So, the other day, I was talking to a fellow volunteer about how our parents are afraid we will come back to the US uber-liberal and totally disenchanted with American culture. And while that may happen, at least for now, I feel prouder of my country than I have in years. Here in Peace Corps training, you really feel the call to national service that John F. Kennedy gave when he said, ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country. My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man," which is at the heart of the best kind of liberalism. It's great to know that for the past forty-five years, throughout a civil war, various earthquakes, hurricanes and all kinds of political unrest, Peace Corps has remained, trying to impart small, positive changes in the world. I'm also proud that, unlike Guatemala, we have strong(er) child support laws, it's not acceptable to ride with your three young children on a motorcycle, and in most places you can drink water straight out of the tap without getting worms, a parasite or worse.
And while I like how close families are here, I feel good that in my family, we stay close even when we are far apart geographically--it's ok to go out into the world and be yourself and have new experiences, as long as you call home on your sister's birthday.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Greetings!
It's been a little over two weeks since I arrived here in beautiful Guatemala. Here's a brief recap of what all has been going on:
The thing that is really amazing about my time here is that in one day you can have like last Sunday, where there are at least three experiences that are completely simple, completely mundane and at the same time, the kind of thing I know I will remember my whole life.
Doña Susana (my host aunt) took me to mass in Antigua. The church there is centuries old, and very beautiful, and there was a youth orchestra of mandolins, violins and marimbas playing the hymns. We even sung one that I used to sing in the Spanish service at All Saints' back in Arkansas, which was kind of a comfort. The priest was hilarious--apparently. I personally didn't catch any of his jokes, but the congregation laughed a lot. It was Pentecost, and he spoke about having the Holy Spirit in our lives.
Then I took Doña Susana out for a licuado (smoothie), which was really nice. I asked her when the happiest years of her life had been, and she said, "The past five years. The economic situation has improved a little, because my sons work."
Finally, when Seño. Maria (host mom) returned from work, we walked up to the town cemetery to lay flowers on their mother's grave. She died when Maria and Susana were only 18 and 20. The cemetery is at the top of a very, very steep hill, but the view is incredible. You can see the tin and adobe textures of the whole town stretched out , the dark polluted river that winds through all the hills and valleys and the pan-American highway that stretches from Alaska to the tip of Argentina.
It just didn't seem right that so much should have to fit in only one Sunday!
Anyway, all that was before I got sicker than I've ever been in my life. "Lo siento que yo vomité en el piso de su baño," is definitely a Spanish phrase I never wanted to learn, and I'm wearing out the pages of Where There is No Doctor.
Overall, though, I'm happy, the food is good, I love my host family, I have access to a lukewarm shower, and training is OK.
I love and miss you all.
The thing that is really amazing about my time here is that in one day you can have like last Sunday, where there are at least three experiences that are completely simple, completely mundane and at the same time, the kind of thing I know I will remember my whole life.
Doña Susana (my host aunt) took me to mass in Antigua. The church there is centuries old, and very beautiful, and there was a youth orchestra of mandolins, violins and marimbas playing the hymns. We even sung one that I used to sing in the Spanish service at All Saints' back in Arkansas, which was kind of a comfort. The priest was hilarious--apparently. I personally didn't catch any of his jokes, but the congregation laughed a lot. It was Pentecost, and he spoke about having the Holy Spirit in our lives.
Then I took Doña Susana out for a licuado (smoothie), which was really nice. I asked her when the happiest years of her life had been, and she said, "The past five years. The economic situation has improved a little, because my sons work."
Finally, when Seño. Maria (host mom) returned from work, we walked up to the town cemetery to lay flowers on their mother's grave. She died when Maria and Susana were only 18 and 20. The cemetery is at the top of a very, very steep hill, but the view is incredible. You can see the tin and adobe textures of the whole town stretched out , the dark polluted river that winds through all the hills and valleys and the pan-American highway that stretches from Alaska to the tip of Argentina.
It just didn't seem right that so much should have to fit in only one Sunday!
Anyway, all that was before I got sicker than I've ever been in my life. "Lo siento que yo vomité en el piso de su baño," is definitely a Spanish phrase I never wanted to learn, and I'm wearing out the pages of Where There is No Doctor.
Overall, though, I'm happy, the food is good, I love my host family, I have access to a lukewarm shower, and training is OK.
I love and miss you all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
