new digs

Where the magic happens.



The Peace Corps shelves.



Possibly the most hilarious thing in my room. The nursing students who lived here before me left this up on the wall--and have asked me not to take it down until they can come and retrieve it. Just in case you don't understand it, it's a poster that explains the various methods of family planning. Attached to it are: an intrauterine device, a packet of birth control pills, a vial of Depo-Provera, a condom and a "collar" that is supposed to help you count your fertile days, but which I think doesn't really do anything to prevent pregnancy. "Eso no es muy confiable," I always say. It's great waking up every morning to a diagram of a sterilized man.



The stove that was so much trouble to get.

at last...

Some fabulous freedom toast cooked on my gas stove.

smells like volunteer spirit

I have never in my life gone so long without bathing.

Tomorrow it will be over a week with little more than a sponge bath every few days to attend to my personal hygiene.

I'd like to describe my bathing situation. For the past four months, to wash myself I have had to wake up extra early, heat up water on the stove, and then carry it into an outdoor shower stall. There one uses a small bowl to throw water over oneself, a little at a time. Lather, rinse, repeat. It's not the most comfortable way to bathe and I don't really think it's as effective as a shower, but it more or less gets the job done.

Bathing this way takes a lot of energy and motivation. Sometimes it's hard to summon the drive to heat up the water, haul it where you need to go, and be constantly dousing yourself instead of letting manmade technology do the work.

But never has it taken more energy than the past week. You see, I recently purchased a gas stove for my new residence. One has to buy the stovetop and the propane tank separately and then attach them with a hose.

When I finally got all the needed parts, I realized that the salespeople had forgotten to include burners for the gas stove. This meant yet another trip to the "state capital." While there, I bought vegetables and spaghetti in anticipation of a working stove an access to cooking.

When I got home, I realized that I couldn't connect the gas tank to the stove. The valve on the hose wouldn't fit. This means no spaghetti, no stir-fry and worst of all, another day of no hot water to bathe in. It also means that it is impossible to boil water (which is necessary before drinking anything that comes out of the tap).

Which brings me to why I have finally opened that bottle of wine I was saving for an especially hard day.

Today I sat through a lunch where I didn't understand a word that was said, was the butt of many jokes re: my marrying any of the other men at the lunch, and choked down a soda (I hate carbonated drinks).

My neighbor forced me to ask for leftovers, even though nobody else at the party did.

And I smell like a person who hasn't showered in a week.

Readers, raise your glasses with me in a toast to Guatemala--may she live in peace, justice and prosperity forever.