, secret hiding place, decoy wallet and backpack compartment between us to yield exactly the correct amount needed to enter the park and pay for an escort to the temple at dawn. This sum was comprised of dollars and Quetzales, including 25 centavo pieces. We also contemplated which of our belongings we would be willing to hawk if we found ourselves a few Quetzales short. When we hiked out to the gate of the park and presented our motely collection of currency, the man gave us the ¨you dirty backpackers need to learn some responsibility¨look and gave us back the 2 quetzales worth of small coins.
We rode in the cab of a pickup to the base of the temple with several other tourists, and were promtly abandoned by the guards. Finding seats atop the temple, we waited for dawn. The next 50 minutes brought about 60 other people who had the same idea. Giant tours of Americans and Chilenos, one led by an obnoxious guide who kept speaking politely in Spanish then morphing into a demeaning Cheech Marin in English. He ordered us all to be silent for the 30 minutes preceeding the sunrise.
The jungle was covered in a beautiful gray fog and revealed itself slowly as the sun ascended somewhere. The view was even more breathtaking than it had been the day before. The best part, however, was the sound of all of the animals waking up and greeting the day. The calls of howler monkeys abounded and parrots and toucans joined in a fabulous chorus. One guard had told us that the monkeys howl because they are just so happy to wake up, which isn´t true but I´d love to believe it. The morning sounds were the kind of thing that make me feel like nothing I could imagine could be more beautiful than the natural world that already exists.
TIKAL
The shuttle driver was waiting outside of our Antigua inn at 3:55am. Slinging our backbacks into the van, we set off for the airport where we boarded a plane to Flores. Arriving at the Tikal Inn a little after 9, we were sunscreened, bugsprayed, water-toting and ready for our tour of the ruins by 10. Our guide was very competent and spoke excellent English, but I had my typical anthroplogical freak out while listening to the disparaging way he spoke about the Mayan people. Most ancient Mayans, like contemporary Mayans, were uneducated and believed things happened on account of dieties rather than science. The guide, however, mounted his soapbox every five minutes to expound upon how silly, ignorant and dim-witted they were to have done so.
Nonetheless, the tour of the ruins was magical. I took dozens of pictures, but none of them does the archaeological site any justice. On the first afternoon, we climbed Temple IV and saw the Gran Plaza and the twin pyramids. Spider monkeys in the canopy above and giant Cieba trees and Spanish cedars provided an ideal backdrop for our adventure. We exited the park at 2pm and decided to rest for the afternoon before re-entering the park the next day. The heat is extraordinary in Peten, Guatemala, so we spent several hours in the hotel pool.
Nonetheless, the tour of the ruins was magical. I took dozens of pictures, but none of them does the archaeological site any justice. On the first afternoon, we climbed Temple IV and saw the Gran Plaza and the twin pyramids. Spider monkeys in the canopy above and giant Cieba trees and Spanish cedars provided an ideal backdrop for our adventure. We exited the park at 2pm and decided to rest for the afternoon before re-entering the park the next day. The heat is extraordinary in Peten, Guatemala, so we spent several hours in the hotel pool.
Amigas
This week in Guatemala was blessed by a visit from a good friend from home. B came down Tuesday afternoon, and I was simply delighted to see her. She has limited Spanish skills, so it was quite a hullabaloo introducing her to my host, E, who is a real character. Every ten minutes E used a token English word, and screamed with delight directly after uttering each one (which I of course also rewarded with a high five) We spent the evening in Zona Viva, a posh area of Zone 10 with good restaurants. The following morning, at 5:55am, we hopped a bus up the road to the Hotel Tikal Futura, where the driver let us off on the median and sped away. B met a shuttle to Antigua, where she remained until I met up with her Thursday afternoon. It would have been difficult passing the days at work in anticipation of meeting up with B, but I was very busy. In addition to the bi-monthly parent workshop, the monthly board meeting with all of the helping professionals at CECSA was held Thursday. Guess who took minutes? Let´s hope that FR finds my notes acceptable, everyone was talking like the man in the old micro machines toy comercials. Thursday afternoon FR went to the eye and ear campus and left me to hold down the fort for the first time, which was a nerve racking but good experience. Then at 3:01, it was off to Antigua to begin my mini vacation with B!
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Día del Cariño
Valentine´s Day is big here. Thursday´s work day was like an 8-hour hug, it was fantastic. There was an assembly for all of the students and staff in which everyone was assigned one other person to whom to give a gift. The staff also had a secret friend exchange all week which culminated in a staff meeting where we discussed quotes/psalms about friendship, exchanged small gifts and ate a giant strawberry shortcake. The students even got to leave an hour early.
In the afternoon, FR and I went to the eye and ear campus for an in-service on professional excellence. All of the Prociegos social workers were there. The speaker ended his presentation with a Spanish-dubbed American motivational video called ¨Even Eagles Need a Push:How to Keep Flying in These Changing Times¨ Then, of course, more cake.
This afternoon, at the ASORGUA meeting, there was a belated celebration of Valentine´s Day which included plateful´s of typical Guatemalan cuisine and (surprise!) cake. When I arrived home tonight, I opened the refrigerator seeking my tomato juice, and blocking it was (surprise!) a strawberries and cream...cake.
In the afternoon, FR and I went to the eye and ear campus for an in-service on professional excellence. All of the Prociegos social workers were there. The speaker ended his presentation with a Spanish-dubbed American motivational video called ¨Even Eagles Need a Push:How to Keep Flying in These Changing Times¨ Then, of course, more cake.
This afternoon, at the ASORGUA meeting, there was a belated celebration of Valentine´s Day which included plateful´s of typical Guatemalan cuisine and (surprise!) cake. When I arrived home tonight, I opened the refrigerator seeking my tomato juice, and blocking it was (surprise!) a strawberries and cream...cake.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
La Moto a Canalitos
¡Santo Cielos! FR and I showed up at the city rendezvous point to meet the father of one of the students, who was to accompany us back to his home. We thought this meant another bus out to Canalitos, but he actually came on his motorcycle. His oldest son came on a motorbike, too, and they instructed us to hop on back. No no no no no no no no. I don´t even like skateboards. I don´t even go down stairs without holding the banister. This just won´t do.
But do it did. We really had no choice, FR was set to do the home visit, there were no buses around headed that way and the men had already used time and gas to come pick us up. I frantically considered the appropriateness of squeezing my driver like a koala on a eucalyptus tree. Deeming it inappropriate, I just put a death grip onto either sides of his American cheerleading windbreaker.
If I said that my eyes were open for the first few minutes of the ride I´d be lying. When I did open them, I saw a beautiful landscape of green gorges, surprisingly just outside the city. This scenescape was soon marred, however, by the presence of an unreasonably large number of turkey vultures. They´re huuuuuge. And I can´t just appreciate them as a species of bird--where there are vultures there is carion. What were they there to scavenge? Maybe they were waiting for me to fly off the back of the moto and break a leg so they could harass me then eat me.
We finally arrived at the residence and were greeted by the sound of ravenous, wild dogs. This was like the Guatemalan version of the Princess Bride without the quicksand. The father went in to chain up the 2 dogs. When FR asked if they always barked that way, he said ¨pues, solamente cuando quieren carnita¨ (well, only when they want meat). At least there was a nice looking rooster to foil the ravenous-wild-chained-up dogs (although, call me Danny Tanner, but what is a rooster doing IN the house?)
FR conducted the first part of the socioeconomic assessment interview and I did the latter part. This family, too, lived in virutal squalor. We both did our best to ignore the stench from the dogs. As always, the family was very friendly and generous, offering us cups of Atol (sp?) which is a drink made with water, sugar, and an oatmealish substance. At the conclusion of the interview, they offered us a ride back to the city, but FR asserted that it would be best for us to take the Canalitos bus. The father insisted that that would take an hour more of our time, but we were fine with that. Never again with the motos.
But do it did. We really had no choice, FR was set to do the home visit, there were no buses around headed that way and the men had already used time and gas to come pick us up. I frantically considered the appropriateness of squeezing my driver like a koala on a eucalyptus tree. Deeming it inappropriate, I just put a death grip onto either sides of his American cheerleading windbreaker.
If I said that my eyes were open for the first few minutes of the ride I´d be lying. When I did open them, I saw a beautiful landscape of green gorges, surprisingly just outside the city. This scenescape was soon marred, however, by the presence of an unreasonably large number of turkey vultures. They´re huuuuuge. And I can´t just appreciate them as a species of bird--where there are vultures there is carion. What were they there to scavenge? Maybe they were waiting for me to fly off the back of the moto and break a leg so they could harass me then eat me.
We finally arrived at the residence and were greeted by the sound of ravenous, wild dogs. This was like the Guatemalan version of the Princess Bride without the quicksand. The father went in to chain up the 2 dogs. When FR asked if they always barked that way, he said ¨pues, solamente cuando quieren carnita¨ (well, only when they want meat). At least there was a nice looking rooster to foil the ravenous-wild-chained-up dogs (although, call me Danny Tanner, but what is a rooster doing IN the house?)
FR conducted the first part of the socioeconomic assessment interview and I did the latter part. This family, too, lived in virutal squalor. We both did our best to ignore the stench from the dogs. As always, the family was very friendly and generous, offering us cups of Atol (sp?) which is a drink made with water, sugar, and an oatmealish substance. At the conclusion of the interview, they offered us a ride back to the city, but FR asserted that it would be best for us to take the Canalitos bus. The father insisted that that would take an hour more of our time, but we were fine with that. Never again with the motos.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Primero Dios
Like all of the poorest municipalities dotting our warming globe, Guatemala is a city of God. The population is split primarily between Catholics and Evangelicals. Because FR is a devout Evangelica, I have had the unique opportunity to learn about the faith. In fact, it finds its way into every aspect of practice.
Using religious doctrines in social work in the US is generally a no-no, and preaching can be classified as a no-no-no. This is not the case, however, in Guatemala. Religious words have seemed to provide comfort and solace to all of our clients, Catholic and Evangelical alike. Everyone´s policy is God first, particularly where and when medicine, education, food, support, and security are not available.
FR´s office has 2 solid walls of psalms, printed in bold face and mounted on pink construction paper matte. Solid walls. While doing paper work, we listen to Evangelical soft rock or sermons on the Evangelical radio station. FR fasts during the work day to show her commitment to Jehova and to spiritual improvement. During our lunch break, we read ¨la palabra¨, an Evangelical newspaper.
I can´t say that the fierce Evangelical presence is always comfortable, but I´m on the ¨When in Rome¨ plan, so I try to embrace it as a cultural experience. I told FR I was Jewish when she asked, and she was curious to know what that meant since she had never met a Jew. I think it´s disappointing to her that I´m not Evangelical, but she respects and accepts me anyway. I tried to emphasize what all religions have in common (faith, community, tradition, love). She agreed, but she doesn´t seem to understand that we Jews KNOW about Jesus, but don´t understand that he died for our sins. I´m going to leave that one be.
The weirdest thing was when the friendly Evangelical janitor came in to talk about misguided people from other religions. I kept my nose in the filing cabinet while he went on and on about the Jews and the Mormons, not in a mean way but in a genuinely confused way. It´s really interesting--they´re not ANTI anyone, they just really, really don´t get why the rest of us just don´t get it. FR was a good liaison repeating my explanation of Judaism, and I just kept quiet with the files, hoping the Janitor would forget I spoke Spanish.
Using religious doctrines in social work in the US is generally a no-no, and preaching can be classified as a no-no-no. This is not the case, however, in Guatemala. Religious words have seemed to provide comfort and solace to all of our clients, Catholic and Evangelical alike. Everyone´s policy is God first, particularly where and when medicine, education, food, support, and security are not available.
FR´s office has 2 solid walls of psalms, printed in bold face and mounted on pink construction paper matte. Solid walls. While doing paper work, we listen to Evangelical soft rock or sermons on the Evangelical radio station. FR fasts during the work day to show her commitment to Jehova and to spiritual improvement. During our lunch break, we read ¨la palabra¨, an Evangelical newspaper.
I can´t say that the fierce Evangelical presence is always comfortable, but I´m on the ¨When in Rome¨ plan, so I try to embrace it as a cultural experience. I told FR I was Jewish when she asked, and she was curious to know what that meant since she had never met a Jew. I think it´s disappointing to her that I´m not Evangelical, but she respects and accepts me anyway. I tried to emphasize what all religions have in common (faith, community, tradition, love). She agreed, but she doesn´t seem to understand that we Jews KNOW about Jesus, but don´t understand that he died for our sins. I´m going to leave that one be.
The weirdest thing was when the friendly Evangelical janitor came in to talk about misguided people from other religions. I kept my nose in the filing cabinet while he went on and on about the Jews and the Mormons, not in a mean way but in a genuinely confused way. It´s really interesting--they´re not ANTI anyone, they just really, really don´t get why the rest of us just don´t get it. FR was a good liaison repeating my explanation of Judaism, and I just kept quiet with the files, hoping the Janitor would forget I spoke Spanish.
La Pasqua
Today it was I who conducted the socio-economic data interview. FR and I traveled to Canalitos in a bus adorned with patriotic...US...stickers. We walked with the student´s mother to their ïnformal¨home, the word here denoting a ¨formal¨ lack of a sturdy roof and walls. The interview was of intern quality, but I´m sure I´ll fine tune it for next time. FR was very supportive.
While there was no light to see what I was writing, I was offered a glass of coca cola and had the pleasure of observing the most beautiful roosters I had ever seen. I´m not being sarcastic; these birds are surely the muses of all kitsch and crockery fit for Midwestern collectors. Black and white with blood-red crests, slender yellow legs and pristine voices. I wonder if they know what it´s like to be a human where they live.
While there was no light to see what I was writing, I was offered a glass of coca cola and had the pleasure of observing the most beautiful roosters I had ever seen. I´m not being sarcastic; these birds are surely the muses of all kitsch and crockery fit for Midwestern collectors. Black and white with blood-red crests, slender yellow legs and pristine voices. I wonder if they know what it´s like to be a human where they live.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Zona 21
An hour and a half on a bus united FR and myself with M, a mayan woman with 4 children, no job, no education, and no teeth on the top of her mouth. Dressed in traditional attire, she led us down a steep slope to her home, baby in tow. M´s heart glowed through the intricate weaving of her blouse. She was hospitable and informative, though she needed some help from her second oldest son to provide the details we needed. Their household had 6 people who share 2 rooms, tin walls and roof and dirt floors.
There is a heartbreaking negative correlation between people´s poverty and their generosity here. While this mother was certainly the poorest we had seen, she refused to let us leave without giving each of us a mango, 2 oranges, a Bosco snack cake and a can of coca cola. Climbing the path back up to the road, I was too overwhelmed to speak.
There is a heartbreaking negative correlation between people´s poverty and their generosity here. While this mother was certainly the poorest we had seen, she refused to let us leave without giving each of us a mango, 2 oranges, a Bosco snack cake and a can of coca cola. Climbing the path back up to the road, I was too overwhelmed to speak.
Villa Canales
The next home visit was 2 hours away by bus, a distance traveled twice a day by the student and her mother. The rendezvous was a shell station in the bustling center of the town of Villa Canales. The walk to the house necessitated the avoidance of a lot of stray dogs and chickens who looked like they came out of hell.
The student (who attends afternoon school) greeted us at the door with a smile. She is a very sweet girl. She shares a single room, bathroom and small yard with her sister and mother, who know some sign language. The domicile was cement and tin, but had a refrigerator, a TV and a portable electric stove. The mother has no education and no steady work, but sells things when she can and hopes to get a job at a factory. She is Evangelical and depends heavily on faith, and receives support from her stepmother and some friends she did not want to name.
This mother spends 44 Quetzales and countless hours each week accompanying her daughter to school. FR and I rode back to the city with the girl, saving her mother just a little bit of fare.
The student (who attends afternoon school) greeted us at the door with a smile. She is a very sweet girl. She shares a single room, bathroom and small yard with her sister and mother, who know some sign language. The domicile was cement and tin, but had a refrigerator, a TV and a portable electric stove. The mother has no education and no steady work, but sells things when she can and hopes to get a job at a factory. She is Evangelical and depends heavily on faith, and receives support from her stepmother and some friends she did not want to name.
This mother spends 44 Quetzales and countless hours each week accompanying her daughter to school. FR and I rode back to the city with the girl, saving her mother just a little bit of fare.
Zona 12
I accompanied FR, the social worker at CECSA on three home visits this week. The purpose was to collect information for a socio-economic report which determines, on a sliding scale, if the students´families have to pay for them to attend school.
We rode 3 different buses in order to arrive in Zone 12, the last of which was free since no one coming from there can afford fare. The mother of the student met us at the bus stop and walked us to the home she and her daughter shared. It was a single room, within a cement-walled house, without water and with minimal electricity. They cannot leave the house after dark. There were 2 dirty dogs roaming in and out and the smell was off-putting. FR was distracted by a noise from above which she said was ¨air¨but was probably rats.
The mother worked as a domestic in a different zone had no family, no education, and no knowledge of sign language with which to communicate with her daughter. Despite her unimaginable poverty, she gave each of us a piece of candy and thanked us for coming. Walking back to the bus stop with the mother, FR was praying out loud.
We rode 3 different buses in order to arrive in Zone 12, the last of which was free since no one coming from there can afford fare. The mother of the student met us at the bus stop and walked us to the home she and her daughter shared. It was a single room, within a cement-walled house, without water and with minimal electricity. They cannot leave the house after dark. There were 2 dirty dogs roaming in and out and the smell was off-putting. FR was distracted by a noise from above which she said was ¨air¨but was probably rats.
The mother worked as a domestic in a different zone had no family, no education, and no knowledge of sign language with which to communicate with her daughter. Despite her unimaginable poverty, she gave each of us a piece of candy and thanked us for coming. Walking back to the bus stop with the mother, FR was praying out loud.
Los Buses
Now that I commute to a different zone for my internship, I have gained a lot of experience with the City buses. Most of them are old American school buses, painted red, gutted and sometimes fitted with school-stadium chairs bolted to the floor of the vehicle. A muchacho hangs out the door shouting the destination of the bus, which is also pasted on the front window next to so many decals. The decals include the name of the vessel, usaully a woman´s names like Margarita or Esmaralda, and plenty of reminders that the driver is a man of god (¨jesus es rey¨, ¨Dios Bendiga¨or my favorite one ¨May Hadger Power is Jesus¨...say it out loud and think about it)
How does one complete a successful ride on these camionetas? Here´s one for Frommers:
1. Have a quetzal coin ready and waiting in your pocket. You will have to fling it at the driver between the time when he takes his foot of the brake he never really pressed and slams it on the gas.
2. Flag the bus before you can even see the sign indicating which one it is. If you wait, it will be too late for the driver to stop, and if it´s not your bus, just shoo it away.
3. When the muchacho leaps off, you leap on, grabbing the handlebar with your left hand and swinging the quetzal into the driver´s palm with your right. God help you if you need change for a 5.
4. During commuter hours, don´t look for a seat(there wont be any). If you find one in the middle of the bus, resist the temptation--if the bus fills up, no one will let you off, even if you push. During off-hours, sit the hell down, these guys will drive in the lane of oncoming traffic if they feel like it.
5. When the driver approaches where you want to get off, whistle, or if you´re like me and you can´t whistle, just move toward the door and say ¨aqui. If he doesn´t stop, you may or may not want to try again...he probably heard you he just doesn´t feel like making an extra stop. Don´t worry, he´ll stop soon and you can backtrack.
6. Dont talk. Don´t read. Don´t get distracted. You´ll be fine.
How does one complete a successful ride on these camionetas? Here´s one for Frommers:
1. Have a quetzal coin ready and waiting in your pocket. You will have to fling it at the driver between the time when he takes his foot of the brake he never really pressed and slams it on the gas.
2. Flag the bus before you can even see the sign indicating which one it is. If you wait, it will be too late for the driver to stop, and if it´s not your bus, just shoo it away.
3. When the muchacho leaps off, you leap on, grabbing the handlebar with your left hand and swinging the quetzal into the driver´s palm with your right. God help you if you need change for a 5.
4. During commuter hours, don´t look for a seat(there wont be any). If you find one in the middle of the bus, resist the temptation--if the bus fills up, no one will let you off, even if you push. During off-hours, sit the hell down, these guys will drive in the lane of oncoming traffic if they feel like it.
5. When the driver approaches where you want to get off, whistle, or if you´re like me and you can´t whistle, just move toward the door and say ¨aqui. If he doesn´t stop, you may or may not want to try again...he probably heard you he just doesn´t feel like making an extra stop. Don´t worry, he´ll stop soon and you can backtrack.
6. Dont talk. Don´t read. Don´t get distracted. You´ll be fine.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
¿Ud de EUA?
Ah, life as a cultural imperialist. I try never to advertise that Im from the United States, but in the Deaf world its a bit different. The faculty have blown my cover and the kids are really jazzed about it. I always catch kids jabbing other kids at the hall, pointing at me, and signing ´¿see her? shes from the US. Uh huh, the US.´ They are full of awesome questions and comments that Im happy to field. Here are the top 10 in no particular order--
1. Do you know Mel Gibson? He came here to Guatemala.
2. Did you fly here?
3. Your eyes are celeste!
4. Do you know Dennis Rodman?
5. How do Americans get to be so tall?
6. What language do they speak in the US?
7. How many kids do you have?
8. Youre not deaf, but you know sign language?
9. How can your teachers be deaf too?
10. What is your sign for watermelon?
The only thing better than the questions is the answer that one teacher gave. She explained that Americans are tall because our food has nutrients. Also, we marry people from Europe who are tall. She explained that if the students met a tall blond woman like from TV, married her and had babies, the babies would grow to be tall too.
P.S. Just when I want to put US pop culture on the backburner, I meet 2 students named kevin arnold and monica celes.
1. Do you know Mel Gibson? He came here to Guatemala.
2. Did you fly here?
3. Your eyes are celeste!
4. Do you know Dennis Rodman?
5. How do Americans get to be so tall?
6. What language do they speak in the US?
7. How many kids do you have?
8. Youre not deaf, but you know sign language?
9. How can your teachers be deaf too?
10. What is your sign for watermelon?
The only thing better than the questions is the answer that one teacher gave. She explained that Americans are tall because our food has nutrients. Also, we marry people from Europe who are tall. She explained that if the students met a tall blond woman like from TV, married her and had babies, the babies would grow to be tall too.
P.S. Just when I want to put US pop culture on the backburner, I meet 2 students named kevin arnold and monica celes.
CECSA
My new internship placement is a marked improvement, Im very fond of it already. CECSA is the educational center for deaf adolescents, also run by the Comite Prociegos y Sordos. The students are very eager to engage with me and the staff treat me like a peer, which feels great. I have lots more work on my plate, and Im enjoying it. I will be able to accompany the social worker, FR, on home visits because the Comite arranges for a driver if we have to go to unstable neighborhoods. The director, HO, is very kind and has scheduled for me a series of short classroom observations, which have served as a great opportunity to get to know the students. The GSL used at CECSA is even more similar to ASL, which has aided communication. I get to enjoy a daily coffee break with the school social worker and psychologist, meet with parents and joke around with the students.
The only tricky aspect of the new placement is the commute. I catch a bus at 615am on the highway loop in zone 11 which drops me and dozens of others at the entrance of Zone 1. Together we all trek a few blocks into the business district. When I leave the school at 3pm, I walk several more blocks in the other direction for an urban treat--a ride on the Transmetro. In service for about a year now, the Transmetro is a single commuter line largely resembling a Chicago El train, except for the fact that it is a bus. It has its own lane down the center of the main city road, and federal guards at each stop for safety. It is the only commuter line of its kind in Central America, and it costs the same as the painted, gutted school buses that serve as transportation in the rest of the city. All said, the folks at CECSA are definitely worth the commute.
The only tricky aspect of the new placement is the commute. I catch a bus at 615am on the highway loop in zone 11 which drops me and dozens of others at the entrance of Zone 1. Together we all trek a few blocks into the business district. When I leave the school at 3pm, I walk several more blocks in the other direction for an urban treat--a ride on the Transmetro. In service for about a year now, the Transmetro is a single commuter line largely resembling a Chicago El train, except for the fact that it is a bus. It has its own lane down the center of the main city road, and federal guards at each stop for safety. It is the only commuter line of its kind in Central America, and it costs the same as the painted, gutted school buses that serve as transportation in the rest of the city. All said, the folks at CECSA are definitely worth the commute.
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