Once in awhile I come across a book that grips me and doesn´t let go until I have stayed up all night with it, fell asleep clutching it with the lights on, cried into my sheet, and spent the whole next day reading very, very slowly for fear it will end. Don´t Move, by Margaret Mazzantini, is one of those books. It is incredibly graphic, vulgar, gripping, heart-rending and gorgeously written.
English language books sell at a premium here in Antigua, so it behoves me to trade my used copy of this book in for a discount on teh next book I buy. But I can´t. This one I´m lugging all the way home.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Monday, September 25, 2006
nine days left until i leave for san jose to connect to miami to connect to LAX.
over the weekend, my host mom took me to a Quincinera in a neighboring pueblo. The whole town seemed to be there, dancing and celebrating the coming of age of a striking young woman.
My roommate and I met a very friendly family with tons of rambunctious kids at the party, who invited us over the next day for lunch. We arrived Sunday morning and spent a good part of the day teaching the kids oragami. Nancy, the mother, is the same age as I am. She has 4 kids, three her own and one ridiculously cute baby girl that she and her husband adopted a month ago. they are such a happy family, and the parents are so full of love for each other and their children. the kids and parents take turns hugging and adoring the baby. all of them live in a 1 bedroom concrete house about 200 square feet in size, but what they lack in material wealth they more than make up for in an abundance of laughter and smiles.
over the weekend, my host mom took me to a Quincinera in a neighboring pueblo. The whole town seemed to be there, dancing and celebrating the coming of age of a striking young woman.
My roommate and I met a very friendly family with tons of rambunctious kids at the party, who invited us over the next day for lunch. We arrived Sunday morning and spent a good part of the day teaching the kids oragami. Nancy, the mother, is the same age as I am. She has 4 kids, three her own and one ridiculously cute baby girl that she and her husband adopted a month ago. they are such a happy family, and the parents are so full of love for each other and their children. the kids and parents take turns hugging and adoring the baby. all of them live in a 1 bedroom concrete house about 200 square feet in size, but what they lack in material wealth they more than make up for in an abundance of laughter and smiles.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
lax to gua for $188
yes you read that correctly. LAX to Guatemala City, round trip, for $188. dates are december thru march. Check farecompare.com leaving from LAX and you will find it...at least until it runs out. this is so cheap it makes me want to....oh wait....yes.... i´m already IN guatemala.
Update: Deal is no longer available. Sigh.
Update: Deal is no longer available. Sigh.
Monday, September 18, 2006
comida guatemalteco
i love guatemalan food. love. it.
i don´t know what all the dishes are called, but they are delicious! there is a lot of rice, so i don´t miss chinese food as much as i thought i would.
my host mom doesn´t need to spend that much money on the food she feeds us, but she takes pride in her cooking, and for good reason. other students are not fed meat every day, since their families scrimp on food in order to keep more of the money we pay them. but not marta. she feeds me heaps of meat, usually 3 times a day.
this morning i had pancakes with papaya, banana, watermelon, melon and pineapple for breakfast. for lunch i had pepion, a typical guatemalteco dish with chicken in a spicy chile puree over rice. i cannot wait to see what´s for dinner!
i am attending a salsa & merengue dance class this afternoon. tomorrow i am visiting a macadamia farm, wednesday i am taking a bike tour of the city, and later this week i am visiting a coffee plantation. the cost of all activities, 4 hours of private one on one spanish instruction per day, lodging in an adorable house, and 3 meals a day is $165. that´s less than i would spend per week if i were living in san diego and eating cheap food every day. i will really miss it here when i leave in 3 weeks.
i don´t know what all the dishes are called, but they are delicious! there is a lot of rice, so i don´t miss chinese food as much as i thought i would.
my host mom doesn´t need to spend that much money on the food she feeds us, but she takes pride in her cooking, and for good reason. other students are not fed meat every day, since their families scrimp on food in order to keep more of the money we pay them. but not marta. she feeds me heaps of meat, usually 3 times a day.
this morning i had pancakes with papaya, banana, watermelon, melon and pineapple for breakfast. for lunch i had pepion, a typical guatemalteco dish with chicken in a spicy chile puree over rice. i cannot wait to see what´s for dinner!
i am attending a salsa & merengue dance class this afternoon. tomorrow i am visiting a macadamia farm, wednesday i am taking a bike tour of the city, and later this week i am visiting a coffee plantation. the cost of all activities, 4 hours of private one on one spanish instruction per day, lodging in an adorable house, and 3 meals a day is $165. that´s less than i would spend per week if i were living in san diego and eating cheap food every day. i will really miss it here when i leave in 3 weeks.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
A wise pronouncement
A few days ago I was sitting in a cigar and wine cafe in Antigua, waiting for J to buy a cigar for her boyfriend, when I picked up a random paper and saw the poem ¨For Instances¨ by Jorge Luis Borges.
There was a very, very old man sitting near the entrance of the cafe, by the street, having a glass of wine. I struck up a conversation with him. His name is Peter, and unapologetically, with a friendly smile and a sometimes distant gaze, he told me about his life.
I was born in Germany many years ago. I used to write Nazi propaganda for the government. I fought in the Nazi army in WWII, and in the American army in the Korean War. I was Paris´s first hippie, camping for a year in a park there with two girlfriends. Inexplicably, after Paris I went to the states and spent a year at Brigham Young University. I am not Mormon, but many people there tried to convert me (chuckles). After that I returned to Germany and completed law school. I ended up running for office in Germany, and spent the rest of my life until retirement as a politician. I have been many places in this world, and here, Antigua...this is my last place.
I passed Peter the Borges poem and asked him what he thought of it. I asked him, is this true?
Peter replied,
Well, I am old enough now to be able to make wise pronouncements about life. Yes, this poem is true. But I have something to add. You are young, and I want to give you advice, and it is this: Travel as much as you possibly can, all over the world, and make sure you do it while you are young. Because when you are old, traveling to certain places is no longer feasible.
And in 20 years, K, when you have traveled the world and return to California, you will meet some of your friends who had never left, and you will realize that they are lacking something.
It is so important to travel. Make it a goal of yours to live for a year or two in another country and to see as much as you can of different people and experience different cultures. Not so that you can see different things and discover different things--but so that in doing so you will find yourself.
Peter is obviously not a Nazi any longer. When he talked about his time as a Nazi, his eyes showed what i imagined to be a sort of surprised amusement at how far he had come. There was no remorse, as if he knew what he did was wrong but had come to terms with it long, long ago. He was telling me how much he loved Shanghai, and he was incredibly warm and kind to me.
Sometimes I doubt whether traveling so much is a good idea. Not often, just sometimes. But were it not for my decision to travel, I would never have been there, on a street cafe speaking with a man nearing the end of his life, who had come here to die, and who wanted to tell me how important it is to keep seeing the world. It´s the little magic moments like this one that keep me moving.
There was a very, very old man sitting near the entrance of the cafe, by the street, having a glass of wine. I struck up a conversation with him. His name is Peter, and unapologetically, with a friendly smile and a sometimes distant gaze, he told me about his life.
I was born in Germany many years ago. I used to write Nazi propaganda for the government. I fought in the Nazi army in WWII, and in the American army in the Korean War. I was Paris´s first hippie, camping for a year in a park there with two girlfriends. Inexplicably, after Paris I went to the states and spent a year at Brigham Young University. I am not Mormon, but many people there tried to convert me (chuckles). After that I returned to Germany and completed law school. I ended up running for office in Germany, and spent the rest of my life until retirement as a politician. I have been many places in this world, and here, Antigua...this is my last place.
I passed Peter the Borges poem and asked him what he thought of it. I asked him, is this true?
Peter replied,
Well, I am old enough now to be able to make wise pronouncements about life. Yes, this poem is true. But I have something to add. You are young, and I want to give you advice, and it is this: Travel as much as you possibly can, all over the world, and make sure you do it while you are young. Because when you are old, traveling to certain places is no longer feasible.
And in 20 years, K, when you have traveled the world and return to California, you will meet some of your friends who had never left, and you will realize that they are lacking something.
It is so important to travel. Make it a goal of yours to live for a year or two in another country and to see as much as you can of different people and experience different cultures. Not so that you can see different things and discover different things--but so that in doing so you will find yourself.
Peter is obviously not a Nazi any longer. When he talked about his time as a Nazi, his eyes showed what i imagined to be a sort of surprised amusement at how far he had come. There was no remorse, as if he knew what he did was wrong but had come to terms with it long, long ago. He was telling me how much he loved Shanghai, and he was incredibly warm and kind to me.
Sometimes I doubt whether traveling so much is a good idea. Not often, just sometimes. But were it not for my decision to travel, I would never have been there, on a street cafe speaking with a man nearing the end of his life, who had come here to die, and who wanted to tell me how important it is to keep seeing the world. It´s the little magic moments like this one that keep me moving.
For Instances
If I could I would live my life over.
This time I would try to make more mistakes.
I would try not to be so perfect, I would laugh more.
I would be so much sillier than I have been
that I would take few things seriously.
I would be less hygienic.
I would risk more, take more trips, contemplate
more sunsets, climb more mountains, ford more streams.
I would go to more places I have never been.
I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans.
I would have more real problems
and fewer imaginary ones.
I was one of those people who lived every minute of life
sensibly and productively. Of course I had moments of delight.
But if I were able to go back it would be
for good moments only.
Because, if you don't know it, that's what life's made of: moments.
Do not waste even this one.
I was a guy who never went anywhere without a thermometer,
a hot water bottle, an umbrella, and a poncho.
If I could live my life again I would travel more lightly.
If I could live again I would start going barefoot
when spring comes and not stop till fall's long gone.
I would walk down more side streets, contemplate more dawns,
and play with more children, if I had my life ahead of me again.
But, come now. I am 85 years old. I know I am dying.
This time I would try to make more mistakes.
I would try not to be so perfect, I would laugh more.
I would be so much sillier than I have been
that I would take few things seriously.
I would be less hygienic.
I would risk more, take more trips, contemplate
more sunsets, climb more mountains, ford more streams.
I would go to more places I have never been.
I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans.
I would have more real problems
and fewer imaginary ones.
I was one of those people who lived every minute of life
sensibly and productively. Of course I had moments of delight.
But if I were able to go back it would be
for good moments only.
Because, if you don't know it, that's what life's made of: moments.
Do not waste even this one.
I was a guy who never went anywhere without a thermometer,
a hot water bottle, an umbrella, and a poncho.
If I could live my life again I would travel more lightly.
If I could live again I would start going barefoot
when spring comes and not stop till fall's long gone.
I would walk down more side streets, contemplate more dawns,
and play with more children, if I had my life ahead of me again.
But, come now. I am 85 years old. I know I am dying.
Monday, September 04, 2006
bocas del toro
I'm in paradise. I'm staying at 4 bedroom hotel built on stilts over the water. I can look through the floorboards and see the turquoise water below, clear through to the bottom where lots of starfish hang around. Colorful fish of all kinds swim by the hammock hanging off of our hotel room's deck. The water is warm.
Yesterday while snorkeling I was stung five times by jellyfish, once in the face. We exact vengeance by poking the jellyfish, which causes them to splay out and tumble away in a hilarious state if disarray, tentacles flying in every which direction.
Yesterday while snorkeling I was stung five times by jellyfish, once in the face. We exact vengeance by poking the jellyfish, which causes them to splay out and tumble away in a hilarious state if disarray, tentacles flying in every which direction.
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