It had been a long rainy day. Cloudy and overcast with no warmth or happiness shining down. I was chilled to the bone. The air was heavy with damp air. I dragged myself out of my warm bed where I had been studying and made my way to the kitchen. I sat down to dinner with low expectations and received a bowl of pipping hot soup with noodles and cilantro floating and savory aromas watering my mouth. Yesss! A perfect day for chicken noodle soup! I. Was. Pumped! It was flavorful and tasted just like home. Each spoonful spreading heat throughout my body. Like an internal blanket. Mmmmm mmmmm goooood. I was relishing my dinner when I realized the chicken thigh in my soup had toes. And toenails! I burst into laughter, stifling it with my napkin, a cough and a nose blow. But I couldn't stop! I had to excuse myself to the bathroom to regain control of my giggles. I understand that chicken foot stew is no anomaly. However, I never have chosen to make it or eat it or say "I'd like the chicken foot stew, extra nails please." Noooo. I am fine, A-OK with regular, little bits of muscle. I returned to the kitchen determined to eat the comedic foot. It was no laughing matter. I took a deep breath and held up my foot. It was then I happened to see Leslie going-to-town on her foot, sucking the skin off each toe, her face covered in foot bits. Like a child with an ice cream. She was just as happy and just as messy. Well this send me over the edge. I saw those little toe nails ready to tickle my throat and the uncontrollable giggles started again. I shoved a tortilla in my mouth, but choked on it. Then I was gagging and laughing and not eating the foot. I kept envisioning what the foot would look like with red toenails.
Even after they took my bowl with a mangled 1/4 of the way eaten foot away I was still laughing. Very inappropriate. I am a terrible person. They had a good laugh themselves after asking how I liked it I replied, "It was very good, but was a little difficult." Dificil. Apparently, not a common word used to describe food. Cracked them up. I am a pretty good eater. I can usually get anything down. But tonight Chicken foot won. Bastard. I'll conquer it sometime. Have no fear. Watch out chickens. Your toes are mine.
Even if they taste like crap.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Eucalyptus Forests
On Sundays Don Enrique and his son Freddie drive up to their plot of land on top the mountain. There they cut eucalyptus to sell in Antigua and Guatemala City. They invited me to join them this week, so I crammed in to the back of their pickup truck and placed Leslie, Freddie's 4 year old daughter, on my lap. I wrapped my arms around the squiggly girl to protect her from flying into the driver's sear or out the rear window, each bump bringing visions of disaster to mind. My breath grew short and quick, due to the high altitude....the death ravine 6 inched from the trucks right wheels!!!! The narrow road to the eucalyptus trees winds around the mountain providing beautiful and terrifying views of the town below. What appears to be a one car road manages to fit vehicles driving both directions, pedestrians hopping on the moving trucks for a quick ride up, and cows heading to pasture. I find it best not to watch.
We did amazingly make it up. As I entered the blue forest the sharp sweet smell of eucalyptus tingled my noise. Every inhale hypnotized me and calmed my frazzled nerves. Don Enrique and Freddie ran throught the forest with the agility of a deer. Hopping from stone to stone and climbing while the dry earth crumpled beneath. Leslie followed close behind them. She occasionally looked back to see how I was managing the terrain yelling for me to come. “Venga! Alejandra! Venga!”
We spread a blanket under a tree and while the men chopped branches of eucalyptus, gathering them into 8 piece bundles, Leslie and I played tea.
I began to think either the eucalyptus was intoxicating me or I was suffering from a crazy form of altitude sickness because the ground seemed to be waiving. As it got stronger I realized I was feeling an earthquake. A 6.1. I actually had to support myself with both hands as the earth wiggled beneath me. Leslie soon tired of sitting and demanded we walk around. She lead the way to a freshly terraced and planted field. I watched in horror as she climbed and delicately terraced earth crumbled beneath her. She left a vertical trail in the lovely horizontally striped field. I crafted enticing suggestions to journey elsewhere. They were not enticing enough for she wouldn’t hear and continued to crosshatch the landscape. I took a deep breath and tiptoed on the flat planted area, taking care not to destroy the ledges. Meanwhile Leslie ran up and across and down them. “Weeeeeee!” I attempted to keep my shoes and feshly handwashed pants clean as Leslie gathered a thick layer of yellow dust over her body. Her large shiney eyes growing ever brighter and happier with evey destroyed ledge. At this point I was very uncomfortable, with my dirty clothes yes, but also with destruction of Don Enrique's field. I was stressed out American style. Then I realized Don Enrique and Freddie were watching us with a smile, waving to us and encouraging me to follow Leslie. With this approval Leslie and I trampled the plot to our hearts desire. I continued to step on the flat areas covered with leaves and staw. Leslie did not deem such precaustions necessary. We journey from here to there scavaging for 'food' to eat in the casasita (little house.) Leslie hopped along wearing a large sombreo we found in the bushes. She taught me the most important phrase for any 4 year old, "espera me!!!!!" We rode corn stalk horses to Antigua until they died, the stalks breaking beneath our travel songs. Stalk after stalk, horses after horse we rode. Singing all the way. We killed a good ten horses before arriving in out city. We spun around and around in the city streets. Afterwards I worked out my upper body grapping Leslie's wrist and pulling her into the air on uno, dos, tres listo! The mountain over looked Santa Lucia where the Peace Corps Office resides. In the distance Volcon Aqua Caliente hid behind the clouds playing peek-a-boo with us. Once the eucalyptus was all cut and bundled and wrapped in blankets we headed back to the car. The men arriving far ahead of us, having to wait for our breathless bodies to return. As we drove off I saw the terraced field, no longer picture perfect. Leslie curled up in my lap. We were both coverd from head to foot in yellow dirt. We had it in our hair, under our nails, inbetween our toes and she even had it in her teeth from eating it in the casasito. A picture perfect day.
We did amazingly make it up. As I entered the blue forest the sharp sweet smell of eucalyptus tingled my noise. Every inhale hypnotized me and calmed my frazzled nerves. Don Enrique and Freddie ran throught the forest with the agility of a deer. Hopping from stone to stone and climbing while the dry earth crumpled beneath. Leslie followed close behind them. She occasionally looked back to see how I was managing the terrain yelling for me to come. “Venga! Alejandra! Venga!”
We spread a blanket under a tree and while the men chopped branches of eucalyptus, gathering them into 8 piece bundles, Leslie and I played tea.
I began to think either the eucalyptus was intoxicating me or I was suffering from a crazy form of altitude sickness because the ground seemed to be waiving. As it got stronger I realized I was feeling an earthquake. A 6.1. I actually had to support myself with both hands as the earth wiggled beneath me. Leslie soon tired of sitting and demanded we walk around. She lead the way to a freshly terraced and planted field. I watched in horror as she climbed and delicately terraced earth crumbled beneath her. She left a vertical trail in the lovely horizontally striped field. I crafted enticing suggestions to journey elsewhere. They were not enticing enough for she wouldn’t hear and continued to crosshatch the landscape. I took a deep breath and tiptoed on the flat planted area, taking care not to destroy the ledges. Meanwhile Leslie ran up and across and down them. “Weeeeeee!” I attempted to keep my shoes and feshly handwashed pants clean as Leslie gathered a thick layer of yellow dust over her body. Her large shiney eyes growing ever brighter and happier with evey destroyed ledge. At this point I was very uncomfortable, with my dirty clothes yes, but also with destruction of Don Enrique's field. I was stressed out American style. Then I realized Don Enrique and Freddie were watching us with a smile, waving to us and encouraging me to follow Leslie. With this approval Leslie and I trampled the plot to our hearts desire. I continued to step on the flat areas covered with leaves and staw. Leslie did not deem such precaustions necessary. We journey from here to there scavaging for 'food' to eat in the casasita (little house.) Leslie hopped along wearing a large sombreo we found in the bushes. She taught me the most important phrase for any 4 year old, "espera me!!!!!" We rode corn stalk horses to Antigua until they died, the stalks breaking beneath our travel songs. Stalk after stalk, horses after horse we rode. Singing all the way. We killed a good ten horses before arriving in out city. We spun around and around in the city streets. Afterwards I worked out my upper body grapping Leslie's wrist and pulling her into the air on uno, dos, tres listo! The mountain over looked Santa Lucia where the Peace Corps Office resides. In the distance Volcon Aqua Caliente hid behind the clouds playing peek-a-boo with us. Once the eucalyptus was all cut and bundled and wrapped in blankets we headed back to the car. The men arriving far ahead of us, having to wait for our breathless bodies to return. As we drove off I saw the terraced field, no longer picture perfect. Leslie curled up in my lap. We were both coverd from head to foot in yellow dirt. We had it in our hair, under our nails, inbetween our toes and she even had it in her teeth from eating it in the casasito. A picture perfect day.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
I live in San Mateo, a small pueblo with a population of 3,000. It is an agriculture community in the mountains. My host family consists of Don Enrique, his wife Dona Maria and their daughter Brenda. She is around my age and is getting married next month. However, they also have 5 other children. 2 live in the States and the rest live in Guatemala with their own families. They are a very friendly family and feed me enough food for an army. Don't fear, I will not starve here. I have Spanish Class all day and then hang out with the family the rest of the time. There is no hot water, so I take coooooold showers or lovely hot bucket baths. I rather enjoy the bucket baths. Water conservation and it is much better than dancing through a freezing shower like a squirming little girl. I let a scream everytime I get under that shower head and frantically clean.
All is well. I am clean and well fed. Can't ask for more than that!
All is well. I am clean and well fed. Can't ask for more than that!
A Day for Noah
The days are pranksters. I have made the mistake many a time of trusting the morning sun and cloudless sky. They fool me into thinking it is ok to leave home sans raincoat. All morning is bright, clear and warm. However at 1 pm, out of nowhere the sky unleashes a flood of rain. The streets turn to rivers and I am suddenly wading through in 6 inches of brown goop cursing myself for not learning from the pervious day. I skip through the river dodging candy wrappers and dog droppings and plastic bottles. I kinda feel as though I am a video game, except in this game I grow little green fungus forests on my feet.
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