a time of transition...

I'm in the midst of transition. 
I'm in Guatemala, but in Antigua so we're practically in Spain/USA. 
I'm with people from home (my parents), but still surrounded by strangers.
I'm speaking English, but also still can hear Spanish. 
I'm doing the activities of a tourist but my heart still calls this place home.
I can shower for as long as I want and with hot, running water but it is still water that I cannot drink.
I miss my Guatemalan students and families and keep thinking that I'm going to go back, but my heart is slowly coming to terms with the truth...  I can't.
And although I can't see them, I can still call them on my Guatemalan cell phone, so that makes life livable.
I'm writing swim work outs, planning calendars, and preparing to begin work in 10 days at Whitman, and I'm also sitting at our condo's pool and talking to shoeshine boys in Parque.

I can walk through the supermarket or the mercado, choose from chicken in a fridge or chicken in the open air, and am hearing horror stories of how there are 18 varieties of Oreos to choose from in the grocery stores in the States (Thanks, Juli)

It's a good time for transition... I'm glad I'm here.  I don't think I'd choose to do it any other way.
I just don't like doing it.

I don't like change.

Walla Walla, Gig Harbor, and the rest of the USA - I'm excited to see you, but it really is hard to let Guatemala go.

wisdom in unexpected places

i creepily went into the bathroom at my favorite cafe the other day to take a picture of this...  

life motto right here.

So many ways to say goodbye

Spanish, as in English, has many words for goodbye.

The little girls' goodbye... "We like you, Cat!"

There is the ever popular, “hasta la vista, baby” – not actually used, and I’m not actually a fan. 

 

There is “adios” – simply, goodbye.  Nothing else.  In this situation of saying goodbye to students who are on the brink of making decisions that will change their lives for good or for bad, “adios” is painful.  I don’t want to say that.

There is “hasta (insert time here – “manana”, “en la tarde”,etc)”- I can’t actually use that one in this case because my life has too many question marks to be specific. 

There is “hasta luego” – which means “see you later”.  I guess that one works, but seriously… when I live with abuelos who are old and have failing health or in a developing country that doesn’t have much police presence and my students live in bad, dangerous situations, I don’t want to use that.  “Luego” is too broad, too long, too much can change between now and then.  Too much will change between now and then.

Then, there is “hasta pronto” – “see you soon”.  That’s been my phrase of preference.  I don’t know when “soon” is, but I hope it’s sooner than “luego”.  I hope it’s in June or July when things slow down at Whitman and I’ll (Primero Dios) be able to return to visit my friends for a short time.  I hope that not too much will change, although it is inevitable that some things will. I hope that when I return in a time “pronto”, I will still be the person I have become here in Guatemala and that person will continue to love life, no matter the hardships or joys it brings.  I hope I still remember Spanish so I can talk to all these people I love once again.  I hope that my students have taken care of themselves and that those around them respect them, their bodies, their health, their personality, and their safety.  I can’t wait for “pronto” to come. 

Notes and letters are definitely my favorite way of giving and receiving love, and that has been hard for me here. But, I am now going home with at least 300 little notes from host sisters and students, and I can finally understand what they say.  More importantly, I was finally able to write notes to all the teachers and my friends here who I love and respect, and (hopefully) tell them how much I love and respect them. 

And in every note I signed, “Hasta Pronto”.  Goodbye, but not forever.

And, it’s also a hello…

As I look to next Thursday when my parents come, “Hasta Pronto”

As I look to August 14-16 and 20-22 when I’m in Gig Harbor, “Hasta Pronto”

As I look to August 17 when I start work at Whitman in Student Activities, “Hasta Pronto”

As I look at August 22 when the Wa-Hi girls start practicing, “Hasta Pronto (and start getting in shape now!)

Hasta Pronto, Guatemala…. “Ustedes se robaron mi corazón”

Hasta Pronto, USA…. “I’m excited to see what’s around the corner.”

what have you learned?

My facebook status summary of 4+ pages of processing...
  

este noche, durante la cena, el abuelo me preguntó que aprendí durante mi tiempo en Guatemala.  Cultura, idioma, un montón de curiosidades al azar , y lo más importante, como amar y aceptar el amor en cambio.  No me di cuenta de lo cierto que era hasta que me empezó a decir adiós a todos mis amigos ... siendo muchos amado y amar duele, pero es tan increíblemente la pena.

tonight at dinner, the abuelo asked me what i had learned in Guatemala. Culture, language, lots of random trivia, and most importantly, how to love and accept love in return. i didn't realize how true that was until i started saying all my goodbyes... being loved and loving lots hurts, but it's so incredibly worth it.

Lessons from tears...

Why are we so afraid of emotions?

I have never been one to cry… it’s just not something I have been accustomed to doing.  It’s not that I think it’s weird or weak; in fact, I am often jealous of the people who can cry.  And I have come to respect them and admire them and want to be more like them.

Over the past week, I have seen my host mom cry every day.  Monday, it was during lunch when a good friend studying in Cuba came to eat with us.  He, his brother, and Porfi are amazingly close friends and when they’re together, they are hilarious (even to me who understands about 25% of their jokes).  They’re so funny that they would get Elly crying; tears streaming down her face.  Then, she would take off her glasses, wipe her eyes, and just as she almost had herself composed, they would say something and we’d be back to square one of tears streaming down her face.  It was amazing and authentic: a woman from a closed, indigenous community crying freely not because she is sad but solely because she loves life and has so much happiness that it has no way to express itself other than through tears.  Beautiful.

Then we had Tuesday.  I was brushing my teeth at night, admiring the lightning behind the mountains separating us from the warm (wet) coastal area when I looked up and saw gorgeous stars.  I ran to the kitchen door jumping up and down and pointing up (still with my toothbrush).  “Night, night” Elly said… but that wasn’t the point.  Finally, after a lot of pantomiming, I finally ran to the Pila to take my toothbrush out and said, “Mira!  Estrellas!”  She came out excitedly and by the time I had turned around from washing my face, she was lying down in the middle of our patio (which is shared with the duck, chickens, dog, cats, and whatever else comes our way… aka not clean), starring at the stars.  I joined her and as we laid there, watching the stars, we talked about how small we are in comparison to God, the earth’s rotation, and constellations.  She said, “I don’t know any constellations, I just enjoy the stars” and I said, “Oh!  I know some!  Umm…(as I looked around through the sky frantically searching for the big dipper) just not any here”  Elly burst into laughter and as we laid on the cold pavement under the magnificent stars, she once again had tears running down her face. Tears of sadness that our time together is coming to a close, and tears of laughter. 

Then, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, her tears were of sadness and being overwhelmed, but she wasn’t afraid to show that emotion as well.  First, there was some very painful family drama.  Then, a cousin who was like a brother died of a heart attack at age 37 and we were in charge of the services (that post is to come…my inside look at funerals was fascinating). We had some amazing talks through it and she opened up and cried when we talked in the restaurant where she is the cook, in our internet café, at the dinner table, on the bus, everywhere.  She freely expressed herself, which during a week like the one we had, is the healthiest thing that she could do. 

One of the greatest girls ever...

The last few days, I have learned to cry too.  Watching my host mom, who I now call “Mama” and she calls me her “hija” show emotions and express herself has given me permission to love, show emotions, and express what I feel as well.  I teared up saying goodbye to each of my three host families in Xela.  I had tears streaming down my face as students came up to me with tears streaming down theirs, holding a card that they had made.  I am choking up now as I write this.  

I am allowed to cry because those around me have given me permission and shown me how it’s done.  This year, I have cried from laughter after our students do something super funny or almost every night at the dinner table here.  I have cried in front of people as I have left them.  I have cried with people in their pain.  I can cry because tears show love.  Love for one another, love for self expression, and love for life.  

I am so grateful for my lessons.  So grateful for this year.  So grateful for life.  So grateful for tears.

Simply grateful.