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4th of July, San Mateo style
Well, we didn’t rent out the California bus (which is painted like the American flag) and drive around town blaring patriotic music as we had previously planned, but Chat and I did teach the cuarto students to sing This Land is Your Land in honor of our nation’s birthday. It ended up sounding like a big jarbled stream of Swedish rather than an ode to the beauty of the American terrain, but they had fun anyways. The cuarto students are super sweet but they have the worst accents I’ve ever heard- it’s like they’re not even hearing what’s coming out of my mouth.
Me: Repeat after me- January, February, March.
Cuarto: Hanooaywoo, Ferereray, Mah.
Me: No, listen- Ja-nu-ary
Cuarto: Han-woo-woo-wee?
I think my favorite teaching experience with them was when they asked me how to say “fast” and I spent the next ten minutes listening to them say flaaaaast, flahst?……flaaahhhhst. Oh those kids.
I decked myself out in red, white and blue for segundo english class and gave extra points to kids who were wearing the colors of the flag as well. As I proudly marched into class with the strains of Sousa flowing through my head, it became disturbingly clear that I am very rapidly turning into a middle-aged middle-school teacher in the body of a 23-year-old girl. Next thing you know I’ll be wearing sparkly holiday sweaters and knitting matching ones for all my cats to wear. Anyways…..we had a thrilling 4th of July trivia competition between teams representing England and the Colonies. In one horrifying moment it seemed that team England might actually be victorious, but to my great relief the Colonies pulled through and triumphed in the end, and everything was as it should be according to history.
We spent independence day evening barbequing chicken and setting off firecrackers. Oh sweet revenge- take that San Mateans who rouse us from early morning slumber with your jubilant explosions! Who’s blowing things up now? We even roasted some marshmallows and made s’mores, much to the delight of Chat, who I think ate approximately 17 of them.
So although, I still have a little catch-up to do from my months of blog-neglect, I thought this more recent update might balance out the ancient news I have doling out.
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In accordance with the strict goals we layed out for April, great festivities did indeed ensue in celebration of the auspicious trifecta of birthdays that the month contained. Like my thrilling tales of Easter vacation, this is now very old news, but as a birthday-phile, I think the occasion warrants reporting, despite the fact that it is long since past. Especially since the 23rd anniversary of my birth was such a special and unforgettable day thanks to thoughtful, wonderful friends and students with huge hearts and even huger supplies of energy.
The day started with a morning trip to the market, as every Thursday does for Chat and I. This is a ritual we highly enjoy, as we face a barrage of determined San Mateo women ready to use any means necessary to obtain the last avocado. In our efforts to provide nutritious fruits and vegetables for the Foundation family we risk life and limb as we are chucked into baskets of tomatoes, castigated for not having small bills to pay with, and consistently giggled at as we are bumped and bustled by women half our height and three times our age. It’s a delicious challenge, and well worth it as we stand surrounded by the spoils of our expedition and sip rice drink at the end of the shopping trip. There are several stands that sell a very sweet, milky rice drink at the market, but we are loyal customers at one owned by the family of some of our students and the royal throne of the Rice Queen, who we are convinced brings in tanker trucks of the delicious nectar every morning to meet the demands of the throngs of subjects who come begging for her wares.
So, a particularly nice market trip began my day on April 19th, but if you can believe it, that wasn’t even the best part of the day! I went to school and was besieged by sweet birthday greetings from the kids all day. The casanovas of tercero even stopped throwing desks and notebooks at each other long enough to present me with some wild roses. A chorus of catcalls and whistles commenced when I discovered a ring hidden in one of the roses from Francisco “Romeo” Eleazar. Oh those charmers- is it any wonder Mary Beth fell under the spell of their romanctic enterprises and perfectly-gelled hair?
Brian also commisioned all of Segundo to serenade me with Happy Birthday as I passed their classroom. This was sung in delightfully-accented, but clearly intelligible English and was a very cute surprise. But wait, not even this was the crowning moment of the day!
That afternoon, the long-awaited, highly-anticipated, tri-birthday, all-school fiesta finally came to pass. To celebrate the happy existence of Fernando, Chat and I (all April babies) we brought vast quantities of sugary treats and music up to the primero barn (classroom) where all 150 students were patiently waiting. And by patiently waiting I mean jumping out of their seats every 3 seconds, screaming We Want Cake! The cake was a beautiful pink and white, frosting-rose-covered confection worthy of any 8-year-old’s birthday dreams. It was purchased at Chaz Chaz, the finest (and only) restaurant in town. Sadly, we realized we had not thought to purchase plates or napkins for serving, so as someone ran out to obtain the necessary party supplies, we pacified the restless crowd with cookies, lollipops, sweet bread and watermelon. Finally the napkins arrived, the suprisingly-tasty cake was served all around, and the party was an overwhelming success. Almost…. Despite the conclusion of the commestible portion of the party, all the students were still seated in the tiny desks, looking slightly uncomfortable and awkward. No one was dancing! Another disappointing reminder that it’s like pulling teeth to get kids to dance in public around here. I don’t think it’s a social taboo, because marimba dancing is a big part of the culture. They always claim it’s because they don’t know how to dance, despite my assertions that you can just do whatever you feel like. Unconvinced, they usually try to bully us goofy gringos into getting out there and dancing while they all form a circle around and gawk. On this day however, this awkwardness would not stand, and we finally resorted to grabbing students one by one out onto the floor to dance with us until they squirmed around and we had to rope another one in.
Our party also included a very sweet presentation of gifts and cards from several of the classes, which was unexpected and very generous and really appreciated by all three of us.
The day concluded with a fabulous culinary event a la Brian. After dinner we enjoyed more cake and a viewing of that shining jewel of the Disney collection, “The Little Mermaid”. What more could a 23-year-old girl ask for?
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in a faroff place, known as Lago Atitlan, I spent a magical week of vacation and returned home so enchanted by its spell that I fell into a deep, eternal sleep which thusly prevented me from attending to the sacred duties of internet record-keeping in the form of my blog. It was only in recent days, through a stroke of fantastical luck that a strange Mayan beggar woman presented herself at the door of the Foundation, asking for food and shelter for the night. Just as my tragically unromantic housemates were about to turn her away, she presented a miniature carved jaguar of entrancingly luminous black stone as payment that greatly intrigued the three youths. They invited her in for dinner, and after taking a second look at the small carving, decided it was very shiny, but not all that interesting after all. They decided to store it away in the spare room for safekeeping- which just happened to also be the place where I had lain slumbering all these many long months. As they carelessly tossed the precious amulet onto the bed with my lifeless form, it happened to graze my pale cheek, upon which I immediately sprung from the bed, full of vim and vigor as if I had just enjoyed an afternoon siesta. We then proceeded to have an all-out reggaeton kitchen dance party with the old Mayan crone (who does a pretty mean booty-shake) and we all lived happily ever after and I have returned to my blogging duties.
OK, so maybe it didn’t happen exactly like that. But is it not a touch more scinitillating than reading my apologies once again for being busy and lazy and neglecting to update since April? I do beg a thousand forgivenesses for this, and hope that this is the beginning of a new era.
Atitlan truly was magical and I can’t wait to make a second journey there with the padres when they stop here on their grand central-american tour in August. While in Atitlan for the week, Fer, Brian and I enjoyed beautiful weather, swimming, kayaking, horseback-riding, yummy fish dinners, and an amazing view from the balcony of our hotel room which overlooked the lake. We stayed in San Pedro which is across the lake from the more well-known tourist destination of Panajachel. We got there by crossing the lake in a zooming motor boat, which reminded me of summers on Keuka Lake. San Pedro is a bustling little enclave for hippies and backpackers and so they had a lot of delicious vegetarian and ethnic cuisine in addition to the fabulous fresh fish from the lake. I indulged in sweet mangoes and fresh licuadoes (fruit smoothies made with your choice of fantastic produce) daily, and sometimes even woke up early enough to see the sun rise over the lake. We got to see the Semana Celebrations which included parades of people carrying vast quantities of bananas, construction of posts over the street with flowers and fruits hanging from them and the beautiful alfombras (carpets) that are created on the street from flowers, plants, seeds and pine needles. The week also included a jaunt over to Antigua with Brian to celebrate Passover with a friend of his from Israel…and approximately 200 other Jewish travelers. Brian and Pesach both said it was the strangest Seder meal they had ever been to, and although I have nothing to compare it with, it seemed to be somewhat other than the normal way to celebrate the holiday. It was a great experience nonetheless and something that I was really grateful to be able to share with Brian.
In the end, I was very saddened to leave Atitlan, especially during the arduous journey back to San Mateo that followed. As it was Easter weekend, transportation was very scarce, and after an already long trip I arrived to Huehue to find the bus terminal abandonded. As Huehue is still a 5 hour journey from San Mateo, my mood was less than jubilant as I slumped on a bunch with my huge backpack, desperately hoping a micro would be headed that way. I finally discovered to my great pleasure that I could at least get part of the way there on a micro that was leaving. This was good news, because although I could have stayed in Huehue, I had specifically left a day early from Atitlan so I could be in San Mateo for Easter Sunday. So I took this micro (it’s like a small conversion van) to Santa Eulalia, all the time holding out some small hope that I could miraculously arrive at home sweet home that evening. This hope was briefly dashed upon arriving to our destination when I saw that once again there were no vehicles headed to my destination. I was glumly considering my options when my spark of hope was unexpectedly rekindled into a burning flame as I heard my name being called from across the plaza. I looked up to see an unknown ayudante calling “Jessica” and gesturing for me to come over to his micro. Without a second thought I jogged over to this other micro, thinking “I have absolutely no idea who this guy is, but he somehow knows my name, and right now that’s good enough to convince me to go where he’s going.” This turned out to be a good instinct because as I entered the micro I saw the beautiful shining face of Miss Angela Kirkish, my fellow Foundationer who had colborated with a group of Guatemalans to convince a micro driver to take them to San Mateo. It was glorious. Upon arriving safely back in San Mateo, Angie and I consumed massive amounts of beans and tortillas and went promptly to sleep to await the arrival of the Easter bunny with delicious sugary treats in baskets.
We awoke disappointed to find the Easter bunny didn’t dare traverse the treacherous mountain roads. This feeling was short-lived however, and we went to the centro, where I get ice cream for breakfast in the grand Dryden tradition and then spent a lovely morning at the ruins. We attended the service at the Catholic church, where we were banished to the outside porch seating for our apparent non-Catholisicm (not really- there were just tons of people there and we arrived late.) We also colored Easter eggs with markers and stamps. Later that afternoon and even later that evening we were joyously reunited with Chat and Brian who also somehow managed to make it back to San Mateo despite desperate lack of buses and micros. It was an untraditional but exuberant Easter Sunday for me- one I hope to never forget.
