This Just Blew My Mind
Not an April Fools thing. Just me flying my geek flag.
When I grow up, I want to be a scientist.
(You'll know where you are)
Not an April Fools thing. Just me flying my geek flag.
When I grow up, I want to be a scientist.
Posted 4/01/2008 0 comments
From our hotel balcony we watch the ferris wheels as the sun slowly burns off the morning fog. Our plan is to walk past the jail and descend to the plaza to explore the market and carnival booths that have gathered at the feet of the ferris wheel. But before we start exploring, we stop in at the Comedor Martita for a bit of breakfast.
The door opens into the kitchen, where three women are minding the stove and chatting and cutting up dead chickens. They look up from their work just long enough to nod towards another doorway in the back of the kitchen. We step through to find a grim balcony where a few tables have been set up. We settle into a corner table by the railing.
The balcony overlooks the valley and the town. Immediately below us is a small plot of corn. Around the plot, concrete houses are huddled. From their roofs small spikes of rebar stand at attention, ready to serve as the foundation for the next level of the house when it is time to build again.
Dawn has fully arrived and the clouds are high, just skimming the mountaintops, and so the sky is bright. At times, the sun even breaks through to stew the valley into a sweaty fever.
Still the balcony remains dark, nestlike. The morning light is blocked by drying clothes hanging from the rafters. The balcony is made of dark, hefty planks, and the warm weight of the wood brings a comforting sense of stability.
*****
Seven chicks and a hen skitter about on the balcony floor, searching for scraps. The hen leads them out of the balcony, hopping over a small concrete ledge. The brood slowly files out of the room behind her. All of them except one, the scrawniest, who can’t make the jump no matter how desperately she flaps her nearly featherless wings. She chirps forlornly a few times before returning to search for food under the other tables. There she leaves her pale liquid droppings.
*****
Breakfast arrives: fried chicken, scrambled eggs, black beans, tortillas. The chicken is good, and the eggs are amazing, smoky and rich. We eat in silence while watching the valley, the scrawny chick, and the two cooks who have come out to the balcony to peel vegetables for lunch. They watch us from the corner of their eyes and gossip about us in Mam.
Posted 2/17/2008 0 comments
The jail sits at the end of our street. The jail has two cells, which today are empty, and through the two bar-covered metal doors you can see the two latrines and two rusty beds that await new inmates.
Curiously, the jail has a charming location above the central plaza. A quaint cobblestone road climbs the hill from the plaza to the jail and beyond. The road is quite steep – to the point that in the rain, when the dust on the road turns to mud, it is nearly impossible to walk uphill. Every step towards the jail is undermined by an equivalent slide towards the plaza.
In the rain, then, the inmates are entertained by their neighbors’ Sisyphean struggles. On clear days, the inmates are greeted by a delightful view of the valley, the town center and, these days, the ferris wheels.
Posted 2/17/2008 0 comments
Another Guatemala post I've been working on over the last year...
My host family this week includes 2 granddaughters: Marie, age 4, and Benedice, age 5. Technically, the girls live next door, but they always join me when I come for meals at their grandmother's house. Every morning, they sit next to me as I eat my beans and eggs and tortillas. They’ve finished their breakfast long before I'm awake and so they just watch as I eat.
If there’s one thing kids like, it’s being chased, and Marie and Benedice spend a good deal of energy each morning devising ways to get me to off my duff. They whisper secret plans to each other, giggling their fool heads off.
In the end, they always come up with the same plan. The plan is this: Benedice distracts me with a question while Marie circles around to tickle me from behind. That's it. Every morning.
It works every time....
I defend myself like a wounded coyote, leaping from my stool and lunging at my Marie with teeth bared. Ah, but this leaves my back exposed to Benedice, who pounces on me like a mountain lion. There is a melee, and much chasing about the house, the girls doing their best to stay ahead of me but still close enough to feel threatened. I do my best to give a good chase without destroying my knees on the concrete floor.
Then Grandma peeks her head inside and gives us the stink eye. We slink back to the table.
I have a few moments of peace to eat until Grandma steps out of the house again, and the girls start to giggle, and whisper their secrets, and Benedice asks another question.
*****
After breakfast we always pause to read a book, and that book is always Where The Wild Things Are. The girls fight each other for the right to turn the pages.
When the last page arrives, the girls rush outside. I follow slowly behind, conserving my energy for the game of tag ahead.
*****
Posted 2/09/2008 1 comments
Looking back on the Todos Santos horse race – by far one of the most notable events during my time in Guatemala – I still waffle between being completely amused by it and extremely saddened.
After more than a year, I’ve finally given up on trying to resolve those two sentiments. With that behind me, I was able to patch up the essay I wrote about that day.
Posted 2/02/2008 0 comments