Politics According to 12 year olds...

"Ms. Isaak, I can't come to school today because someone is getting executed and it might be dangerous."
-An email from one of my students to start off my Tuesday morning. So I get to school and I ask my Grade 7 boys to explain to me, who is this person that they want executed? Why does it make the city more dangerous? And they tell me his name is Abdul Kader Mullah, which means nothing to me. Then one boy says, "Apparently in war there are rules, and he broke the rules during the war of independence with Pakistan in 1971."
"Oh, he's guilty of war crimes?"
"Yeah, that's it."
"So why are they hanging him now?"
"Because our legal system is so corrupt. They tried to put him in prison but he kept getting out then he was given a life sentence but the people thought that was too light a sentence because he's guilty of...what's that word when you purposefully kill a lot of people? Like what Hitler did?"
"A genocide?"
"Yeah, some people call it a genocide what he did because he was killing all the intellectuals in the country. He was on the side of Pakistan...like a Loyalist in British North America." (Huh, I guess I am teaching him something in Social Studies, nice.)
"So they are going to hang him today?"
Other student pipes in, "He's so old, they could just push him down the stairs and be done with it."
"Well, it doesn't quite work that way...Why would his execution make it dangerous in the city today?"
"Because he's a political leader of the opposition party, the people who are doing all the hartals, and they will be mad and probably have more hartals."
"Is that any different than right now? We've had hartals practically every day for the past two months."
"No, it won't be that different, just more cars being burned, and bombs going off, but you live in Banani so you're fine."

Yes, I am fine. I have yet to see a burning car or hear a bomb going off anywhere close to me. But I went to the public hospital on Saturday and visited the children's ward in the burn victim unit. Many of these children were on a bus that got torched, or were crossing the street when a bomb went off. They are not fine. They have terrible burns, they are in severe pain, they have remedial medical attention. The conditions of the hospital are appalling. If you ever watch the movie, "The Impossible" about the Tsunami in Thailand, you will get a sense of what public hospitals in this part of the world look like. There are not enough beds, patients with open wounds are lying on the floor in the hallways on blankets. The most they can do for the burns is bandage them up. We came to deliver little care packages, one for each child. It's a kind gesture, but it doesn't solve the issue. It doesn't change the fact that these families can't afford better health care for their children. It doesn't stop the violence from happening to the most vulnerable people in society. I did however, see a lot of faces light up as we handed out the little bags of treats and school supplies. And putting a smile on the face of a child who has been through that much is definitely worth something...but it left me wishing I could do more.

90 packages, ready for delivery

Dhaka Medical College: Public Hospital

To read more about what's happening in Bangladesh you can read the local newspaper online:
http://www.thedailystar.net/beta2/newspaper/
Or the BBC http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-25356034

Let's pray for peace.

The Ten Plagues of Egypt...

So about three weeks ago I complained to the office that my classroom smelled like a dead animal. Their solution was to open up a ceiling tile and spray a blast of air freshener.

Today, I walked into my classroom to find dead or mostly dead flies scattered all over the floor. Not, just a few, but like a hundred, so many that when I asked the aya to sweep it up, she had an entire dust pan full.

But during the lesson, flies continued to drop from the ceiling onto my students' desks. Obviously, they were disturbed by this, as was I, and I informed the principal of the reenactment of the book of Exodus that was occurring in my classroom. As I have a few first-borns in my class, he was quite concerned, and supervised the custodian checking out several ceiling tiles and coming across animal remains, bones, feces, and more flies. The tiles were then taken out, washed, and put back in place. Problem solved??

Sigh, only in Dhaka. There are certain things I didn't realize I had signed up for. This is one of them.

Flies behind my desk

The start of the sweeping pile

Follow the trail! 

You know you're in Dhaka when...

You know you're in Dhaka when:

1. A random number repeatedly calls and asks to "Make friendship" to which your only logically response can be "Friendship lagbe nah" which means literally "Friendship no need."

2. A random number repeatedly calls and when you pick up you just hear Bangla music...

3. You constantly find yourself asking the question, "Why is this wet?"

4. Your hall mate cries when eating plain white rice because it's too spicy.

5. The teachers are planning a fushka eating contest as a fundraiser for student council.

6. You have to stop cars with your hands to cross the street.

7. Your rickshaw plays bumper cars with the rickshaw in front and behind almost knocking you off into the street.

8. You've stopped asking "What is that smell?" because you either already know or don't want to.

9. You have whitener painted on your arms when participating in a local fashion show as a volunteer model.

10. You find yourself being a volunteer model in a fashion show for a local charity for acid burn victims.

11. You live off of carrot cake at the ARA (American Club), and naan bread from a restaurant around the corner from your apartment.

12. The first room mate bonding experience consisted of killing a cockroach together.

13. A gecko falls from the ceiling onto the floor beside you in the shower.

14. Winter season=Mosquito season

15. The guy selling bananas only knows how to sing one note.

16. When en route to a formal event, you hop on a rickshaw in a cocktail dress and immediately regret your decision as the rickshaw driver shouts at all his friends as he passes, making you think that he's parading around the indecent foreigners he's transporting.

17. You miss snow, and even cold, because snow and cold means home, and home means all the people you left behind who love you and some days you just need them, and only them, but you know they are waiting for you upon your return. 

A bit of a rant...and some Bollywood

A street in Singapore compared to a street in Dhaka; one is meticulously clean with paved lines where traffic stops at stop lights and uses turn signals and flows at a decent pace. It's quiet and people press the button to use the crosswalk which has a card reader for seniors who can use their special card to receive extra time to cross. The other street contains rotting piles of trash and puddles of rain or sewage, one can never be sure, cars, rickshaws, buses, and pedestrians moving in every single direction, disregarding traffic lights and making up their own rules of the road, honking non-stop and not caring who is in their way.

Sentosa-close to the beach in Singapore, see how clean it is?

Eating some waffles on a street in Singapore...that one piece of litter would be a fine for whoever dropped it.

Back in Dhaka, sharing the sidewalk with goats.

Sigh, well, it was a nice break. That's for sure. I definitely appreciate those little things more now, things like crosswalks, clean streets, general regard for traffic safety, and the overall feeling that people are not jumping at the chance to rip you off at every corner. It was a nice change.

But back to reality, here I am at work, trying to get things ready for report cards that are to go home next week and we still don't have a template...there are things I miss about teaching in Canada. Things like staplers, construction paper, stickers, unlimited access to paper, substitute teachers to call in when I'm sick, more than 20 minutes for lunch, markers, internet that doesn't stop and say "buffering" every 20 seconds, power that stays on all day, instruments in a music room, books in a library, you know, to name a few.

One last complaint, I swear. These hartals, they don't make any sense. From what I understand, there are elections in January and the current opposition party has declared hartals every week from now until elections, every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Hartals are basically a strike where a group of people walk around destroying property and targeting homes and businesses of politically involved people of the party in power. So it's not safe to be around the area where this is happening and as a result, businesses close, schools close (except for international schools), and people just stay home. So nothing gets done. Three days a week. For several months. And because some students live far away from the school, they don't come during hartals because it's not safe for them to get here. I tried asking why but I have learned that there is rarely an answer here. We just shake our heads and try to keep going about our daily business. Even my students are immune to the chaos, they tell me there is nothing to worry about, we are living in the diplomatic zone, we're fine, this happens every year, no big deal, they don't understand what it accomplishes either but it's a part of living in Dhaka.

But here is some good news, my students are so awesome. I didn't think that teaching Grade 7 could be this fun but I had a debate in English class about violent video games the other day and my students were so into it and had great arguments on both sides and it lasted the whole period! (We touched on other subjects of our novel study too). And I'm teaching them about persuasive writing and they were so excited to start research on their topics that they worked absolutely silently for 20 minutes...what?! Students can work independently and productively for that long? Who knew?

In other news I went to a Bollywood fundraiser and my friend had some fun with my makeup and lent me one of her saris. It was really fun, and watching the dancers made me want to learn Bollywood even more! My room mate has a Bollywood movie marathon lined up for me, so I shall be fully educated on the subject.   

Eid Break

Who doesn't love a vacation after working for 4 and half weeks? Eid is a Muslim holiday celebrating the story of Ibrahim who was willing to sacrifice his son Ishmael in order to demonstrate his obedience to Allah. Because Allah provided an animal for Ibrahim to sacrifice instead of his son, Muslims celebrate this holiday by sacrificing animals in the street. All leading up to Eid there are cows and goats tied up along the street, lining the sidewalks, stuck in car garages underneath apartment buildings, some with decorations around their neck or on their horns. It is quite common for the sacrificed meat to be given to the poor, how this is done exactly, I'm not sure.

Most foreigners choose to leave during this holiday as they get a bit squeamish with cow guts and blood lining the streets after the sacrificing. Apparently, it's quite a mess. So we decided to get out of town too. First we spent 4 days on a boat gliding down a river to the Sundarbans, the home of the Bengal tiger that is becoming so endangered that they are incredibly difficult to spot. So we didn't see any. :( But we did see beautiful green spaces, blue, unpolluted skies, butterflies, deer, and river dolphins! It was so quiet and peaceful on the boat, we all felt very relaxed coming from hectic, noisy, and crowded Dhaka.

The first time we dropped anchor we thought the ship had run aground, it was so loud! We took a walk through a rural village one day, right on the water. It was really neat to see, but made me realize how vulnerable these people are to the tides, any kind of serious storm coming up through the Bay of Bengal and their entire village would be wiped out.

 

 

 We did a couple little hikes through the mangroves but stayed very close to the beach. I guess it's not the smartest idea to go hiking through the thick brush where tigers are hiding but I did so much want to see one, from a safe distance. What we did find, were several flip flops scattered along the walking paths. One here, one there, I think we counted about a dozen, some with teeth marks in them...which lead Ganraj and I to believe that logically, travelers were eaten by tigers who refused to eat one shoe per person that they devoured. Makes sense right? But I did get to see the Bay of Bengal and some super cool trees!

 

The Feeling of Privelege...mixed with guilt

Growing up in Canada, I was taught in University about the term "white privilege" and I thought I understood. I understood that it was unfair, that it demonstrated an imbalance of power, that it contributed to the disempowerment of many minority groups, that is was wrong. In Canada, if someone says or does something deemed "racist," there are consequences. You get kicked out of class, arrested, sued, slapped, etc. because most Canadians recognize that racism and privilege based on skin color is ridiculous and wrong.

Let me tell you how it works in Southeast Asia.
Here is a pictures of my travel partners:

Here we are at the airport, all excited to get on a plane to Singapore and leave Dhaka for a few days. (We're also super excited about the Thanksgiving treats that my mom had packed in my suitcase). In Dhaka airport, you go through security right before you enter your boarding gate. So I walk up to the security and instead of putting my bags through the little luggage car wash, I get waved through. I walk over to the security staff to show them my passport and they smile and motion for me to keep walking without looking at it. So I stand on the other side waiting for my friends to come through. One of my friends had a similar experience, the other got completely searched and thoroughly questioned on her citizenship and reason for being in the country. Can you guess which one? I was getting so angry, watching my room mate do her best to be polite and answer all their ridiculous questions such as, "Are you sure you're Canadian?" Look at her bloody passport!! They even went through her wallet and told her that she was not allowed to take Bangladeshi currency out of the country. They were going to make her leave the boarding gate to go find a place to convert when Samantha stepped in and said, "We're all teachers here travelling together, we're coming back in 4 days." Oh, well, if you are travelling with these two white girls then it's ok, go ahead, miss. Is pretty much how they reacted. Are you kidding me?

We started to board and Samantha says, check it out, everyone seating in rows 10-30 is Bengali. Everyone sitting in rows 1-10: foreigners or rich Bengalis who paid for their seat to be up at the front. Did Rosa Parks not teach this part of the world anything?

On our way back from Singapore, I figured, Singapore is a multicultural society, surely this airport experience will be a lot better. Again, my room mate gets pulled out of the line to get her baggage weighed. But that seems fair because it does look rather large for a carry on item. Before she puts it on the scale, the security guard asks who she is travelling with, and when she points to me and Samantha, she is told, "Ok, never mind," and waved through. We laugh. We laugh because it is so absurd. We laugh because we cannot think of any appropriate reaction to such completely inappropriate ways of thinking. It was a funny story the first time, but if this continues to be her experience while travelling-I have no idea what that does to a person. I will never know what that feels like, to be discriminated against and treated like a lesser person. And I feel incredibly guilty because I did nothing to earn this special privilege that I experience every day. And my friend did nothing to earn the discrimination that she has to face.

It would be different if this were a strange occurrence, an abnormal event. But the reality is that it happens every day. And now I finally understand the term, "white privilege" and I hate it all the more.

Soft kitty, warm kitty

Being sick in a foreign country is never fun. After battling with Dengue ish fever symptoms for the first two weeks, I went to the doctor and discovered I had tonsillitis which made last week seem almost unbearable. It felt like I was swallowing knives even when I was simply drinking water, I didn't eat anything for four days, and my fever was so bad that I hardly moved out of bed from Sunday to Wednesday. But I still managed to experience unbelievable kindness and compassion from friends old and new, here in Dhaka and all the way on the other side of the world in Brandon.

Here in Dhaka, my friend whose family lives here, came to the hospital with me to get checked out as she speaks Bengali, but luckily the doctor spoke perfect English so that was helpful for me. (Side note; there are no such things as clinics, apparently you go straight to the hospital if you want to see a doctor). Anyways, she had her driver pick us up from the hospital and take me to her house so that her maids could take care of me while she went back to work at school. She gave them directions to bring me soup and tea and I had a little bell to ring in case I needed anything.

Next day I was back at my apartment and not being able to eat I was craving something to settle my stomach and soothe my throat. I told my friends of my craving for Ginger Ale, well, not so much told as pathetically whimpered that it was all I wanted in the world and then stumbled off to bed. Twenty minutes later I heard my fridge being opened and cans placed inside, next thing I knew my friend was quietly placing a can of Ginger Ale on my bedside table. I looked up and said, "You're the best!" to which he just smiled and said, "Feel better!"

I was ordered to three days of bed rest by the doctor but when the fourth day came I found a note on my door from my room mate telling me to stay in bed as I was in no shape to be at work and she had already informed the principal. We don't have substitutes, so when I'm not there, my colleagues have to use their prep time to cover my classes. All of them were more than willing to cover for me to make sure that I had time to recover fully. So after working extra hard on the fourth day, my room mate came home and still cooked me supper before taking a nap because she wanted to make sure that I ate, especially since I had told her that it was the first time I felt hungry that week.

On top of that I received numerous emails, text messages, songs, phone calls, and a FaceTime conversation which included a special little puppy who I imagine would have loved to cuddle up with me to make me feel better too. So I finally do feel better, and very well cared for, and with fall break coming up in two days, let the fun begin! 

Starting to find the surface

Off and running. That's how it feels, just two and a half weeks after arriving and discovering that my teaching responsibilities had been entirely changed I now have year plans for all 10 courses that I am teaching right now. Whew. That was a lot of work. And it didn't help that I have been plagued with some kind of fever for the past two weeks, it was starting to feel like Dengue, but the blood test came back negative, although apparently that can happen even if you do have it. But it doesn't really matter what the label is, either way I have to rest and drink fluids. It doesn't seem possible to drink enough fluids here. I am so thirsty, all the time. I have never drank so much water in my entire life and my throat is in a constant state of being parched to the point that it's now swollen. It's as if you arrive in Dhaka only to have all the energy and moisture sucked right out of your body.

My Grade 7's are a fun group. They were so quiet on the first day that my goal was to create a classroom community that would allow them to feel comfortable to be themselves and make some noise...I think I have done that already and may need to back up and start laying down the law during work time. haha But I am really happy to see relationships forming and students starting to speak up during discussions. The Grade 7 Social Studies Curriculum covers the topic of empowerment which opens so many doors to really cool conversations. I've already seen some of their views start to change and some awesome questions are being asked.

Teaching music is crazy. First of all, I am required to teach pre-k to Grade 9 music classes equipped only with a keyboard, 20 recorders, and a bag of tambourines and rhythm sticks. So it shall be a very creative music class and I have taken advice from many great peers and mentors who have been very kind in sharing resources. The internet has been one of my greatest resources, without which I don't think I could manage this year.

I also couldn't manage without all the love that is being sent to me from home. The items in my care package and letters are able to lift my spirits every time I start to feel overwhelmed. My room mate has also been great along with the rest of the teaching crew. The other day we went to an ice cream parlour, which I have to blog about because, I love ice cream, and it was probably the highlight of my week.

  

Juxtaposition

She watches me with those eyes, I can't look away. There are so many of them, but she is different, she is quiet. She doesn't ask for anything, she doesn't even approach too closely. Just watches...and follows... at a distance...through the market. We are haggling for oranges, my roommate is pro at getting a good price. I whisper something to her, she looks over at the girl then back to me and nods in agreement. As we walk out of the market with our bag of oranges I slip one into the little girl's hands. Her eyes brighten and a smile stretches across her face. I watch her dash off to show her two little brothers, huddled on a street corner, maybe their parents are working nearby, maybe they don't have any parents. Maybe she was manipulating me, maybe she was really hungry. I'll never know. This is life in Dhaka.

 She whips out her phone and 5 minutes later her driver is at the door ready to take us wherever we want to go. When he gets us there, he waits until we are done, and receives a phone call to bring the car around to take us to our next destination. Upon arriving home, we realize that we're hungry, so we send the driver out with money to bring us food. We have enough clean dishes for everyone as the maid has come today and made everything spic and span. But I don't feel like local food tonight and decide to make some macaroni and cheese purchased for me by a friend at the American Commissary along with my favorite chocolate bars and Ben and Jerry's ice cream. The tailor has arrived in the apartment across the hall, we all rush over and get our measurements taken for the gowns we are having made for the Glitter Ball; a Charity ball put on by the Australian Embassy at a fancy hotel here in town. All the ex-pats go out to these kind of events throughout the year.
This is life in Dhaka.

First Impressions

After much delay and anticipation, I finally received my visa and headed off to Bangladesh. I left my house at 11:30am, Saturday, Sept. 7 and arrived in Dhaka at 5:00am, Monday, Sept. 9. One 2 hour flight and two 10 hour flights later along with an 11 hour time change and I actually did not feel too bad, or so I thought. I stepped out of the air conditioned airport into what felt like a wet rag, welcome to 100% humidity, 24/7. Fortunately, my apartment and the school where I work both have really good air conditioning to keep me cool most of the time, so cool in fact that I actually have to turn it off at night sometimes so I don't freeze trying to sleep with the one little blanket that I brought from home. We arrived at the apartments and were told to rest for a few hours before going to the school. I didn't think I was tired until I started hallucinating flying lizards on my wall that disappeared into thin air...so then I decided to take a nap.

Upon arrival at the school I learned that I would not be teaching Grade 4 but instead Grade 7 Homeroom, ELA, and Social Studies along with music for grades Pre-K to Grade 9 along with Grade 9 Technology and Family Studies. Those last two courses do not have curriculum so it then becomes my job to make up what those courses are supposed to be about. For music I am equipped with a keyboard, a few tambourines and shakers, and a dozen recorders. For technology I have access to pirated copies of Microsoft Office and an eBoard that no one in the school seems to know how to use. When I asked for copies of a book for a novel studied the office literally made photocopies for each student which I am pretty sure costs more in paper and ink supplies than simply buying 9 books. Needless to say, I think I am going to be challenged to be incredibly resourceful and creative this year.

On Tuesday, classes started and I met my 9 Grade 7 students who were so quiet the first day I could not believe it. I gave them an assignment and they all started working on it silently, with no one asking for help, no one tattling, no one tugging at my sleeve...it's just so strange to be working with big kids! And the day ended with a sighting of a monkey outside on the roof beside us holding a kitten that he has taken upon himself to care for. It just made everyone's day because it's impossible to be stressed when you watch a monkey cuddling a kitten.

There are 11 new teachers and a new principal at the school with 5 returning staff. The staff who have been here before have a been a great help for the newbies and of us new teachers about 8 of us just graduated with our teaching degrees and took this as our first job. So we all have a lot of learning to do together. We have one teacher on staff who speaks Bengali and she has offered to teach me in exchange for piano lessons. So far I have learned left and right the fact that there are no words for please and thank-you as it is a very direct and command based language. I am also realizing that hand gestures are part of the language and I feel as though I need to learn them as well in order to communicate properly here.

I thought I would feel a lot more home sick this week with everything that was going on but I have little presents and letters to open on different days and emails from home that make me feel so loved that I don't feel alone at all. In fact, with all the love and encouragement I have received, I feel as though I could take on the world...or maybe just Dhaka for a year. :)

Tz'ibaal: Nakat tinra

Let me try and paint a picture for you of the community of Tz'ibaal.

Allie and I walk up the mountain road into the community, it's about a 40 minute walk from Campur. Lots of families have homes on the side of the main road and all that do come out to greet us as we walk by, "Allison! Alejandra!" are the only words we understand as most members of the community only speak Q'ekchi, their Mayan language. But we gather from their gestures that they are all offering to have us stay at their house. We respond in Spanish and more gestures that we are going to la cancha (community centre worksite) first. The children start following us and by the time we reach la cancha a large portion of the community has gathered to greet us. The boys spot my soccer ball and toss it over, starting a game while Allie talks logistics with the community leader, Alfonso. Soon Allie gestures me over and explains that the community is so excited to host as they had been expecting the entire new OG crew who were currently all sick in the hospital in Coban, and could Allie and I stay in separate homes so that more than one family would get a chance to host someone this evening? Sure, that was fine with us. So picture like 30 community members surrounding you and all offering for you to stay at their house and now you are supposed to pick. Allie and I looked at each other and explained to Alfonso that we couldn't possibly pick, so he decided that Allie would go with him and his family and I would go with Estella.

Estella is an incredible woman. She speaks Spanish fluently which is rare for women in this community and she explains to me with great pride that it is because she went to school all the way up to Grade 6. A lot of the older children also speak Spanish as they learn it at school and the men in the community also pick it up as they often have to leave the community to find additional work when crops are bad. Estella has three children, Francisco Nicodemo (Memo) who is 12, Alex, who is also twelve and yet they are not twins (?) and Andrea who is 3. As soon as I drop my pack on the floor Andrea slips her hand into mine and we are instantly friends. She natters away in Q'ekchi and I respond in Spanish of which she understands a little. She loves to play with all of my things and stands beside me bed in the morning until I wake up and continues to watch me as I get dressed and wash and walk down to the outhouse. There is no such thing as personal space here. But I don't mind my shadow. Whenever I return to the house she runs out to meet me and jumps into my arms. She hides in my sleeping bag and waits for me to tickle her. She screams with laughter when I react in shock to the hen roosting on my sleeping bag after breakfast one morning and promptly scoops it up and runs it outside. She makes up her own songs consisting of one word, "Guatemalteco." It's a catchy tune and Estella tells her to change the word from Guatemalan to Canada because I'm from Canada. Andrea likes this idea and continues with the same melody, "Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada."

Two days later Robin, the new OG trip leader who had been recovering in the hospital, arrived in a taxi which drove past the window of our house. This was the second OG visit of the summer so the community already knew and loved Robin. Francisco looked out the window, shouted "Robin!" dropped his tortilla and ran out the door. Alex, shoved his tortilla in his mouth and followed suit. Estella laughed and said, "We will wait here." All week Estella kept asking if Robin would kill a turkey with her for dinner. Robin, being the brave girl she is agreed, and on Wednesday afternoon Estella had a turkey delivered from Campur. She brought it into the kitchen where it walked around, looking a bit confused only to be scooped up and snuggled by Andrea. Robin started to have second thoughts about killing this animal that Andrea seemed to be so fond of. But Estella and the two of us continued to make jokes about naming the bird "Supper" or "Breakfast" and telling the bird to enjoy his last day on earth. When the time came Robin picked up the machete and did the job, it was fascinating to watch how fast Estella took that bird apart, using a banana leaf as a cutting board. Killing a bird, or several in this case, is a big deal. Meat is expensive, and not enjoyed often unless it is a special occasion, in this case, having guests in the home warrants a special feast. So the next morning, her mother and mother in law and sister and niece were all over at like 4am to help prepare the breakfast feast. When you have food you share it, hence the extra guests, not to mention of few OG crew members who found their way to our house that morning and whom Estella was more than happy to feed.

My host mom from two years ago, Carolina, had also been Allie's host mom last year and really wanted to host us both again for supper. So Allie and I agreed and the next day I saw her walking home with a hen under her arm. She broke into a huge smile when she saw me and showed off the hen she just bought which was to be for Allie and I when we came for supper to her house. Supper ended up not working so we ended up having two turkey/chicken soup breakfasts in a row. These women are incredible hosts. Giving so generously of what they have, going out of their way to make our stay an unforgettable experience, every time. Normally, there is always a bowl of hot salsa on the table with every meal. There was one meal when it was not there so I asked Estella if she had any salsa, 10 minutes later Francisco came back out of breath with salsa in his hands and change for his mom as she had sent him out to buy it for me the minute I had asked for it. Now who can say that they have done the same for one of their house guests?

I get asked all the time here, "When will you come back to Tz'ibaal?" and I know, I just know that it will happen. I have no idea when, but I have to come back, the love I have felt from this community is unlike anything else I have ever experienced. Nakat tinra means "I love you" in Q'ekchi. That's how I feel about Tz'ibaal.

TIG

All Operation Groundswell Guatemala alumni are well familiar with the saying TIG (This is Guatemala) which basically refers to the fact that in Guatemala, things do not tend to run as smoothly or as predictably as we are used to back home in Canada or the U.S. For example, one Friday morning Allie and I set out for the day, it being Allie's first day back in Guatemala she had to take out cash. What should have taken 5 minutes ended up taking over two hours as the ATMs did not accept her card and we had to wait in line at the bank and then they gave her the wrong amount and it was just a huge ordeal, TIG. So we finally hopped on a chicken bus around noon to Guate after being warned by the ladies at the hostel to only take the red taxis with the phone number on the side and not to ask for directions because then people would think we were lost and take advantage of us.

So we found the taxi and got the Monja Blonca bus station where the two of us and one local paid our fees and boarded. I went to sit by Allie and the driver says, "No, you can't sit by the windows."  Ok, so we are both sitting in aisle seats at the back of the bus and when we are about to pull into another bus station the driver says, "Can you just hide please?" So Allie and I look at each other with TIG faces on and duck behind our seats along with the local guy who also looks amused. After the bus comes to a stop we sit up and the local explains to us that the bus is not supposed to pick up passengers from the terminal where we were and that coming into this terminal they could be fined which is why they asked us to hide. Makes sense, again, only in Guatemala.

This is how we roll...hiding on a bus while travelling through Guate.

We hop off the bus upon reaching the first of our destinations knowing that now we need to catch a micro to take us all the way to our hotel. While walking up the road we come across several ladies selling tortillas and grilled corn by the roadside and we ask them where to catch our transportation, and they point across the road to a micro that is actually full. For those that are unfamiliar with Guatemalan transportation-chicken buses, micros, pick up trucks-none of these are ever full, even when I was riding in a micro (which is essentially a 15 passenger van with extra seats) with at least 32 people inside, we still stopped to pick up more passengers. But this one had people inside, on top, and hanging out the doors. There was no way that Allie and I were getting on with all our backpacks.
So we turned around and asked when the next one would come. The ladies told us that was the last one, so we said, "Oh well, if we just start walking up the road maybe we can catch a pick up going in the same direction?" The ladies unanimously respond with a firm "No, it's too dangerous, it's after 5:00pm, it will be dark within the hour, the road is not safe, you have to go back to Salema to find a hotel, try again tomorrow during the day." Well, thank-you ladies, I'm glad you are looking out the naïve Gringas.

So we hopped on a chicken bus with standing room only and headed into a city where I'm sure Allie and I were the only tourists and checked into a hotel as there were no hostels around and after eating the most delicious burritos of all time headed to bed around 8:30 after an exhausting day. But just as I turned out the lights a marching band started blasting music right outside our window and continued to march around the block for the next hour, it was so loud and ridiculous that all I could do was laugh and say TIG.

But to be completely honest, I was so happy all day, to be in this country, to be travelling this way with my OG pal. TIG is a part of travelling in Guatemala, I had missed it, it felt good to be back.

Lessons Learned

First Lesson: There are Good Samaratans everywhere in the world
The first day of travel I left my passport in a shop in the Toronto airport. Someone turned it into my gate number and the flight attendant called me over to return it to me. The same day we arrived in Monteverde and did not know where our hostel was, when we asked around at the bus station, a man who runs a different hostel offered to walk with us and show us the way. In Leon, we got lost on our way to the bus station and a man on a bicycle hopped off and walked with us not only to the bus station but the the exact bus that we needed to take. This morning again, in Antigua, someone took time out of their day to walk with me to find a store that would change the phone chip in my card. And in Esteli, when I got really sick with a high fever and did not have the energy to go get food, the guy who ran the hostel offered to go get it for me. I hope that I can show the same amount of kindness to a stranger in need.

Second Lesson: Amazing experiences aren't as amazing without the right people
I went on a Canyon tour in Somoto, Nicaragua. I hiked through fields and around some rocks until jumping into a river surrounded by huge canyon walls and floated downstream. It was beautiful and yet it was missing something, I kept thinking, how fun would this be with all my best friends? The day before I had been on the internet looking at pictures of my friends attending the Color me Rad event in Winnipeg and seeing how much fun they were having together. The thing about my friends is that it doesn't matter what we are doing, whether enjoying some grand adventure, being stranded in a snow storm, or just sitting on the couch in a living room, it always seems exciting and fun because that's how my friends are. Sometimes we think we need a grand adventure to enjoy life but I think that all we need is the right people and all of life feels like a grand adventure. This is my way of saying, even though I get to do some pretty cool things, I still value the time I get to spend with my friends even more, and I miss you guys.  

Third Lesson: Sometimes unmarked taxis are legit

Fourth Lesson: Learning to surf in El Tunco is rather difficult and a beach full of rocks should be your first clue of how the day is going to go.

Fifth Lesson: Sometimes good friends are easy to find
On the five hour shuttle ride from El Tunco to Antigua, three strangers shared conversation the entire way, covering topics of religion, politics, education, relationships, and travel. They found a hostel together, ate supper together, gave each other travel advice, and wished each other well with intentions of finding each other on Facebook. These are the unplanned moments that I love about traveling.

Bienvenidos a Nicaragua

We crossed the border into Leon on the Tica bus and were greeted by men standing outside the border fence waving wads of cash offering to change your colones into cordobas, each one attempts to shout louder than the other every time someone approaches claiming to offer a better rate. Transactions are made through the fence as security looks on, without much interest. I tried to change my currency at an actual bank in Leon and the security guard told me it was not possible and instead directed me toward a random man at the street corner holding wads of cash. Driving through Nicaragua it is common to see vehicles, motorcylces, and horse drawn carts, all sharing the road. And why only have one person on a bicycle when you can fit a whole family on one? Much more efficient way to travel, or just hop in the back of someone's truck for a small fee and the they usually take you wherever you want to go. It's a strange contrast, people walking around with Smart phones and others with ox and cart or sometimes just a man powered cart loaded with firewood.

We are staying at a Hostel run by an organization called Sonati http://www.sonati.org/en/ which is 100% non-profit with all proceeds going to support environmental education in local schools. Environmental education is so important here because the government does not have an efficient garbage or recycling program and therefore people do not know what to do with their garbage aside from throw it on the street. Another problem that we were alerted to while on our hikes was the rate of deforestation. Farmers are clearing the forest to make room for growing crops but at the current rate it is going to destroy the natural habitat, and it causes other problems like landslides because the forest is no longer there to act as a buffer. In a place with so many inactive and active volcanoes, landslides are a big problem and cause a lot of destruction. Sonati aims to educate children in hopes that they will grow up to think differently than their parents and become future leaders in protecting the environment because when we protect the environment we are essentially protecting each other as well. 

We went on two treks with Sonati, one involved climbing up Cerro Negro, Leon's youngest volcano that errupted in 1999. It's so young that it is still black and smouldering at the top with no vegetation yet. That's why it is possible to toboggan down because it's like very rough sand on the one side. So we hiked up one side that felt like climbing up to Moredor and when we got to the top it was so windy and my friend almost got blown right off the volcano! But we saved her, no worries, and put on our jumpsuits, gloves, and goggles and sat down on wooden toboggans and slid down to the bottom, whoo!! I only wiped out twice, which appeared to be the norm, and at the bottom I discovered I was covered in volcanic ash from head to toe, but nothing a little cold shower couldn't fix. 

The next day we hiked up Telica, another active volcano, with two girls from Denmark and a local guide. First we stopped at some natural hot springs, but not the kind that you could swim in, just pits of boiling mud bubbling up from under the ground and steam everywhere which is collected and and transported in pipes to provide energy to the city. Next we hiked, and hiked, and hiked, until it rained and then we found shelter under a Mango tree but not before we were all completely soaked from head to toe. So the rest of the hike was down in soaking wet shoes, and clothes, the clothes were not so bad because they dried fairly quickly afterwards and prior to the rain I was really hot so that part was refreshing. But the shoes, well, on the way back down I discovered that both my heels were raw and bleeding, so I wrapped them up in gauze and continued on. The views were indescribably incredible, and once at the top of the volcano, we could peer into the depths of the crater and see lava flowing at the bottom and listened to the steady flow like that of a fast moving river. The amount of steam rising from the crater is incredible and if the wind picks up it is intensely warm and foul smelling, like sulfur. We watched the sunset as we ate supper, a picnic on top of an active volcano, I didn't even know that was on my bucket list, but I think it should be on everyones now. The way the sun lit up the entire valley before it disappeared for the night, left us all awestruck. There was no way I could take a picture that would capture the perfect beauty of that moment.  

I also cannot properly describe my experiences without mentiong food, so I will only tell you about my new favorite snack, plantains that are fried like crispy chips and served with hot sauce, que rica, so delicious. 

Entonces, me encanta Nicaragua y estoy disfrutando mi tiempo mucho en este pais. 

Pura Vida

Pura Vida is like the motto of Costa Rica which directly translated means pure life. When you ask the question, Como esta, you often get the response, pura vida. I'm not sure that it totally makes sense but I go with it. My Mama Tica or host mom told me that a was una chica pura vida because I was willing to try anything and eat anything and be open to new experiences. I think that was the best compliment I could have received from her, I like the idea of living pura vida.

In my Spanish class there were two guys from California, myself, and the instructor. The classes were really informal which was great because we just had conversations in Spanish and the instructor would correct us when necessary and use teachable moments to help us learn proper grammar, different verb tenses and new vocabulary. We had some great conversations about our personal lives, our views on politics, religion, education, and controversial issues, and stories of our adventures here in Costa Rica. After conversing in Spanish for 4 hours a day we found it hard to think in English afterwards which told us that we were in fact starting to think in Spanish, which is a pretty cool place to be when learning a new language.

So my mornings in Costa Rica consisted of 4 hour Spanish classes followed by an afternoon hike from my house to the hostel were my friend was staying, and I mean hike because Monteverde is a city built in the mountains so if you walk anywhere you are either going uphill or downhill, never straight and it is quite a workout. But the view is so incredible I can't even begin to describe it. Some afternoons were full of adventures like the Canopy Tour Zipline through the Cloud Forest or driving ATVs through mountain trails  or hiking in the backwoods by our Spanish Instructor's house to find this incredible tree with roots and branches that formed a story high bridge over the river or climbing up a Fikus tree that's hollow on the inside with enough twisted branches for one to find foot holes all the way to the top. And some afternoons were spent with my host family, teaching my 15 year old hermana Tica how to play Pink and Adele songs on the piano or playing futbol with my 8 year old hermano Tico in the kitchen with a ball made of yarn so that it did not destroy anything. One night I even went to Zumba with my Mama Tica and hermano Tico. On the way home I told them that Zumba was on Monday nights in my city too. My hermano Tico says, maybe the whole world has Zumba on Monday nights, and I think, maybe it does, because for all the differences that there are around the world, there are lot of things that are the same no matter where you go.

Sunshine, new friends, mountain views, adventures, and Spanish conversations, all in all, a great week in Costa Rica, pura vida.

Momentos (Moments)

Sitting around the t.v. in Monteverde Backpackers hostel watching futbol, Panama vs. Canada, I get hit with a pillow everytime I accidentally say soccer, "No, es futbol!" I start reading the players names on the backs of their shirts and Alonso and Luis laugh at my pronunciation, I'm glad my accent amuses them. They chat away en español and I follow most of the conversation, occasionally contributing, and it feels so comfortable to be here, en Costa Rica, watching futbol, speaking in Spanish.

That evening I went to meet my host family, at first I went to the wrong house because Costa Rica does not have street names or house numbers, for example, my host family's address is "In front of Hotel Manaquin, 2nd house on the left." The taxi driver says, "I think it's this one" so I knock on the door and introduce myself and the guy is friendly and thankfully knows what I am talking about because his wife is a teacher at the school and kindly points me next door, I guess I miscounted, he must have been the third house on the left.

My host mom, Norely, is so friendly. We chat all evening until her family gets home from their day trip to the beach. Sometimes I forget that I am speaking another language because the conversation flows so naturally and other times I stumble through a sentence trying to remember each word and the proper verb tense. But the moments when I forget I am speaking Spanish and I'm simply speaking...those are indescribably incredible, learning another language is like opening yourself up to another world.

The last moment worth blogging about is the moment during the Zip-line Canopy tour when I am standing on the platform about to do the Tarzan swing, essentially they attach you to a long rope, push you off the edge of the platform and you freefall and then swing out above the canopy in the Cloud Forest. In the brief moment, before they opened the gate and pushed me off, I was thinking, why am I paying this guy to push me off a cliff? Which was followed by intense screaming and an adrenaline rush, and then the realization of the beautiful jungle that I am swinging in, like Tarzan, only wearing more clothing and more safely secured to the rope.

Pura Vida.

Why Souvenirs?

I've decided to join the world of blogging as a way to keep in touch while I travel around the world this year. I figure it's an easy way to follow my adventures and remember the stories I will encounter along my journey. I called my blog "Souvenirs" partly because it's from a Switchfoot song that I love, and also because my most meaningful souvenirs are never the little trinkets that you can buy but the moments that you never expected, the experiences you can't really describe, the mental pictures that a camera could never do justice to, and the people that you can share all of that with. I want to share all of that with you even if you can not come with me in person, your encouragement has given me the courage to take flight on this exciting adventure. So stay tuned! First stop, Costa Rica!!