Writings from Pachal

Antigua, Guatemala, is one of the coolest towns I have visited thus far.  It is an old Spanish colonial town and it's architecture and streets maintain as much of the original beauty as possible.  Some of the old churches are crumbling, while some of them have been restored.  The frescos and other ornamental features could keep a painter busy for hours.  The buildings along nearly all the streets have one solid facade, or at least it seems that way.  Although there are many businesses along each wall of the streets, you have to look carefully in order to tell what business you've just come upon because they aren't highly advertised like our American stores.  In fact, I was surprised to stumble upon a Subway with no fanfare other than a metal sign on the outside of an otherwise seemingly plain building.  The buildings frequently have courtyards in the middle; most storefronts, hotels, restaurants, and bars look like they are a small space, but go inside and you'll find some of the most amazing courtyards I've seen.  They have tropical plants, statues of saints and famous people, stone benches surrounded by fragrant flowers and water features that harken back to colonial times.  The mismash of buildings gives the place its own unique character that it just oozes charm.

I wandered around the streets without much thought of what to see and what to do.  I was delighted to stumble into the town square, where opposite buildings flank a beautiful park anchored by a center fountain that reminded me of DuPont Circle in Washington, DC.  The buildings are the governmental building for the mayor of Antigua and the former seat of the governor of Central America (Antigua was the seat of the government of the original Central American states).  Their large columns are so striking that you can't help but stare.  At another end of the square stands a huge (and I mean huge) church.  It's facade has been restored, but many of the former internal walls have not.  If you climb the stairs to the second level of the mayor's building, you can see the old church walls crumbling behind the restored facade.

I was sitting in the park, marveling at the buildings and people watching when a gentlemen came to sit on the bench next to my bench.  His name is Noah...I think.  I'm thinking there is a Spanish version of that name that I couldn't quite figure out.  We started a very halting and definitely difficult conversation in Spanglish.  He recounted his tale of woe to me.  Well, he recounted A tale of woe anyway.  I can't be certain that even half of what he told me was real.  Nonetheless, I listened with an attentive ear to show respect.  He apparently has four children and is out of work.  He said that last year his house slid down the mountain side in a mudslide.  He also told me that his family had not eaten in three days.  The guy was extremely skinny, so that could be true, but who knows.  In any event, I gave the guy Q50, which is the equivalent of about $6 USD.  Even if his story is fake, he still needs the money far more than I do and at least I could tell from my conversation that it was unlikely that he was going to use the money on drugs or alcohol.

After our chat, I headed out of the park for another stroll, only to be stopped by some locals asking me what I was up to and how I liked Antigua.  They invited me to watch the USA vs. Guatemala "football" (ahem....soccer) match going on that night.  I agreed.  Pretty cool.  Oh, and GO Team USA!  We won 3-1 in case you didn't know.  I met those locals and many other locals and tourists up at a local bar that evening.  It was like an American sports bar.  Pretty cool to find something like that in colonial Antigua.  I am fairly certain that I met just about everyone who is anyone that night.  Good times. Afterwards, I went to a salsa club nearby.  Wow!  They had a great band and salsa dancers.  I was asked to dance and tried to decline, but the guy said he's a salsa instructor and I accepted.  Had a great time and he definitely knew his stuff!  One dance though and I was good.  Made some friends that I think I'll go back to visit... I made it back to my hostel and crashed!  I knew I had to get up early the next day for my long bus ride to Quetzaltenango (nicknamed Xela, which is pronounced shay-la).

The next morning came way too early, but fortunately I could sleep on the shuttle bus.  The shuttle was more like an oversize minivan and they are extremely common down here.  I arranged it through my hostel so that I didn't have to deal with the crazy busy bus station.  That was a smart move, it turns out, because when I missed my 3 alarms that I set the night guy came banging on my door to make sure I made the bus.  Bonus!

*****

I arrived in Xela unscathed and none the worse for wear.  Because I had my huge backpack and my other bag, I couldn't really make good use of the extra time I had.  I got dropped off in Parque Central, which is in the center of town and framed my large governmental-looking buildings with lots of interesting architecture.  After a few pictures, I sat in Parque Central and people watched.  From what I understand from my guidebooks, there really isn't much to see in Xela besides Parque Central anyway.  So nearly three hours of time watching my passerby wasn't really a bad thing.

It soon became apparent that the women of Guatemala, particularly around these parts dress in traditional Mayan garb.  Their skirts are called cortes and their blouses are called güipils.  They are absolutely full of color!  If I ever thought I'd wear one and if I didn't have to lug it around for the next year or so, I'd buy one of those amazing skirts.  I might just have to get one and make a trip to the post office and send it home with some other stuff I don't really need.  Remember....I NEED to lighten that pack!

My ride picked me up right on time at the prearranged spot and took me to the small pueblito of Panchal.  Panchal is a small village located about 20 minutes from Xela.  One must drive up a steep hill and into the countryside off the "highway" (a two-lane road).  There are a few thousand people in the village, which has a couple cafes and tiendas (little markets), but little else.  The locals generally speak their native tongue and Spanish.  Their native language is one of the Mayan languages, I think.  Fortunately they speak Spanish too...not that I speak it well, but it's certainly better than no languages in common!

Now THIS is what I imagined it would be like when I said that I would do a little volunteer work.  This place is POOR, but they seem to have everything they need.  Not everyone in the village works for the charity I'm helping, but many do.  The Chico Mendes Project is an organization that seeks to rebuild the Guatemalan rain forests, one tree at a time.  They get no governmental assistance and don't seem to take too much of the money for administrative time.  The people at the Chico Mendes Project are dedicated -- really dedicated.  They work long hours and get themselves good and dirty.

I am living in the house of the organizer or director of the Project.  I gather that it is one large family that lives here, including the director Armando, his wife Claudia, I believe their parents and their children, but I can't be certain.  It's kind of like a compound with several small homes built around a central courtyard.  There is one other volunteer currently here, although there were two yesterday who only stayed for one night.  We eat with the family and help with their family chores as well as with the Project.  Would you believe that I milked a cow?!   Yep, first time ever!  It's not all that easy, but fun to try something new.

Generally in the mornings, we work in the small farm area preparing trees to be transplanted into the rain forest when the spring comes and the weather is right.  Sometimes this means that we are packing little bags full of dirt for future planting of little saplings, other times we are transplanting saplings into the premade bags of dirt, other times we are planting seeds to make the little saplings, etc.  The dirt under my fingernails tells the story of how much dirt I've been playing in.  Regardless, it's rewarding and there's a certain level of spirituality in spending so much time in nature getting dirty.

In the afternoons, we each take one-on-one Spanish lessons with different tutors for four hours each day.  It feels incredible to be getting my hands dirty and helping such a great cause while learning Spanish...and believe me, I need it!  My tutor, Alicia, is very patient and good.  Again, I thank God for her patience with me.  It's very easy to get frustrated and I'm impatient for it all to finally come together in my brain.  I have to remember that I'm trying to learn a completely new language from scratch and I can't just expect to have it magically pop into my head.  Practice, practice, practice.

Our accommodations are the epitome of modest.  This place has only the barest of essentials: walls and a roof over our heads, clean water to drink, food to eat and the blessings of community.  Quite nice actually.  I desperately need a shower and I'm hoping that I'll get one soon, but at least I'm not alone in this.  They don't bathe every day, so it's kind of weird to ask for a shower.  Fortunately I didn't downsize myself out of my shower wipes, so at least I've been able to use those for a bare minimum cleansing!

It's cold at night in Pachal in October.  During the day, it's in the 70s, but at night it's got to be in the 50s or so.  Again, I'm thankful that I didn't downsize my warm clothes too much just yet.  Frankly, if I am able to make it to Chile and Argentina, I will want the warm clothes then as well.  There are no heaters or fires in our rooms or the little house that the other volunteer and I are sharing, but there are plenty of blankets!

After dinner on my second night at the Project, I heard loud singing from nearby and went to investigate.  Turns out that Armando's house is just across from a small church.  I was delighted to hear familiar sounds, even if I couldn't understand the Spanish.  They hymns were unmistakable.  I peaked in and said a special thank you to God for bringing me to such a great place.  I am going to try to check out church service on Sunday.  I believe they are Catholic, but God welcomes all his children and I'm sure the church in Pajal will be no exception.

I already miss having WiFi and contact with people back home, but I suppose it's good for me.  If I expect to have time to think and pray and process and grow, I can't work at the Project, learn Spanish and waste time on the internet, all at the same time.  Something's gotta give and I guess internet is it for the moment.  It's like forced solitude, but God knows best and I don't question it anymore.  That's really quite a nice feeling: knowing that I don't have to question the situation because I can finally accept that this is all part of His great plan for me.  Removes some of the stress anyway.

****

Claudia (Armando's wife and kind of the queen bee around the house) said something to the other volunteer and I that kind of made me sad.  She said that I was the first person to ever ask about attending church and the other volunteer and I were the only ones who've ever wanted to go.  First, I find it hard to believe that the other volunteer and I are the only Christians to have passed through the Project, so it seems odd that no one would ask to go to church (let alone fail to notice the church right across the street from Armando and Claudia's house).  Second, even if you aren't religious, wouldn't you want to experience all there is to experience of life in this little pueblito where faith is apparent and obviously highly valued?  Just seems strange to me.  This is definitely a full immersion type of situation, so why not fully immerse yourself in everything?  I, for one, am excited to worship with these people and I'm looking forward to services on Sunday.

****

Armando, Claudia and I were having a conversation about Pachal and my experience at the Project.  Armando asked if I was enjoying myself.  Without hesitation, my answer was yes.  Being here is truly something special and I tried to convey that to Armando and Claudia.  I explained that I feel like I am part of the family, that I enjoy dining with them and conversing with them, that the Project is wonderful and inspiring and that Pachal has charm that no big city could have.  I am convinced they understood the impact of my words, even if my Spanish wasn't very good.  In any event, Armando said something that warmed my heart.  He said, "mi familia es tu familia."

****

My fourth day at the Project started out perfect with a nice cup of instant Starbucks coffee.  Sadly, we were greeted by bad news over breakfast.  Jose, nicknamed Don Chepe, is one of the regular workers at the project.  He lives in Pachal.  He is a man with kind eyes and a quick smile.  He suffered a tragic loss when his sister killed herself that morning.  She leaves behind four small children and was only 35 years old.  We understand that Don Chepe has been a wreck since the news came, as is understandable.

While the news is tragic, it gave this small pueblito a great sense of community.  Nearly all, if not all, the inhabitants grieved with Don Chepe tonight during a traditional Guatemalan wake.  In much of Central America, it is custom to hold a wake the night of a person's death and bury the deceased the next day.  This was no exception.  The entire pueblito is invited to walk to the cemetery with the family and help bury their loved one.  I attended the church service for the wake.  It was very moving.  It seems almost impossible to describe the sense of community that pervaded the gathering.  These people seemed to band together into one large family to embrace and hold up the grieving family.  Throughout the service, a group of women remained at the back of the church courtyard (the service, by the way, was outside in the cold night air) huddling over large cauldrons.  It soon became apparent what the women were doing when they handed out warm tea and bread.  The tea smelled like corn and tasted sweeter than any tea I'd ever had.  It warmed my belly and the service warmed my heart.  Here I was, a complete stranger to these people, yet I was welcomed into their mourning.  I prayed with them.  Rather, I prayed for them by myself because I couldn't understand most of what the pastor was saying.  I also thanked God for allowing me to witness and be a part of such a special occasion.  Granted, this isn't the best circumstance, but if a person ever felt alone and needed to feel a sense of community, this was it.

****

I had my final Spanish lesson in Pachal on Sunday.  My maestra (teacher) gave me a couple presents.  I never expected that!  She gave me a small, handmade pouch to carry my flashcards in and a skirt traditionally worn my Guatemalan girls and women.  They are so beautiful.  That afternoon, she came to get me at Armando's house to walk to church together (church is in the afternoon around there).  We attended a lovely church.  I didn't understand most of the service, but it was nice to be there.  The people were quite lovely.  The experience was unique and something that I'll cherish because I felt quite peaceful.

****

My last day in Pachal was sort of sad and exciting at the same time.  Saying goodbye to Ronnie and Darren, the two Australians also volunteering with me (Darren came to the Project just two days before I left), was bittersweet.  I had really enjoyed my time with them, and I hope to meet up with one or both of them again somewhere in my journey.  Ronnie and I chatted about wishing to get to Nicaragua and possibly crossing together through El Salvador.  Darren prefers to go through Honduras.  We shall see what the future holds.  I'm headed to Xela for a night and then who knows.