de mal humor

Monday I returned home from a trip to Huehue to find my door ajar. Now, I was certain I had locked it on the way out. I went to ask my neighbor, "Who went in my room?"

(It should probably be stated here that at this moment there were many people outside my front porch. Most of them were Señoras who were efficiently killing and starting to cook over ten turkeys. The rest were the mayor and the auxiliary mayors from the surrounding communities. No one would give me a straight answer about what they were doing with the turkeys.)

"Well, we needed to get into the room adjacent to yours, and the key to the outside door wasn't working. So we went in your room."

"Um...well...if you do that again, could you close the door afterward?"

"Oh, but we were all out here. Nothing bad would have happened."

Given the fact that we were in front of all of the local government, I contained myself, and went into my room, shutting the door behind me. I uttered an oath. Then there was a knock on my door.

"Yes?" It was the girl who had rented my room before I moved in.

"Can I come in?"

I let her in. She seemed to just want to shoot the breeze for a few minutes, and informed me that she is probably moving into the adjacent room (the one that my neighbor got into) next month. I was still trying to keep my cool.

On her way out I asked, "Ana, why are they killing all those turkeys?"

"Yes." She said. And she left.

As she shut the door, I uttered another oath and made some disparaging remarks about...well, I'm sure you get the picture.

Then I saw it--the open bottle of wine from the difficult night before, sitting on the table in the middle of the room. If they didn't think I'm a hard drinking, loose American woman before, they surely will now. I swore again.

Security has warned me against going into too much detail about my valuables and possessions on this website, but there are plenty of things in my room, including my new stove and tables, that I would hate to lose. My room ought to be my room--not an entrance into another area of the building. I know this culture is a communal society that doest put a high premium on privacy. I'm trying to make concessions. But I need people to respect the lock on my door. I'm still pretty incensed about it, but I'm not sure what to do yet. Pissing off the wrong person, especially on the mayor's staff, could mean death to projects I want to do later. On the other hand, as Marcelino warned me, "es una inseguridad."

And the fact that no one would tell me what they were doing with the turkeys was just annoying. I mean, if a bunch of people showed up and started hacking up poultry in front of your door, wouldn't you be a little curious as to what was going on?

The truth is, I've been in a bad mood ever since the incident. I felt like there was a big deficit in respect for me personally, as well as my privacy. And my intelligence. Ideas on how to delicately handle the situation?

coming unhinged

When I arrived in Guatemala, they all told me to get used to having less privacy. Everyone will be all up in your business, they said. You'll have less personal space, they said.
This advice was fully realized yesterday as I sat on my family's front stoop reading. A man walked out of our house carrying the front door to my room. I silently did a double take. Is that really my door? I recognized the pink paint splatter and the ribbon tied to the window. Yup, definitely mine.
"Doña Ana?" I asked, "Where is that man going with my door?"
As it turned out, he was just going to fix the lock. It was back on its hinges in a couple of hours, but it was such a surreal experience.
For those of you who don't know, I live in a closet. There's enough space for a bed, but practically nothing else. Storage, cooking and cleaning are a daily challenge.
However, I've always wanted to be the kind of person who could live happily in a tiny Japanese apartment. Right now I'm not, but I'm way closer than when I moved in two months ago.
I think it's a good transformation. I really think twice about buying anything, even a new shirt, because it will take up more space.
This is all part of my transformation into a new-and-improved Emily: frugal, patient, capable.