Toto, I don't think we're in Upstate NY anymore

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.