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Journey Back

My step-father died so I am headed back to the United States to be with mi mama to spend more time with her and, apparently, the Dallas airport as well. While easy and rather cheap to get a flight back for only $630 with a one-day advance, I am always amazed at how a flight that normally takes between 3-4 hours from CIMG4119Guatemala to Florida can take 12 hours because direct flights from Guatemala are hard to come by. So I have been in Dallas for the past five hours, two more to go, doing my time in layover land.

What most impressed me today, however, is the Guatemala City airport – sleek, shiny, clean, modern. It’s the most well-thought and intimate airport I’ve experienced. I walked into it and a smile cut across my utterly dumbfounded and sleep-deprived face at 6:15 AM.

My first memory of the Guatemala City airport was watching my mother leave from the second floor, my head poking out from between two wooden railings into this large open courtyard, all indoors, with one set of glass doors leading into it and the area where you checked in your bags. She turned and waved back at me and disappeared into the security check and then the gates beyond headed to the US. I remember how the light streamed through the dirty windows and the vendors piled up against the entrance, the dirt road and the wooden planks around the small moat created by the rain. The taxis weaved around each other and honked incessantly.

This morning, the sun’s rays reflected from the cool blue of the glass of the second floor where a neat lined formed as two people took traveller’s passports at the entrance and everyone else waited patiently around a railed section. Inside neat lines moved quickly and attendants walked around helping people fill out their forms.

I bought a Prensa Libre from a woman walking inside and as I tossed my bag over my shoulder, I realized how much Guatemala had changed and how much I was changing with it, just by being here to witness it.

New Wheels

When I was younger and living in the remotest part of North Carolina, getting a bike was the equivalent of having a car – I didn’t have to ride the “cheese wagon,” the bus to school where I was the only immigrant Latina. With a bike I could just hop on its K-Mart squeaky clean wheels, and 25 sweaty minutes later I wheeled up to school with one pant leg rolled up, muddy shoes and lopsided backpack. Small price to pay for having your own wheels and no waiting for a ride or being pushed to the back of the bus. I had the same feeling today when I bought my bike- a feeling of elation and freedom. No longer will I stare longingly at the construction workers’ bikes propped up between the new tin roofs and cinder blocks at El Calvario. No longer would the caravans of other bikes and mopeds heading into Antigua remind me to my pedestrian plight. Today, I got a new bike. It’s a no-name brand but it came with an incredible pedal-powered headlight! Here’s my baby getting the full treatment by two store employees and Brad:


We Got Snail Mail

I feel connected to the world again and it’s as simple as getting my New Yorker to our house- with no special arrangements made at all. I just called The New Yorker, gave them my forwarding address in Guatemala and they promised it would be at my doorstep, two days later than most folks in the United States (they reassured this skeptic). I shrugged in disbelief, but figured it was worth the experiment. They also promised they wouldn’t charge me the extra $1.50 international shipping fee since I was in the middle of my subscription cycle. Sure, why not. Let’s try this out and see if mail does get to Guatemala. And here it is on our counter top:

Inspired by this event and now with the knowledge that I had two ways of getting things shipped to our doorstep – DHL delivered an almost 2 pound envelope to our doorstep for $31 three days after being dropped off in Oakland – I knew it was time to find the happy medium and get our own postal box at the appropriately named PostalBox at Interior Enlaces on 6ta. Ave. Norte. No.1, 7832-5546. We pre-paid the 20 pound weight and paid the $15 one-time inscription fee. It was Q500 even and we got our own “apartment” number. Anything that comes to our box gets shipped automatically and the weight gets deducted from our pre-paid amount. Economist, Harpers and Atlantic Monthly come on over!

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Is there a DJ in the Convento?

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BradElectro played his first Antigua gig this year at the opening of Club Fotográfico de Antigua’s photography exhibit in Las Capuchinas, an ancient convent of all places, and introduced his special recipe of house music to the art-loving audience. We had a town crier proclaim the event official, and the rain stopped long enough for the crowd to warm up to each other. For me the best part was actually preparing for the show, where we shared the intimacy of hanging up our work and sequencing the pictures on the wall. I also appreciated learning the technique of hanging matted pictures using fish line, toothpicks and masking tape. For a tutorial, watch a video of Nelo the master at work.

Go Fly a Kite

I am horribly late in posting these pictures from Sumpango, Sacatepéquez’s Kite Festival on Nov.1, pero mejor tarde que nunca. Besides I’ve been thinking about kites. I’ve been thinking of them in the obvious revived Maya custom of using giant kites to send messages to ancestors during Day of the Dead, but also in the way Guatemalans often fly kites with their children as a pastime on Sundays or wherever there are open spaces with even the slightest bit of wind. And so I catch myself staring at how teaching a child how to fly a kite here is a central image, incredibly captivating, about teaching a child individuation and independence. While similar teachable moments exist in the United States, I can’t say that it’s as common a sight to behold as it is here.

Antigua Más Que Ruinas Exhibit

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Today was the first day I was able to function and at remain upright for a few hours in Antigua, flyering for our photo club’s upcoming exhibit on Nov. 6th at 7 PM, with music by our very own DJ Brad Electro.  I had two of my photos printed and we picked up matte board and foam core for mounting them. I tried not to cough on the lovely flyers created by our club’s illustrious leader, Leonel Mijangos Hernández “Nelo”. Quoting Antigua Daily Photo here’s more about the event:

The exhibition is a part of the celebration of the 40th Anniversary of the Consejo para la Protección de La Antigua Guatemala. The exhibition will have two objectives: to introduce the club to the local community and to collaborate with a local association in need of support through the sale of the exhibited photographs.

The opening of the exposition will be celebrated November 6 at 7 pm with a musical presentation by DJ BradElectro. JP’s Rumbar will be sponsoring the event with cocktails.

If you will be in Guatemala in November, you are cordially invited to join us and to purchase high-quality photographs to support a local association in need of funds.

Not So Secret Remedies

I like being sick, it’s true, because it slows me down and forces me to pay attention to things. That said, I can always count on Guatemala knocking me off my feet for at least a week with germs that make me wish I hadn’t used so much antibacterial everything in the United States. I did my best to do the just walk it off and attend to business as usual: heading West to “Alaska” near Santa Catarina to help some friends on Saturday, going to Sumpango for the Kite Festival on Sunday, heading off to Guatemala City at 4:30 AM to get my Alaskan friends into Roosevelt Hospital (another post on that), but come Monday night I couldn’t even muster enough energy to check my email and my teeth actually hurt.

“It’s official, I’ve never seen you this sick before,” Brad declared at noon while I was sprawled across the bed. I called myself on it because on Thursday night I lectured mi abuelita on the importance of not taking Western medicine all the time and just letting the body learn what it needed to learn about the germs surrounding it. Public health babble aside I did stumble upon two magic potions for revival:

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Mar y Tierra Restaurant’s fish soup with corn, ayote, potatoes and wiskil. I had them make it this way for me because crabs, snails and shrimp freak me out. This pescatarian special to revive dead people from germy, mucusuosy graves is Q70. They do take out so I was grateful: 2 a. Avenida Sur, final #81, Antigua GT 5399-4345, cell: 5912-9416.

The other remedy was quite unexpected. In my sickly sweaty state I walked into my semestresses’ shop (because I simply had to be productive in some way or another) and she looked at me and shook her head, “Pobresita!” She called her husband who looked at me from underneath his bifocals, shook his head and said, “I think you need to give her the recipe.”

“Mire pues,” she said and I knew I needed to pay attention. “Usted es Guatemalteca y es importante que sepa esto para poder cuidar de otros. Pues aquí se lo escribo, es fácil.” I always worry when I hear the phrase: “it’s going to be easy, just remember that.” She wrote down the letters: T-O-M-E.

  • T is for Tomillo – a few bunches of that. I got lucky because she happened to have a few bunches.
  • O is for Ocote – just a few pieces. Ocote is some kind of tree bark used to light fires. Apparently you can find this in the mercado but I was too tired for all the usual market activity.
  • M is for Miel Blanca – Lots of white honey. Not sure how it’s different from regular honey. I’ll ask mi primo about that, he just went to a bee conference last week in Antigua.
  • E is for Eucalipto – 4 leaves of Eucalyptus.

Once you have all these ingredients, boil them together, add the honey and perhaps a lime for good measure. Even though we didn’t have ocote, we cooked it all and I drank it all up. It was very soothing, but now that the germ warefare continues and night presses on, I think sleep will also do the trick. My kingdom for an ocote!

Getting Gothic in Guate

Blackletter, also known as Gothic script, has been with us for centuries– from French monks to German Nazis to Mexican lowriders– and of course it’s all over the signage of Guatemala! If you read anything important in this country, i.e. religious or market-related, chances are it’s been set in blackletter type. Actually it’ll most likely be scripted by hand, just like those old European dudes used to do. In all fairness, the degree of technical mastery of your average tienda signpainter –vs– an old school Bible-scribing monk is debatable, but hey it’s all goth. Anyway, being the thoughtful visual observer I am, I pondered to myself: “Well, my graphic design work is important. Why not re-brand with some bitchin’ blackletter?” And so I did, on the splash page of my portfolio!

Bradley Barrett Eller, Disenador Grafico

Now which one of these actually works in Guatemala?

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I got this from Mashable in my random searches for phones that might work well in Guate. Now where’s the new Android phone in there? I am also wondering when people will start reviewing these in developing countries based on what’s most compatible with networks down here.

Back then we had it good – my Blackberry & me

My relationship with my Blackberry Pearl is on the rocks since we got to Guatemala. We don’t talk as much anymore- when we first started it was hard to tell my hand from its curvy little frame. Now I’m looking at other phones, I admit it, not just once in a while, but every time when we go out, I look at other mobile-users bending lovingly towards their iPhones, their Sidekicks or the new Ericssons. Instead I keep my Blackberry in my bag, buried beneath the lint, small coins and religious flyers deep at the bottom. I pick up my cheap Tigo phone on which I can listen to radio for free but have to write phone numbers down in my notebook.

It stopped being us against the First World, showing them who rules in this EDGE land of simple data transfer to Blackberry configured RIM networks and manual WAP configurations. But when I left AT&T’s data plan it was 12 hours of Tigo customer “support.” Back then I believed we could do it, we didn’t need to jail break each other, we could conquer the world, and not be afraid of PDOA (Public Display Of Access). Imagine a PDOA with an iPhone here on the street in Guatemala or on the chicken bus, riding through the smokey sunset. We laughed at them. But now I have to use the browser on my phone to get to my Gmail, my Twitter, my Facebook, my WordPress; things just aren’t the same without the shortcuts of love we had for each other everyday.

But today when the most competent of the Tigo guys I’ve spoken with all week said to me: “Seño, fíjese, que ya no podemos hacer nada ni AT&T ni Tigo ni Blackberry porque es el software de Blackberry y va tener que llevarlo a installer software para que trabaje con otras frecuencias.” Well, something broke. Shattered is really the word and it was my faith in the crackberry that has been my best friend for three years, three countries, three phones (the same model), just a different SIM card in each country and it was us and the open road. So I’m at a point where my friends are telling me, have you considered therapy? Have you tried time apart? Seeing other phones? I’m not sure I want to invest any more time in it but, I’m not ready to leave either. I mean we still look good together, but we’re more like friends. Just friends. Maybe it’s for the best.

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