Rocking that *International* Paradise

“Home” is a special word.  For me, it will always and forever conjure up images of my parents’ house in Wisconsin…the braided run and leather sofa in the living room, the lilac bush in the backyard.  My bedroom that stands as a time capsule of my life, small relics from my travels being added to its shelves as I grow older.  The warm yellow light of the kitchen and the 50s style kitchen table wedged in against the wall.  But as I get older and find myself living in different places, my definition of “home” is also expanding.  For the two years that I lived in Puerto Rico, I called the yellow house in Guayama “home.”  For some reason, I thought that when I moved off of the island, it would stop being home.  But I was wrong. This holiday season, I made a pit-stop (a 4 day pit-stop) in Puerto Rico before coming home to Wisconsin.  And though I didn’t step foot into the yellow house while I was there, it was undeniable that just being on the island, I was “home.”  It felt a bit li

At our school, Noche de Luces (Night of Lights) is the event of the year.  All teachers are required to work at one post or another, and kids and teachers alike talk about how fun the thing is months in advance.  Last Wednesday, I finally got to experience it. Annette and Joel and I arrived just after the doors were opened at 4pm and wandered around before the crowds arrived.  After we'd spent the previous Saturday in one of the poorest communities in the city, Annette commented to me, "It's hard not to see this as a huge waste of money.  But if you don't think about that, it's really pretty fun."  I think that sums it up well.  She's right; this event truly is a big deal.  My jaw kept dropping as we walked about. Our entire basketball/volleyball/four-square court area and the small soccer field were covered with plastic tables and chairs.  There was a stage set up on the east end of the courts and a band was preparing to play.  Ringing the small

I live in a home with three bedrooms.  Three showers.  A walk-in closet.  Five rooms that are completely empty because I don’t know what to do with them.  I literally have more space than I know what to do with. Last Saturday I delivered food to families whose homes are probably no bigger than my bedroom.  Their entire home.  The walls are made of sheets of aluminum or metal signs found in the garbage dump.  Their floors are dirt and rock.  I don’t know whether there is electricity, or running water. photo credit for all photos in this post goes to Annette and Joel I assure you they are not thinking about things like when the gardener can come to cut the lawn, or whether the maid missed a spot while dusting.  We live in different worlds. In the same city. Saturday morning, Annette took a group of our students and teachers to Zone 3 and the neighborhoods that have grown up around the city garbage dump.  For the past few years, before she started working at our

As we floated down the green river on our inner tubes Saturday, basking in the warm sunlight and cheerfully calling out to each other to “Stay in ze middle!!” to avoid hanging branches, I turned to a friend and said, “You know, Semuc Champey yesterday was great, but I think this is really what I’m going to remember from this weekend.  This is so much fun!” I was right.  That trip is what I’ll remember.  But I wish I were wrong.  The beginning of our river tubing expedition was idyllic.  The current kept us moving just quickly enough for our liking, the sun kept us warm, and passing clouds kept us from frying.  The water felt cool and refreshing as opposed to icy and chilling.  We expertly paddled away from hanging obstacles like fallen trees and trailing branches.  We passed over a few baby rapids, yelling “dip!”  “Bigger dip!” as we coasted over the waves made by rocks in the river.  And then at some point, the dips and waves started becoming rapids.  I think I h

To fully experience Semuc Champey, you need an adventurous spirit.  I’d heard a lot about the place from other teachers before 11 of us set off to stay at the National Monument.  A natural limestone bridge over a rushing river forms turquoise blue pools of calm water over the top of the “bridge” and underground, a system of caves stretches nearly 11km.  Semuc Champey is often described as one of the most beautiful places in Guatemala, and I was eager to experience it. Friday morning, we took a tour through our hostel that, for roughly $25US included transportation to the park, lunch, a 1.5 hour tour of the caves, and a guide to see the pool and hike up to the lookout point.  Transportation was standing in the back of a pick-up truck.  I first experienced this Guatemalan form of transportation in September, after rafting.  I loved it then, and despite the fact that it’s certainly not the most secure of ways to travel, I will choose standing behind the cab of a pick-up any d

A while ago, I spent an evening trying to convince one of my best friends to embark on a roadtrip with me next summer, even though, I explained, I realized my original “Summer 2014 plan” had consisted of spending my entire break close to home with family and friends. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” she asked good naturedly.  I’d never thought of it that way, but she’s right.  Not in the physical sense as in sitting in one place to complete a task.  I can do that.  But it’s true that I am happiest when I am busiest.  I like to live my life full.  A calendar with commitments written on each day gives me glee.  I don’t sit at home relaxing by myself often.  I can’t sit still. Last weekend was a prime example of the way I try to do everything. Friday after my work day was done, I entered the school library for my last class in the 2 nd course of my masters program.  (Have I mentioned I’m working on my masters through a program my current school supports?  I will take

When you live in Guatemala City, you hear a lot about “the Lake”—everyone’s favorite place in the country, it seems.  And so, almost 3 months into my stay here, I was looking forward to my first trip to the fabled Lake Atitlan. Last Friday, after the Kite Festival, our caravan of 2 Honda CRVs followed the meandering, sometimes pothole-ridden roads to and around the lake to arrive at our hotel in Santiago Atitlan by mid-afternoon.  After we’d dropped our belongings off at the room, we ventured down to the pool and hot tub, which overlook the lake.  The view was breathtaking.  At 4:30pm, the light glanced off the surrounding volcanos and hit the water in a picture of perfection.  And because the property around Posada de Santiago (where we stayed) is so well-groomed and filled with flowers, sitting in the hot tub we had a sigh-worthy view in 360 degrees.  Saturday morning, Annette, Carrie, Nikki and I hiked up a ridge for a view of Volcan San Pedro and the sur