about that last post

I'm pretty tired of blogger. I know that the last post is almost impossible to read. We've tried about 6 times to change the formatting and spacing, but blogger keeps changing it back to one huge paragraph. So sorry about that...

part one of three: things we are...

So, first things first, we're in Guatemala city, boarding a plane for the USA in a few hours. See you soon... Anyways, this is the first installment of a series we have been contemplating for the last few weeks as we prepare to leave Guatemala. Below is our first list, with items in no particular order. Things We Are NOT Going to Miss -The neighbor rooster and his duck friends. These animals are in such poor shape that sometimes it's hard to hate them... but, damn. They're so smelly and so loud- all the time. I'm looking forward to setting my own alarm. -Getting upcharged. The main reason for this is because I'm white. It is the nature of a culture who competes in a market for foreigner's money to assume that every white person has a lot of money and can be coaxed, forced or exacerbated in to exchanging money for something or just handing it out. And while I don't mind paying for goods and services, I've been here long enough to know money discrimination. On the upside, I've honed my haggling and bargaining skills, which hopefully will be beneficial in the future. But I am really sick of being asked to pay more for something when I know what the locals are paying for the same thing. *The lack of price tags on anything makes this system, not only possible but entirely cyclical. More about that in part three... -General chinga. We've talked a lot about this already. And the kicker is: just when you think you've gotten used to being fucked over and have lowered your expectations as such, they surprise you with another setback. Ejemplo: Our shuttle ride to the city was just going too well. We were promised a privado and directo, and ended up being jammed pack (likely over capacity) in the bus; then got stuck in traffic for an hour in Antigua (where we made an-out-of-the-way stop). Then, to top it off, Kevin called our hotel to tell them we would be late, and they told him that they gave our reservation to someone else AND moved us to another hotel. Somehow it works out, but just so you get the idea... -The basic assumption that I'm a tourist. Again, this is another example of us hating our white priveledge. But the owner of Hotel San Francisco in San Pedro continues to ask me every single time I walk by whether I want a hotel room. Not all gringos are fresh off the boat from Panajachel. For the 57th time, the answer is no. Same thing goes for travel agents asking if I want to take a coffee tour. This is even worse because most of the time they take the tourists to FEDEPMA, and I'm the person that gives the tour. -The machismo attitude. This bothers Stacy a lot more than it bothers me. In a small way, I don't mind, because compared to the guys saying "Hola chiiiicaaa," I actually look like a gentleman. -Being yelled at in English, for a joke. Just because you know how to say "hello," "thank you," and "what's up?" doesn't make it funny to yell it in your most obnoxious, terribly accented voice when you drive by in a tuk-tuk. This is the same reason I do not yell "ARIGATO!!!" every time I see someone who looks Japanese. -Washing clothes by hand. This is not about laziness. It is hard on your skin, hard on your clothes and really hard on your back. Sometimes I don't mind being outside, but I'm pretty tired of washing for hours, waiting days for clothes to dry only to find out they're not that clean... It is partly about laziness. It takes hours. The washing machine takes a while, too, but I don't have to be there the whole time, and my back doesn't hurt afterwards. Plus, machine-dried clothes don't have the consistency of cardboard. -Reggaeton. It's the worst in the morning. But imagine hearing it all day and night. In tuk tuks and stores and restaurants... -Putting tp in the trash can. Guatemala 101: you cannot put anything other than excrement into a toilet. Ever. The sewage system all over the country is just not capable of dealing with paper. Thus, all bathrooms are smelly. Like really smelly. And most public ones don't bother to take the trash out often. As a result of paper staying in the can, most of the toilet paper sold is con aroma, which means it's scented. Good for bathrooms, bad for noses. It's suffocating to blow your nose with scented tp. Needless to say, I can't wait to flush. -The fucking tassles. Both of our blankets have tassles at the top. Sometimes they get in your ear, nose, mouth. An unpleasant way to wake up. -Our suicide shower. Morning cleanliness, with a side of electric shock. Most showers in Latin America are heated with an electric current at the faucet. To make things worse, the water's only hot in increments of 20 seconds or so. -Stacy's starlted/scared noise. It's the same goddamn sound whether it's a scorpion or a mosquito, or if I happen to spill a single drop of water on the table. It's the type of startled gasp that's really only befitting of the rare instance when you see an axe murderer in the window. Every time I hear it my heart rate jumps about 70 bpm, because it really does sound like I should be worried or scared, and it's rarely worth the excitement. Point taken. However, in my defense, I can't help it. (Yes, that's my defense.) It's a reflex reaction, and I get it from my mother. And further more, Kevin may not miss this about being in Guatemala, but I'm afraid it's something that travels with me... -The nightly moth (and spider) killing ritual. I don't like bugs. So there. I spy, Kevin strikes. As noted in the previous item, he is not a fan of this ritual because it usually begins with 'startled/scared noise. And I am aware that moths and spiders and mosquitos are not exempt from anywhere, I'll be glad to sleep in a shelter that doesn't have holes in the structure and roof. -Being asked how much our things cost. Really, talking about how much things I own cost just makes me uncomfortable in almost only situation. Add on top of that we're in Guatemala. When we first got down here, I was a bit worried that the people asking were thinking about robbing us when they asked, for example, how much my bike costs. Even after I got over that, it's just a reality that things in the US cost a lot more than they do in Guate, and I felt almost guilty saying that my rain jacket costs $XX, when $XX might be more than some Guatemalans makein a week. So, when asked, both of us took it upon ourselves to not answer the question.

Volunteering with Canal Cultural

Teaching yoga in San Pedro has been awesome, but I wanted to find something more and also a chance to practice my Spanish. I've been so fortunate to work with a local art collective, Canal Cultural since we returned in January. I have really fallen in love with the artists, their work and the kids they teach.

Behold, los hombres y artistas:

Luis Yat

José Chavajay

Manuel Chavajay Moralez y su hija, Luna

René Dionisio

In addition to just hanging out, I volunteered with their first public project of the year: Taller de Niños (kids workshop), where every Saturday local kids can come to learn or just draw. Other goals were:
-give them a place and materials to create art

-teach techniques in drawing, painting and geometry

-assess different talents and interests of each child and encourage them

-create awareness in San Pedro of Canal Cultural as an art collective

-showcase the artists work as an open gallery to draw attention to passersby

Although there is a general lack of structure in the carrying out of the workshops (la manera Chapina), I think these goals were good and, for the most part, achieved. The older kids actually got some face time with Rene, who is an incredible artist with a lot of great technical skills. Hopefully he inspired some curiosity or interest in drawing so they will keep it up. Additionally, giving attention to older kids in San Pedro is more beneficial than to the young ones. When kids here finish high school, they have very few options.

If the family can afford it (and they don't already have a baby to support- this is rare) they might go to Xela or the city to continue their education. More often, though, they stay in town. Boys drive tuk tuks or sell drugs and girls stay at home and help their mothers make food and sell it. And if you already have a baby, then the boys start building a house on a plot of their parents' land for their new family, sometimes as young as 17 or 18. This should be taken as a general assumption. I've seen it in action many times, but as an extranjera I also know many families who are well-off and can educate their kids or support them to travel and pursue a passion. (And the kids will be taken care of while they're gone by the other 20 members of the family.)

So encouraging artistic talents of the 13-17 year-olds is really productive. And while it's great to have foreign volunteers to play with the little kids, it is so rewarding to see the kids' admiration for these artists- their hip local heros. The only unfortunate thing is that the outreach to different kids hasn't been that great, in part because there are sometimes not enough adults, supplies and space for 20+ kids. Hopefully with time, this program can grow and spread to different parts of town.

[Note: the majoirity of the kids that have consistently participated are, in some form, related to the artists... again, this is la manera Chapina. Everyone here is related and it's just easier to be around family.]

I have done a lot of other work with these artists over the last two months, spending at least 15 -20 hours a week there. They recently applied for a travel grant to visit another art collective, Grupo Sotz'il, and work together on a theater presentation for Festival Atitlan in 2012. I helped translate and edit the application, and I hope they get the grant because they deserve it- not because I helped.

My friend Sara and I have also been teaching two of the artists English. (Because if you can speak it you can teach it, right?) During these classes, I've become increasingly more anal retentive with my grammar (journalism nostalgia), but also more aware of the subtle nuances of the language when it is spoken in different parts of the country. Sara is from Boston but has spent a lot of her life in the San Juan Islands outside of Washington state. Needless to say, we speak English differently.

We've had a good time, and I think they've learned something... They are around English speakers a lot so any background of the language is better than nothing. And we've learned some Tzutujil, so it's been a win-win.

I've also done some work (mostly profiles and brainstorming) for their upcoming (who the hell knows) website. I think it's been under construction for about six months... Yeah. Most of the pages and links are in place, and ideally, the whole site would be in English and Spanish. That's something I'd like to continue working with after I leave because it could be so great for the collective and San Pedro. But who knows?

There are a lot of little frustrations that I'm ready to leave behind in Guatemala, but I will really miss this space and these people. They have become like family (literally, we've celebrated weddings and birthdays, made tons of tamales and cake and shared life stories). Guatemalans have an innate generosity and hospitality that reminds me of the south. It's just usually harder to appreciate when you're a foreigner. So I'm thankful for this time invested to get to know these guys. I also hope to bring back some of their work- tshirts, fajas (women's belts), posters or something... but keep your fingers crossed that anything will be finished in time... 'Tis la manera Chapina.

An & David with all the babies- this awesome couple came to my yoga class and mentioned an interest in volunteering. So I introduced them to Canal Cultural and they ended up setting up their own weekly taller. Success.

creating a underwater world with potato stamps

crown decorating on An & David's last day

potato stamps

An & Manuelito stamping

paintings by the collective from a series about the Rio Negro Massacre

cement carvings by Manuel. color by los chiquitos

Luis and Ingrid surveying the goings on


Maria Fernanda learning to write her name

René teaching geometric shapes

no se que estan haciendo aca... but bottoms up!

brothers and good photographers

(ironically and sadly, these boys stopped coming to the taller after the first saturday and began working at my yoga studio cleaning and repairing the walls... guess they couldn't afford the time off to draw :(

circles and color

las obras de Canal Cultural

one of Manuel's most famed pieces. they made the design into a tshirt. the Tz'utujil mother earth.

Huehuetenango, and ruins rebuilt by the United Fruit Company

Since coming back to Guatemala in January, we haven't done a lot of traveling. This is in large part because taking the chicken bus in Guatemala can be a stressful experience (I think it's safe to say that Stacy finds it more stressful than I do), and since we're stretching a budget, paying for more expensive tourist transportation can add up pretty quickly. Also, Stacy and I aren't really on the same schedule. Sunday is really the only day off we have together, and one day isn't really enough to travel, at least not in a pleasant fashion.

But, I recently got the itch to see a bit more before we leave, and last week I decided that I had to see Huehuetenango, with or without Stacy. There are still a lot of things missing for the next time I come to Guatemala (Rio Dulce, el Quiche, Monterricco...), but Huehue seemed like a relatively easy trip. So last Friday morning I got up at 5:45, caught the 6:30 chicken bus to Cuatro Caminos, and spent the next 5 hours with my knees slammed against the back of a schoolbus seat.

Downtown Huehue.

I also had no real plan, besides the desire to see how coffee is different in Huehuetenango (my lack of planning may be a major reason for why Stacy doesn't like traveling in this country). Huehuetenango is well known in specialty coffee as one of the world's premier coffee growing regions, and is a much better-known region than Atitlan. I wanted to see a finca, but since I had no luck actually getting in touch with anyone before leaving San Pedro, I ended up just arriving in Huehue and walking into the regional office of the national coffee federation -Anacafe.

This didn't work out exactly like I wanted to, but still was a pretty cool experience. Huehuetenango isn't as much of a tourist mecca as Atitlan, so coffee growers aren't as accustomed to visitors. Also, it so happens that most of the main fincas are about 3 hours outside of the city, and since I arrived Friday, and left Saturday (kinda a blitzkrieg trip), that wasn't really an option.

Nonetheless, the Huehue staff at Anacafe were super helpful, and put me in touch with Jorge Villatoro Gomez, a partial owner of two premier fincas (Miravalle and Montecristo) and the owner of a and roasting company called Kaffa. Jorge took me out to his warehouse, we talked a bit about what separates the best coffee from the just pretty good coffee, and then we cupped two samples of new coffees at the Kaffa warehouse. I am an idiot, and only took two pictures of the whole experience, none with Jorge. Here's the cupping setup.

Moo.

Also, even though I didn't find the place until just before I left, I also stumbled into a great cafe called Cafe Museo. That's the Coffee Museum, which might be in my top 5 business names of all time.

Francisco and Margarita at the Museo.

Cafe Museo is not just a pretentious reference to decent coffee. The cafe also roasts its coffee in-house, and dedicates its wall space to info about the bean.

3 pound batches.

and posters

Besides coffee, I also saw some sites. One, the Mirador de los Cuchumatanes, was amazing. But that will have to wait for another entry, because this one is already getting too long.

The other site was, well, strange...Zacaleu is an old Mam Mayan fortress that lies outside of Huehue that fell to the Spanish conquistadores in 1524, I think. In 1949, the United Fruit Company decided to restore the ruins. I can only assume that this was a gesture meant to apologize for half a century of exploiting Guatemalan labor and destroying Mayan culture.

Problem is, United Fruit took upon their symbolic restoration with their typical respect for local customs and tradition. They rebuilt the pyramids with poured concrete.

United Fruit executive #1: "Maybe if we give something back to the Guatemalan people, the government will forget all of the terrible things we've done and won't expropriate our lands in the upcoming agrarian reform. I propose that we restore the Zacaleu ruins."

United Fruit exec. #2: "Excellent idea. Should I hire a team of archeologists to preserve the historical accuracy."

Exec. #1: "Good thought, but I think not. With modern construction techniques we can respect Mayan culture and bring Guatemala into the 21st century, all at the same time! Poured concrete, hooray!"

United Fruit also didn't really take the time to create accompanying info for the ruin site. So besides knowing that this pyramid is made of concrete, I have no idea what purpose it served.

Historically accurate steps.

United Fruit had nothing to do with these trees or the sky. And they were amazing.

Mayan ballcourt. Honestly, it was pretty cool to see this reconstructed.

Mayan ballgame, as depicted in the Zacaleu museum. Note the complete lack of captions/descriptive writing.

View from the top of the concrete pyramid. Don't quote me on this, but I can only assume that this bowl-shaped thing had something to do with human sacrifice.


Okay, also admittedly pretty cool.

One thing that United Fruit did do successfully was provide a great place for young Guatemalan couples to display their affection publicly, and for middle aged Guatemalan men to nap. I assume this has something to do with the cheap cost of entry for Guatemalan citizens (literally 1/10 of what I paid), but the ruins were literally teaming with teenagers making out and older men laying down. Not exactly what I was expecting, nor what I wanted to see, but pretty hilarious.

time for your closeup.

I'm going to try to write another post on the Cuchumatanes before we leave Guatemala, but for now, just wanted to close with a few pics from a student demonstration in central Huehuetenango.

Just to make things more badass, the lead singer from the Insane Clown Posse decided to show up and smoke a cigarrette. Totally rad.

Cupping (more underqualified instruction at FEDEPMA)

A while ago, we taught a coffee preparation (barista, sort of) course at FEDEPMA. The goal was always to follow up the black coffee and espresso training with a cupping, which is basically a wine tasting, but for coffee. Last Thursday, we finally had the chance to lead FEDEPMA's first cupping.

Even though I'm writing this entry, Stacy deserves most of the credit for the cupping, and most photos that don't include her are hers too, save for the notably bad shots. Trust me, you'll see what I mean when you get to the second pic. Also, our friend Judith deserves a big thanks for sending cupping docs and suggestions from DC...

The cupping table at FEDEPMA.

For non-geeks, cupping is a great way to learn how to describe the flavors and other characteristics of coffee, and it's particularly helpful for someone preparing coffee in a coffeeshop or selling the beans to tourists. If you can say something more about a coffee besides that it tastes good, you can have greater confidence talking to customers. So one of the thoughts behind the cupping was that it will help FEDEPMA employees speak to tourists and future customers at their cafe (still not built).

More importantly, though, cupping can serve as a means of quality control. If a farmer or head of a processing facility cups frequently, he can notice changes in the quality of his beans, and if he or she finds a defect, he can search for the cause, and try to correct it. Hopefully, Pedro and the other coffee employees at FEDEPMA will keep cupping, and it will help them grow and process better, more consistent coffee.

Anyways, this is how we did it, photo essay style:

Figuring out the process

There's more than one way to cup a coffee. Professional cuppers score coffee on a scale of 1-100, and use a very detailed form to evaluate the coffee. The FEDEPMA employees are not professional cuppers, and neither are we. This weekend marks the first time that I needed more than one hand to count the number of times I've cupped coffee.

Stacy set about making our own, simplified cupping form, that would be a bit more useful for FEDEPMA. I helped a bit with the Spanish. As with the espresso and black coffee course, figuring out the best way to translate colloquial coffee talk was at times a bit challenging.

The FEDEPMA cupping form. Why didn't I just take a screenshot? Because that would have been the smart thing to do.

We were also a bit limited by our equipment, and went about a not-at-all rigorous trial and error effort to determine appropriate procedures and the correct ratio of coffee to water, considering FEDEPMA's limited supply of cups (we opted for cappuccino mugs).

The cabaña kitchen table is also the experimentation station.

Once we figured out the procedure, and wrote some great accompanying docs for the presentation, we led the cupping at FEDEPMA. What follows are a simplified version of the steps, leaving out the table setup part. Also, you're supposed to write something down every time you smell or taste, throughout the ordeal.

Los Pasos de la catacion

1. Measure out the coffee for each sample. Somewhere in the background, start heating water. The amount of coffee should be an exact weight. Since the scales at FEDEPMA are terrible, we used two very level tablespoons of whole beans, which I guess is around 12 grams. Important thing is that it's the same every time.

Two samples per person, check.

2. Grind those beans. Then smell them.

Ready for sniffing.

3. The water should be boiling by now. Take it off the stove, let it cool for 30 seconds, then slowly pour it into the cups, in the same order you ground the coffee. Then smell the coffee again.

Echando agua.

Wearing Ted King t-shirts makes you feel like a faster cyclist, fact. Even if that feeling is depressingly far from the truth...

Get in there.

Falling asleep in this position is not recommended.

4. A crust of wet coffee grounds will form on the top of the cup. After 3-4 min, break it with your spoon, pushing the grounds towards the bottom of the cup. Keep your nose close, smell the break.

Doña Loida has respecfully asked that you refer to her as Loida "THE CRUSTBREAKER" Margarita from this point forth.

5. Clean the excess grounds from the top of the cup. Two spoons work well for this.

Clean, I guess.

6. Taste the coffee. Don't take a sip from the cup - there are a lot of grounds at the bottom. Grab a spoonful, and slurp. Do this several times. Ponder the coffee's taste, aftertaste, brightness, and body.

La encargada del taller de catacion.

Juan tastes melon. Seriously, Juan couldn't stop talking about how the coffee tasted like melons.

Tasting, taking notes, keeping track of international coffee prices via text message. Pedro demonstrates proper multitasking technique.

The cup is for spitting.

7. Discuss. Compare your notes. You weren't supposed to be talking during the cupping, so now's your chance to share your observations. This is a great time to practice sounding like a pretentious coffee snob.

Comparing apuntes, and staring off into the distance. Lunch looms on the horizon.

The crustbreaker ponders. I think Pedro's making fun of her or me, but since he's speaking Tzutujil, I really have no clue.

Otto may be Guatemalan, but he gesticulates like an Italian.

somebody made a funny.

lots of adjectives.

Anyways, that's cupping at FEDEPMA. This week we're teaching the coffee prep course again. Today, while trying to figure out a way to heat up the water (kitchen space was occupied), we had two small gas leaks before finally settling on this:

Seriously, if that doesn't qualify as the most bushleague setup you've ever seen, please do share.