Rocking that *International* Paradise

It’s funny how easy it is to get used to things that at first seem foreign.  I’m finding that there are a lot of things I’ve gotten used to in my first 3 months in Guatemala. I’ve gotten used to drinking water out of a 5 gallon dispenser, putting the empty jug in my driveway to have it refilled periodically, and tipping the full jug back into the dispenser  on my own. I’ve gotten used to the fact that I shouldn’t really walk at night—anywhere—alone or with friends. I’ve gotten used to guards.  Lots of them.  I’m used to saying good morning to the 5-7 guards I regularly see on my walk to school.  One guard opens the gate at the back of my compound for me with a smile.  Two or three more patrol the parking lot I walk through (my favorite in the parking lot is only there sometimes, but he always gives me a big smile and says, “Hola Miss.  Buenos dias!”).  Two act as crossing guards as cars pull out of the parking lot.  And the two at the top of the hill give me a high five ea

our home for the weekend  There’s something completely pure about the way we spent this past weekend.  I feel like each of us took joy in each simple moment we encountered, and we lived each of those moments to the fullest.  Whether we were running into the ocean fully clothed in our exuberance or swinging slowly in a hammock under the afternoon sun, we were fully present in each second.   Five of us passed the weekend at a beach house in Iztapa, Guatemala this time.  We left straight from school on Friday at 3:00pm, picked up by Eddie, our private driver and host for the weekend.  Before leaving the city, we picked up William as well, our other guide and chef.  Traffic was, of course, horrendous at rush hour on Friday night, so it was 7pm before we reached the tiny town of Iztapa.  We pulled up to the dock and unloaded our van in darkness.  From there we boarded a small lancha (boat) and floated slowly down the river to our dock for the weekend.  After finding our be

About a month ago, I heard about a 10K trail race in October here in Guatemala, and I thought to myself, “I should sign up.  It will give me something to train for and help me get back into a running routine.”  Three weeks later, it was time to actually sign up for the race, and though I’d done some running, I definitely hadn’t trained. And then Amy decided we should sign up not only for the 10K on the 6 th , but also the 16K on the 13 th .  And I shrugged and agreed.  Last week’s race was difficult.  The uphill stretches winded me, and there was a point I felt it was the hardest race I’d ever run.  I finished it much slower than any of my previous 10K times.  (And yet, somehow I ended up taking 4 th place in women’s overall rankings?)  It made me feel a little better to discover after the race that our “10K” had actually been closer to 12 kilometers, putting my pace closer to a normal training run rate, and coupled with the fact that I was running at elevation and hadn’t tra

“Mr. O’Neill!  Mr. O’Neill!  It’s raining!!  Come look!” It seemed like a pretty obvious statement.  It had been pouring when I’d escorted my 5 th period class to the library, walking single-file in the center of the covered walkways to avoid puddles and raindrops, and the rain had continued the entire class. But Ana Alicia didn’t mean it was raining outside .  She meant it was now raining inside .  She stood a few feet from the wall, looking up, and sure enough, fine droplets of water were somehow making their way through the ceiling to filter down into the room.  Two computers were right there, so the girls working on them shut them down and moved away from the wetness.  That wasn’t the worst of our problems, though.  As I started telling kids to save their work and shut down their computers, Mr. O’Neill came over to me to inform me he wasn’t sure we’d be able to leave.  Sure enough, a quick glance out the window confirmed that the sidewalk was now a 6” deep river of br

From the moment my ride picked me up and I heard the sounds of Reggaeton coming from the pickup truck’s speakers, I knew it’d be a good weekend.  I was riding to the beach with Amy and her friend Chris, and we were meeting 7 other CAG folks at a beach house.  When Chris picked us up, he informed us we were going to take a back way to the beach, avoiding most of the city and taking the ferry.  It was definitely the way I would always choose to travel in a country as beautiful as Guatemala.  We enjoyed pretty good roads for the entire drive, and took in some beautiful countryside.  You know you're in the Guatemalan countryside when you come around the corner and see this. The ferry was the first part of the weekend’s adventure.  “How often do the ferries leave?  Are we going to have to wait for one?” Amy asked. Chris smirked.  “It’s not that kind of ferry.  Just wait,” he said. “How many cars fit on it?” she asked. “Two,” he answered.  And then, after a b