Organic Fincas and Spanish Lecciones

September 29, 2011
Caoba Farms: Live Well, Eat Well...Most of the time.

A wedge of dirt between nail and skin
a smudge of mud on freckled mejillas
wind of a promise:
paired with a Spanish speaker
moving around each day
payment with veggies
“Today is eggplant I think.”

I never saw eggplants,
except en route to dump my weeds
weeds from the same vegetable
as the day before.
Solitary confinement, or only peace?
a faucet gestured towards
after a plea to wash my hands
one man stepping in to save me
-from wobbling wheelbarrows

At least escorted through the gate today
by a man with a gun I didn't recognize

Surprise-addition of myself to the tourist's view
shaking the clean hand of a clean man
with my grubby digits
a bit ashamed I'd not seen more
-more plants
-more land
-more people
or heard more, but no wind of
-cafes with mountain lookouts
-ancestral coffee plant heritage
-cloud milking like Peruvians
- wages for indigenous workers

-or a breath of English-
which was good for me anyways.

Now that I know, it might be hard to go back
to the way it was before.

My Day wasn't much more than:
Stepping on a round Guatemalan avocado,
Mario- as he patted me on the back when passing,
a diligent indigenous man chopping chives,
the only woman (cutting remolacha sprouts),
spicy nasturtium leaves in my mouth,
Australian accent Dave off to Rio Dulce,
leggy, vivacious plants, surrounded by weeds,
with strength choked out of them.

Lately my life has been filled with 4 hours of Spanish lessons (which get to continue for 7 or so more weeks!! I'll be a native soon!)And that's my maestra Brenda in the picture, wearing the friendship bracelet I made her too!

An orchid exhibit, working at the organic farm, Rainbow Cafe, figuring out the best way to dry fruit, and cinnamon-honey pancakes. Oh, and a lot of angtsy-poetical writing since I don't have my guitar here.

And BEETS! I like them. What a surprise since I've heard mostly bad stuff about them. However, the other night we had the tip-toppest enchiladas with frijoles and rice and lechuga and beets and guacamole. I want to have a sheep, steal its' wool and use beets from my garden to make pink socks!

And a wonderful birthday party at the Spanish school; we sung happy birthday in 4 or 5 different languages. Following the suggestion of the Guatemalan Birthday song (Queremos pastel/ we want cake) we dug right in. There's fruit in the cakes here- it's not fruitcake though.

Guatemala City "Excitement"

Museum of Ethnology and Archaeology jump-started our Guatemala City craziness. It was a slow start - there were a few interesting things in the museum, but for the most part I dislike old stuff caged behind class. The only excitement there was the time I tried to climb up a ladder to stand on a dividing wall and the ladder started to do the splits - held together with a teeny bit of twine!

We went to some fancy restaurant (I'm probably getting the museum and restaurant names completely wrong) - Cacao, I believe. One man and a guitar wandered (together) around our table serenading us. It was a tad awkward to have someone performing a foot and inches from our faces. Like all of the expensive restaurants we've been to our "crew" (usually consisting of David, Emily, and I)was disheartened by the high cost and low flavor of the food. I think my "raviolis" were 95Quetzales - they were made with a squash sauce and some odd herb... not to complain, I only miss cooking!

We visited the Palace (very opulent, ornate, but spiced up with a wonderful tour guide!) and a cathedral.(pictured below)

I realized how any big group chanting (even something as innocent as The Lord's Prayer) seems cult-ish. Our last stop (after in/famous Pollo Campero) was the market. Much of the same stuff as everywhere. I learned how the vendors make extravagant "Guatemala" bracelets. Got stopped on the way back to the bus by the pot-vendors. No, not to buy the stuff - but their psychedelic bracelets caught my attention more than any of the others. David came back - probably to rescue me from accidentally buying drugs.
Oh, and here's the palace:

Sunday Emily and I hunted down my Maestra's church "Rey de los Naciones": King of the Nations. There was a guest speaker. He found it necessary to endorse the sinner's prayer. I dislike it, only because "raising your hand to accept Jesus into your heart" sounds so easy and leaves the hand-raiser with a sense of security from the raise of a hand. I don't think a hand motion or repeat-after-me prayer saves anyone. I think dying to oneself and allowing Jesus to be the Lord (one in control) of one's life - and the savior - is what salvation is more about.

There are so many stunning vistas, sweet old Mayan women, intense architecture, etc that I'd like to share -- but the internet is really too tired for all that now!

Wooden flutes graced with brown lips
clever salsemanship techniques
but not enough to halt a stream of
“no gracias”
it's what we've been told to say.
For some of us it's all we know how to.

But when I can sit and draw
and you can stop selling stuff for a second.
we talk about stuff that isn't stuff.
Where am I from and what am I doing – here?
It's fun to sit in parque central-
most of us rush through here.
I don't want to.

Flor, fifteen anos, tried to sell me
4 or 5 table runners
they're beautiful, but who uses tableclothes -
except on picnic tables.
Woven in aquamarine, sienna, lavenders, and crimsons
this is too beautiful for a picnic table.

9 years old, she's selling gum – all she can afford.
Why can't we afford to give 1 quetzal for her gum?
I only had 5 quetzales, she had 0 change.
Maria came up, another with table-runners.
(I don't know the word in English)
They all start out trying to sell, but I rarely can buy.
I never really want to...
you (I) can't just ignore the friend I've made,
after 15 or 20 minutes.
I know I saved 5 or 10 people from
the everpresent “no gracias”
But I couldn't save myself.

How can I say no? I told her the scarves were striking:
works of art really – not from sweatshops -
not a shop of sweat anyways – only her own
- and maybe tears too after a long day
unlooking, distant tourists, with money,
distracted by all the sights to see --
through a pixelated, overpriced cyclops
easy to overlook short, wrinkled women
and young, dark, children.

“Hay muchos extranjeros?”
“Yes, but not many sales.”
A seat and a smile and a sale.
A rest y reir y retrato; like a pavoreal – that's what we'd say in the states.
In the states would we say “no gracias” to Wal-Mart or McDonalds or Shell?
Why is n't it harder with 2 brown eyes and 1 simple smile.

Chocolate Dreams and City Fumes

Let me tell you about Chocolate Bob.
Originally from Phoenix, Arizona Bob's lived in Guatemala around 30 years and in Antigua for 2 of those years. He started off his chocolate business with coconut-carmelized honey covered in chocolate. Today he sells fine chocolates in many cafes around Antigua. (Like Y Tu Pina Tambien - that means "and your pineapple also" - there are some fun names down here!)

I learned more about chocolate in the hour or two spent with Bob than I ever knew.

Apparently Chocolate comes from a fruit.
The Cacao tree makes these giant papaya-looking fruits.
Kind of like a pomegranate a bunch of seeds are inside encased in this sweet, juicy, flesh (we ate that part!).
You let these seeds ferment and dry out and then your roast them.
The process gets a lot more complicated after this...

When David and I first walked into his small chocolate factory a giant wheel spinning in a bowl brimming with melting chocolate caught my attention. Feeling cooler than Charlie in the Chocolate Factory we sat down with Bob to learn more about his Chocolate passions and share mugs of the best hot chocolate I've ever had.

According to Bob, chocolate is a science. He's kind of inspired me to grow cacao trees in my bedroom - except I don't really have a bedroom.

All that to say, the folks here in Antigua are extremely friendly, and a lot of them love what they do.

Like Alex, the guy selling flutes in the park yesterday... I was drawing a nearby horse and carriage. When he came up, wanting to sell me a flute I can't play. After a few "no gracias" he sat down and talked. He got around to asking me what kind of pencil I'd need to draw people.
"It depends."
"On how dark their skin is?"
He wanted me to draw a picture of him - I didn't get that until he asked how much he'd have to pay me.
"Nada- Necessito a practicar - dibujas y espanol."
It was great practice for me and a funny experience for us both - tourists would walk by and stare, another artist came over to watch for a bit, and an older saleswoman came up just in time for a joke. He was a funny guy, and at the end took a friendship bracelet off of his wrist and tied it onto mine.
"So you won't forget me, Alicia."

Excitement and Errors in Guatemala

A lot has been happening in Guatemala - first of all- it's simply magical - there are always horses in Parque Central, and horse-drawn carriages with (mostly) tourists in them trotting down the cobblestone roads. Reminds me that someday I'd like a really nice - not car- but horse. Grass is also cheaper than gasoline.

There are a lot of spontaneous (so it seems) musical performances. They usually involve panpipes - an instrument I've tried in the past to master, but have failed. One night our whole group of students from Spring Arbor went to a restaurant Pena del Sol Latino, and there was an Andean-styled musical group performing. The music was haunting and joyful, expressing their emotions so honestly. Of course it was a night I forgot to bring my camera (of all the times to forget!) So, instead of snapping photos that likely wouldn't turn out anyways, I pulled out a brown paper bag and purple pen (the only "art" supplies I had) and began to draw the musicians. There was a young boy walking around trying to sell us "extranjeros" (foreigners) bracelets, scarves, and assorted jewelry. We were all saying "no gracias" to his wares. He had just tried to sell me something when he noticed I was drawing, he paused, and I could feel him staring at me as I drew. It saddened me that he didn't have time to just do something like I did. I've learned that time is a luxury most of us have too much of.

This Sunday our host mom brought us to see a parade. It ended up being the wrong day, but I got a chance to watch this "San Miguel muralist" at his work. I smiled at the boys sitting nearby and watching him. Art is always so entrancing.

I also got my first ride on a bonafide "Chicken Bus" for a fare of only 3 quetzales - that's around 50 cents. Of course the scenery here is beautiful, and the bus ride was grand- I was doubting the name "chicken bus" (supposedly some passengers will transport chickens on their laps) until the bus ride back from an organic macademia nut farm we stopped at. Sure enough, there was a boy sitting next to me with - not a chicken - but a dove! We talked for a bit - turns out he was a motorcycle mechanic bringing the dove back to Antigua as a gift.

Parque Central is the place for - well, selling stuff we probably don't need to foreigners, but besides that, for fun! Bubbles, tostadas, flutes, stray dogs, and exotic fruits can all be found here.

Some pretty significant cultural things have happened since getting here - voting, which was (ironically?) September 11. Those voting centers sure were packed too - it's very important to all the businesses that all their workers get to vote; they'll give them several days off to bike or bus back to their hometowns to vote in. September 15 was Independence Day - we watched the flag raising in Parque Central and listened to a speech. (My favorite line was "No quiero abburir" which roughly translates "I don't want to bore you." Ha! Famous words from many politicians.)

I love being here, but my heart is really burdened to find some way to help the people around me. There's so much I have - just because I'm from the US - that they don't get. Even education - the government here is so corrupt, my tutor was telling me, that sometimes they don't pay teachers or doctors for three months. She said, "In the end it hurts the children the most." They're not just lacking quality education - there are many that go hungry and are malnourished - this isn't just stuff that happens in Africa. And it's really starting to get under my skin that we, as Spring Arbor students studying abroad, find it okay to spend 120 quetzales on a single meal while so many people are literally starving around us! I don't know what to do, but I'm praying and looking for ways to reach out.