A Day in Antigua

on 12-14-2008 in Guatemala

On my way out of Guatemala, I decided to spend a day in Antigua, just to see what I had missed by deciding to study Spanish in Quetzaltenango instead.  On the bus ride there, I watched Furia en la Sierra, which turned out to be the (unintentionally) funniest film of all time.  I think part of it must have been shot in Antigua, or somewhere very similar as the opening scenes look like the photo below.  This film is so low budget that they did all their camera pans by driving the cameraman in a car, past the scene very slowly.  You can tell because the camera shakes as they go over the cobblestones.  (Found out after writing this, that it was actually filmed in Mexico in 1991, find it if you can, it’s great).

photography blogs, creative photography, Antigua, Guatemala, Central America

I love this fountain, if you look closely the woman is holding her own breasts.  If you look more closely, it looks like she’s squeezing them and there is a hole in each breast, where water can shoot out.  My favorite part of all this, is that she is the most bored looking women of all time, like yes, here I am, and yes there is stuff shooting out of my breasts, but my shift’s almost over, and my back’s killing me, and if one more tourist takes my picture–aayyaaawwn.  Are you still here?  Didn’t notice.

(Ok you see the close up here. )
photography blogs, creative photography, Antigua, Guatemala, Central America

This is the main square, where everyone sits around looking in their guidebooks.  I think it’s called Lonely Planet Plaza (you might want to refer to Rough Guides for a confirmation on this).
photography blogs, creative photography, Antigua, Guatemala, Central America

Antigua really is charming, but I think the volcano that finds it’s way into all my shots steals the show.  If you forget for a moment where you are, the Volcán de Agua will point you in the right direction.  The photo below is the Santa Catalina Arch, one of the many reasons why Antigua is a World Heritage site.

photography blogs, creative photography, Antigua, Guatemala, Central America

And finally, a little happy accident, as I was checking my settings I snapped this photo off, and caught the traditional skirt of the woman walking ahead of me.  Her daughter skipped ahead and was wearing pencil legged jeans and a t-shirt.  There seems to be three types of dress: traditional, American and the stuff tourists buy.  Haven’t seen any tourists in the traditional skirts, or any locals wearing hemp pants with handwoven inlays.  (Will keep looking).
photography blogs, creative photography, Antigua, Guatemala, Central America

Finding the Words: My Time in Xela

on 12-14-2008 in Guatemala

Where have I been? Just 7,000 ft above sea level.  Living in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala (everyone calls it Xela, which sounds like Sha-La).  With a Guatemalan family. Taking 5 hours of Spanish lessons a day. Which is like finding out that yes, indeed, you really do suck.

Warning:  This post includes geeky Spanish grammer stuff.  Don’t speak Spanish?  Don’t worry, neither do I.  Ok maybe a little.

Guatemala, Central America, Learning Spanish, Spanish Classes, traveling or travelling

Here’s the truth.  Learning Spanish makes me feel like I have a learning disability. I learn everything quickly, but this… this is hard.

I can memorize verbs and vocab. I’ve even gotten better at understanding my host mom. But for everything I know, there are huge gaps. I struggle for words that should be easy. How do I say, “I was going to do something, but didn’t”? Do I use iba + a + inf and add a pero, no at the end? What’s the word for table leg or street curb or street sign for that matter? I don’t have enough adjectives, and the ones I have seem to mean something other than the straight translation from my dictionary. Alegre is happy, but it seems to mean pleasant. Bonita is pretty, but I use it too much. Should I use bien or bueno (or buen for that matter)? If someone wishes you a nice day, should I say adios or buenos dias or iqualmente or y usted? Does it matter? Can I use tu with someone I just met that’s younger than me? Should I kiss someone on the cheek the first time I meet them?  What if it’s a guy?

And movies. Dear lord. If you want to test yourself, watch a film in Spanish without subtitles. Everyone knows I’m learning here… I am with a family associated with the school. They speak slower. They search for vocab that after 10 years of hosting students, they’re pretty sure I know. But the movies don’t care about that. In the movies, they speak quickly, use slang and expressions, and if I’m lucky I pick up 25% of it.

I watched Diaras de Motociclatas and until the end, I didn’t realize that they were experts in Leprosy. Figuring that out in the closing credits changed everything.

But I’m happy. I am ridiculously happy and I love it here.

Guatemala, Central America, Learning Spanish, Spanish Classes, traveling or travelling

It’s also fustrating and it makes me want to quit learning Spanish. That’s how you know you’re really learning… when it becomes so impossible that you secretly wonder if you could just give up on trying to become fluent.

But everyday I learn 5 new words. Really and truly learn and understand them. I become familiar with dozens more. I’m exposed to hundreds. It’s frustrating because I know more than I can speak. In the moment I throw out incorrect conjugations. I use saber instead of conocer or estar instead of ser. Sometimes I just say the infinitive just to get the point across. People aren’t going to wait while I wilt under the gun.

And the city. It’s not traditionally pretty. From the roof of my school, I can see the entire city, but it’s a sprawl of single story buildings. Up close, it can be messy or dirty and in areas just plain lovely. But the gestalt of it is beautiful. It’s difficult to capture in a photo. But I love the way the homes are built around an internal courtyard that serves as a garden or meeting place. I love the street markets with dangerous looking fruit. I’m charmed by the culture shifts. An indigenous woman walks in her traditional wrapped skirt and ribbon braid through her hair with a basket balanced on her head. Her daughter walks with her wearing and Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt and pencil leg jeans.

Here I’m a gringo. It’s not as bad as it sounds. A secretary at the language school asked me what the word in English is for gringo. What do we call ourselves, these gringos. The implication being that gringo is the word for foreigner or American or white. I tried to explain, no… but she wasn’t quite satisfied. Gringo is the word for the people who flood this city every summer, and yeah, maybe that sounds bad, but that’s what we are. Foreigners.

So I’m learning. I’m growing a part of my brain that wasn’t there before, and as I do it, I become aware of this other way of thinking. Talking to my host mom for an hour over dinner, the Spanish floods over me and I stop thinking about what verb or how she ended it or what each words mean. I just understand and I have no idea how, because I’m not doing anything. And when I try to find a word, I look away, searching in this new part of my mind, and sometimes things pop out and I don’t know why, but they’re right. Oh crap, didn’t mean to say that. Oh right, that’s correct.

In two more weeks I’ll be leaving, and I wont be fluent. I cant even measure how much I’ve learned, because from my side I still have the same amount of struggles, maybe it’s just with different things

It’s been good. Hard. A great way to spend December. It makes me rethink alot of things. The only regret I have is: Damn. I wish I had done this earlier. Language immersion is absolutely amazing.

Crossing the Border, Guatemala Style

on 12-14-2008 in Guatemala

Guatemala, Mexico, Border, Central America, travel around the world

Crossing the Guatemalan border from Mexico was chaotic, scrambled and the perfect transition to my new Spanish-only world.

The driver picked me up at 7:30 AM and 3 hours later dropped me off at the Mexican side of the border. One of the passengers spent 5 minutes screaming in Spanish at the driver. You’re an idiot! This is so stupid! No YOU Shut up!

Hmmm. This can’t be good. Are we supposed to walk through? Is this guy mad because he knows something or because he’s an idiot? The best solution? Just start walking.

The border itself is just a small road with a few buildings. On the side of the road, some folks are burning trash, others are selling food, and dozens of make-shift stalls with everything from kitchen-ware to crocs to woolen ponchos.

I hustled past, hand my passport over to the official. Stamped. Climb onto another van, this time on the Guatemala side.

Three hours later, I’m dropped off at a gas station where little boys are wrestling in between trying to sell shoe shines. No, my sneakers don’t need a shine, thank you. The angry guy gets some french fries and feeds them to stray dogs. I’m ushered to a late model Chrylser and told that “this guy” was going to drive me the rest of the way.

Ok.

I had understood every word of Spanish that the tour operator who sold me the $27 ticket to Xela had said to me. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask if I was going to be riding in some sketchy car for part of the trip. And I’m quite certain he hadn’t described the trip this way: We will drive you to the border, you will find your way through, and hopefully get into the right van on the other side. Don’t worry there will lots of them and no one will speak English. Then we’ll drop you off in some gas station and my cousin will drive you in his dad’s car the rest of the way. Sound good? Great, 350 pesos please.

It was a great introduction into what I would later learn of life in Guatemala. Figuring things out in Spanish (a very good thing) and the laid back way things are run (my first day at the school, I showed up as scheduled at 8 AM, only to wait 20 minutes for someone else to show up) and the immense amount of trust you end up placing in those around you (from living with a family you just met, to hoping that the ice really was made from boiled water).

You have to be cautious too. You can get robbed. You can get hit by a car. You can get swindled. (Oh and that car bit—so serious, the drivers here will mow you over, if you walk in the street). But if you can’t take a few chances, trust a few strangers, then truly you’ll never get over the border.