Off to Ecuador in Four Days

Just a short update entry.

After three months in Antigua, we are ready to move on...

We leave for Quito, Ecuador on Thursday, Oct. 30, arriving on Halloween Day. The little I/we know about Ecuador is quite promising. Ecuador has nearly everything you can ask for in a country about the size of Colorado, including a modern-day city, Quito, the Andes, the jungle, and the Galapagos Islands.

Wilson and I will study more spanish in Quito and travel around the country, including the Galapagos Islands. We'll update more upon on arrival.

Thugs and Buses

Well it's been nearly three months since we arrived here in Antigua and while our Spanish still stinks, at least we can muscle our way through the daily papers here. One item I've been following with equal parts horror and fascination is the saga of blood and violence that plays out routinely on the public bus system in Guatemala City.

Not surprisingly, after enduring a 36-year old civil war, the country suffers from a rash of problems that affect developing nations: extreme poverty, corruption, and crime. But while a certain amount of street crime can be expected anywhere, the delinquency here is at its worst in history. The police force is undermanned, underpaid, and according to most people you talk to, thoroughly corrupt. When locals encounter cops here on the street, they cross to the other side. Frequently, police are paid by gangs so that they can continue robbing folks in the street. It is very rare that criminals are brought to justice. Guatemala has a per capita murder rate roughly eight times that of the US, a figure that in and of itself is difficult to conceptualize in a concrete manner. But of the roughly 6,000 murders reported each year, roughly 2% result in jail time, showing that criminals are rarely brought to justice.

The best example of how crime infects the daily existence of Guatemaltecans is the public bus system in Guatemala City. According to the Association of Urban Transport Companies here, an average of 8,000 people get robbed everyday in the city transit system. With a daily ridership of 1,000,000, this suggests that if you ride the bus to work everyday, say 240 times a year, statistically speaking, you can expect to be robbed approximately 1.9 times annually. When discussing this figure with locals, they actually feel like it may be low.

Typically three to four kids will board and demand that the vehicle drive around until all money, cell phones and anything of value from all passengers is handed over. This occurs between 200 and 300 times daily in the capital, or at least one incident for every 15 buses in the city (If you count only the buses operating on a daily basis, the figure is even higher). Of course some bus routes are better than others, but in general people just don't wear jewelry, use cheap cell phones and obviously carry as little cash as possible. What cash they do carry is often hidden in different places all over their body.

And the next time you complain about your daily commute, think of the poor passengers who got robbed twice on the same bus. I'm not sure how often this happens, but I saw an article about an incident two years back when everyone was robbed at gunpoint and then were robbed again seven blocks later by a another group of thugs. Of course they didn't have anything left to give away so the kids just insulted the passengers for an hour or so and threatened to rape a couple people but finally ended up leaving empty-handed.

Armed robberies occur with such frequency that they rarely make the news unless a gunfight breaks out, or if someone is stabbed or raped, which thankfully doesn't happen as often, but still does occur with alarming frequency.

But even worse than being a passenger, driving a bus in the city has turned into one of the most dangerous occupations in the country. This year, the nation has had 255 drivers and fare collectors murdered while working (buses here are a two-man team, with a driver and 'ayudante' or fare collector). 40 drivers have been gunned down in the city, meaning that statistically speaking, 1 out of every 73 buses in the capital have had a driver murdered on the job in first nine and a half months of the year. Like the vast majority of businesses in Guatemala City, buses are forced to pay gang taxes in order to operate. This tax varies depending on the route but ranges generally between 50 and 100 quetzales per diem, or between roughly $7 and $14. If a drivers fails to pay, he risks a bullet to the head. This is also true for the fare collectors, who are routinely shot as well. Certain companies have threatened to stop service until a police officer is assigned full time to each bus. (Note that the buses here, while publicly accessible, are run by private companies). Other companies have had their buses strafed by moto-riding gunmen when failing to pay their taxes and other forms of extortion.

With the authorities powerless against the wave of crime here, folks have been taking things into their own hands. One incident that illustrates with vivid clarity the dramatic manner in which justice can play out occurred a couple of weeks ago in the town of San Pedro Yepocapa, which is about two hours from where we're staying. One evening, a bus was robbed by four gunmen, which isn't that unusual, but four women were also taken from the bus and raped in a coffee plantation. Two of the victims were minors.

Not surprisingly, the neighborhood was in an uproar and gathered to seek revenge on the perpetrators. But when they sought help from the police, they found that the personnel on duty were all drunk. In frustration, they burned down the police station. Afterwards, they found one of the robber/rapists and beat him until he revealed the identities of his accomplices. While being clubbed, he also admitted that the guns were borrowed from the police (many of whom are widely reputed to moonlight as criminals or rent out their weapons). Then the kid was given a final beating and killed in front of an audience of hundreds in the town square.

Public lynching is not super common in Guatemala, but there is a little more than one occurrence every other week or so. In the latest incident, two teenagers were clubbed and burned to death, while yesterday, two kids who had just shot a tuk-tuk driver were beaten and doused with gasoline before the authorities rescued them from certain doom.

While Agnes and I have ventured into the city only a handful of times (Guatemala City is about 45 mins. from Antigua) – once to the city's fantastic zoo, we generally take taxis once we're there. Not surprisingly, the locals we know generally take buses in the city as a last resort as well. The absence of security manifests itself in a zillion other ways even in tourist friendly Antigua, but it basically just comes down to people taking measures to protect themselves (armed guards in front of retail establishments, security bars everywhere (even sometimes between you and the server in an ice cream shop)). But until really getting into it, I sort of thought that all the advice we got about avoiding the city bus system were exaggerated warnings of the type all tourists get at one time or another, but after doing a little digging, I think this counsel is well worth heeding.

While I will concede an almost morbid fascination with the violence on the bus system, what would really be something to witness is the manner in which the epidemic of crime is finally contained, if ever. The nation faces so many other grim realities that are intertwined with delinquency that it's hard to see things truly improving for some time.

The chief of Police was recently replaced (by the first woman to ever hold the position) and she fired hundreds of officers and department heads for corruption. And if she can be successful in eradicating the culture of corruption and laziness in the national police force, it will be a great first step. And the current president is promising to nearly triple the size of the police department. But since the end of the civil war in 1996, Guatemala has never had confidence in the honesty of its national police.

There are frequent calls to employ the army to reinforce the nation's efforts against crime but they are undermanned and ill-equipped to handle such a task in a comprehensive manner either, since the size of the army was radically reduced as part of the peace accords to end the war. The army was responsible for a tremendous number of human rights abuses and atrocities during the conflict. And while an improved economy and increased opportunity for the poor would do wonders for the security situation, this is virtually impossible to achieve when people are so fearful for their physical safety. So while I tell my teachers here that I'd love to come back someday and safely ride a city bus, I'm not sure when that will be.

Another Week in Antigua

We just ended our eleventh week in Antigua with another 3 or so weeks to go. Our original plan was to stay here for 3-4 weeks but that has quickly turned into 2-3 months. In any case, we feel this is a good opportunity for us to really improve our Spanish before moving on to the other countries. I, Agnes, have to admit I'm getting a bit bored of this little town. However, I know this is one of those few opportunities we'll ever get in our lifetimes to receive one-on-one Spanish instruction for a mere $4.50 an hour. Try to beat that in the US.

And for these $4.50/hr lessons, I have learned many helpful words/phrases, some of which I'll share below:

1. Ciruela pasa: Prunes
* Yo tengo problemas... Donde estas la ciruela pasas?
I have problems...where are the prunes.
This goes without saying I encounter digestion problems when I travel, and just recently found this word to be helpful, and also I just like the word.

2. Gallo: A local beer (cereveza, not chicken)
* Nosotros queremos una litre de Gallo.
We want a liter of Gallo.

3. Bombas: Firecrackers
* Que es aquel ruido?
What is that noise?
The typical response is: “It's firecrackers.” Firecrackers are set-off throughout the day from 6 a.m. in the morning, which is not amusing for neither Wilson nor I, to the late evenings in celebration of birthdays, random Saint holidays, Independence Day, etc.

4. Bano: Bathroom (I think this one is obvious)

5. Cafe con leche aparte: Coffee with the milk separate
Much of the cafe con leche here is milk with a little coffee. Therefore it has been helpful for us to learn how to order black coffee with the milk on the side.

6. Miedo vs Mierdo: Scared vs Shit
When I first got here, I use to say "Yo tengo mierdo," trying to say "I was scared" (of getting words wrong, for instance). However, I quickly learned I was saying "I have shit." I can just now say it without the R: MIEDO.

More Random Updates
The weather here has been very wet. As a matter of fact, tonight (Wednesday, 9/30), we had some major thunder showers throughout the day, flooding some of the central streets. I saw a bus and several Tuk Tuks (little cars like bicycles, only with a covers and three wheels rather than two) get stuck in the flood.

Wilson and I also ate at a phenomenal Italian restaurant for the first time in Guatemala. The food is not bad here for what it is (beans, vegetables and rice) but it definitely is not something we'd crave back in the States. I think Wilson mentioned in an earlier entry that our house mom is a wonderful cook, and I'll have to second that motion. But many of the restaurants we've been to have been very disappointing. Fortunately, tonight we were pleasantly surprised by this little Italian restaurant “EL PUNTO.” The restaurant is advertised in a local magazine “Que Pasa” as the only Italian restaurant in Antigua with homemade pasta. Skeptical of self-promoting ads and based on our previous experiences, we did not have high-expectations for the food. But to our surprise, the pasta was al dente, delicious and definitely homemade. As a matter of fact, this was some of the best pasta I've ever tasted (on par with the ones in SF). Although the wine was a bit flat and tasteless, I have to say the pasta made up for the wine!

Before dinner, we went to a lecture on Gang Violence in Guatemala at a local cafe, owned by an ex-pat (I think), Rainbow Cafe. The lecture was held by Juan Carlos, a director of a local non-profit organization that helps troubled youths and ex-members of gangs fit into society. He briefly explained how some of the major gangs in Guatemala were started in the early 80s, during the Civil War, with the original members in Los Angeles. His organization has helped over 600 troubled youths and ex-gang members find normal lives in local communities. He also explained how parts of Guatemala, especially in the Capital, are controlled by major gang and their activities. Juan also explained that in this country (or just in the capital of Guatemala, I forgot) there are nearly 15 deaths a day, the same number as the people getting killed in Iraq and other war-driven countries. Wilson (and possibly I since I like to follow) was interested in volunteering at this non-profit organization but unfortunately the offices are only located in the Capital (Guatemala City) in a pretty dangerous Zona (district) and a little town about two hours from Antigua. Since neither of these two options appealed to us, we may just donate to this cause.

Semuc Champey

After many weeks of hiding out in Antigua, learning Spanish and not updating our blog, we've decided to come back from the dead.

Two weekends ago, we took our third “side trip” outside of Antigua (Volcan Pacaya and Guatemala City were the other two). We went with a group of nice Swiss girls who all had randomly met in Antigua. We went to Semuc Champey, a hidden town several hours outside of Copan.

We left late Friday evening and hit some traffic going through Guatemala City. This was a special weekend for the chapinos (local Guatemalans) since it was a weekend before their Independence Day on Monday, Sept. 15. Every year, during this time, local schools hold a racing event simply called the “Torch Run” where groups of kids run with their schools into their city, with one kid holding a torch. Traffic is held up as groups of kids run in front of a bus, with lines of cars following – and our car being one (imagine this in the States). Since there are more than just a few schools in town, you can imagine how many groups of kids are running during this weekend and what it does to traffic.

Anyway, after about six hours on the road, with lovely greenery almost the entire way there, we arrived in Copan, in search for our hotel. The agency that booked our hotel actually got this hotel out of the yellow pages, so Wilson and I had no idea what to expect. However, when we arrived at the hotel, we were delightfully surprised to find that for a 22-dollar-a-night hotel, this place was not bad. I believe it was called the Bosque Hotel. After washing up and some dinner, we hit the sack in hopes of a wild day tomorrow at Semuc Champey.

The ride to Semuc Champey was over two hours off the beaten track. After some very steep, rocky and windy turns, our driver got us all there safely.

When we arrived at Semuc Champey, we were greeted with a bunch of kids selling chocolate chip cookies, chocolate and other random items. Of course you couldn't help but feel sorry for them. We promised to buy some (chocolate chip cookies) later.

We trekked through the hills of Semuc Champey and made it halfway up to the “mirador,” a place where you could see the waterfall from the top of the mountain. More than half the group didn't want to go up and the other half didn't care so the choice was to go back down. Wilson was one of the first ones to hit the water and the rest of the girls, including me, were a bit skeptical to go in.

I (and as many of the other women I was with) felt very uncomfortable going into the water with our bikinis. I learned from my teacher later that many locals do not wear “ropa de bano” (also known as bathing suits in English) when they go into public water. Instead many of the women go into the water with their shirts and shorts on. As a matter of fact, we saw several women go in fully clothed. So, we (the ladies with Wilson as the guard) went into the water all together, disrobing our shirts and shorts nearby the water.

The water was cool and very refreshing. I (Agnes) was somehow a bit nervous when I jumped into the deeper parts of the pool (6 feet but still...). Not sure why I was scared but after some getting use to, I was fine.

As we were leaving the park, we bought two pieces of what we thought were chocolate chip cookies. To Wilson's surprise, the 'cookie' was hard, bitter and tasteless. He soon found out this 'cookie' was actually chocolate used to make hot chocolate (pretty random to be selling in front of a park on a hot day). As such, I gave mine to a little kid that was selling his services to hold your water cooler while you trekked down the mountain.

After we all had enough sun and water, we decided to head over to “Lanquin” - a nearby cave that houses thousands of bats. You can see from the photos, that there are many interesting, natural rock formations that have formed over the years (frog, tiger, etc.).
Unfortunately, we only saw one loner bat in the cave, as we arrived too early to catch the bats come back home. Typically it's recommended that you arrive right at sunset to witness all the bats flying home. Que lastima!

We headed back to our hotel in Copan after the caves. Since lunch was a bit light, we all washed up quickly and went back to the one-and-only restaurant in front of the hotel. I ordered this grilled chicken shish kabab and Wilson also ordered some chicken thing that was pretty dry. Before I finished my meal, the kind waiter brought us an extra chicken shish kabob, gratis (free). I tried a piece and insisted that Wilson try some since it was extremely soft and juicy. When there was one piece of chicken left, I noticed that it was not fully cooked (a bit red on the inside). I kept my fingers crossed that everything would be fine for the two of us tomorrow.

The next day, Wilson woke up complaining about flu-like symptoms. He knew immediately he had a slight case of food poisoning. Unfortunately, we had six or more hours ahead of us in a car on some windy roads so I knew the ride home for him would not be pleasant.

After we all packed into the shuttle, we stopped at a Bird Sanctuary before going home. Wilson was obviously not up to the hike so it was just the Swiss gals, the driver and me. Although the hike was quite pleasant and easy, we did not see a single bird. We did, however, see a nice small water fall at the top of the mountain.

On the way home, we hit yet more traffic with a land slide that occurred Friday evening and more torch runners running into Guatemala City and Antigua. I felt bad for Wilson since he was really beginning to feel dizzy, nausea and altogether awful.

We finally arrived in Antigua after about 5-6 hours on the road. We walked home and Wilson went straight to bed.

Overall, this was a nice trip but given the long-drive, bad traffic and food poisoning, perhaps we should have stayed in town to watch the Patriots beat the Jets.

And you will be happy to know that Wilson's appetite is back to normal and he's doing fine.

Dressing a Chicken

It's been some time since we've updated our Blog as we've been hunkered down studying. Our apologies for those of you who've been waiting at the edge of your seat. I, Wilson, also came down with a nasty bit of food poisoning last weekend.

Onward...
A few weeks ago we killed and dressed our first live chicken!

For about three weeks, we were fortunate to be in the company of Marta, a sweet gal from South Carolina who was in town brushing up on her Spanish grammar. She is currently teaching deaf children in El Salvador on a church mission. In addition to being able to sign and speak Spanish, she also an expert at killing and cleaning chickens. Her family in the States raises broilers and can house more than 200,000 at one time. So before she left, she was kind enough to impart her knowledge about this valuable skill to me. Three other missionaries lived at the house.

It's not imperative in this day and age to be able dress your own chicken, especially when we live in San Francisco. But oddly enough, one night Agnes and I discovered that we were the only folks at the dinner table never to have done so. All the missionaries had, and our house mother does it with some frequency. One of the missionaries, Karlyn, hunts for most of his meat near his home in Oregon. In fact, he hunts elk with a bow. After a successful hunt, he and his hunting partners will field dress the carcass and hump the meat out of the woods on their backs. He is also good with a rifle. Ranchers in Oregon sometimes struggle with coyote attacks on their cattle and allow hunters to hunt them on their land. Karlyn will often take out a coyote from 400 yards.

Anyway, feeling a little left out, we decided to exploit the expertise of our roommates. Our house mother, Hilda, I'm sure was happy to get the night off since I'd offered to cook. She was also kind enough to show me the best place in the market to purchase a bird I think she thought it was a little odd that I wanted to slaughter a chicken in her house. Also, upon hearing that we were simply making a soup out of it, she remarked that we should just buy a dead one (to take full advantage of a fresh chicken, I think you should roast it, but I thought it would be easier to feed a bunch of people with chicken soup).

Buying a chicken wasn't difficult but we did go sort of late in the day, and had to choose between the last two chickens in the market, which cost 50 Quetzales, or about $7. Hilda said I got ripped off and should not have been charged more than 40 or 45. But since we got to market so late in the afternoon and not much was left, I had no choice but to cough up the extra 5Q.

I suppose one reason chickens have been domesticated is that they are so calm. I thought perhaps after purchase, that I would be supplied with a carrier or box or something, but they just tie up the feet and you carry it home in your hands. The animal displayed no signs of alarm when being carried upside down by its feet, as if this were the preferred method of transport. That said, Hilda thought it better that I carry it right side up by it's wings. Not sure if this was for the chicken's comfort or mine. Once home, we tied it too a post and gave it some water. I asked if we should feed it since we weren't eating it until the next day, but was told that it's actually better not too feed it since it will just result in more shit to clean.

Killing and dressing a chicken is a really easy thing. You can either break its neck with your hands in one swift motion, or lop its head off. I chose the latter. Hilda thought that twisting the head of the chicken was cleaner but another of the missionaries offered that sometimes you aren't sure if it's really dead. Her cousin was dressing a chicken once and it came to life again when she was soaking it to remove the feathers.

Anyway, to lop its head off, Marta held the feet, I stretched its neck out and Agnes took pictures. One of my primary goals was to offer the bird a swift and painless death, as I think it's the least you can do for an animal you're about to eat. Unfortunately, I think I failed. My knife was a little on the dull side, and fearing that I'd chop off my own hand rather than the chicken's head, I took kind of a gingerly whack at it. And then another, and then I actually sort of ended up sawing the poor bird's head off while it flopped about in the sink. It's unclear to me how much of the flopping was done while the bird was alive and how much while dead, though I'm certain much of the struggling occurred after the head had been more or less removed (save for a few stringy bits). I considered letting the carcass run around a spell but I didn't want to muck up Hilda's kitchen.

Afterwards I held the bird upside down (the same way I carried it home) to let it drain. This doesn't take long since there's surprisingly little blood in a chicken. Then you soak it in hot water to loosen the feathers. These are easily removed and then you're left with something that more or less looks like it came from Safeway (though still with feet). To remove the innards, you make a small horizontal incision near it's bunghole and then just tear out everything on the inside with your hands. Marta helped me discern the useful bits from the waste. For instance, we saved the heart, liver and gizzard and discarded the intestines and a lot of gloopy purple stuff she was unable to identify. I never thought I'd say this but tearing the guts out of a freshly killed bird with your bare hands feels exactly like you'd think it would. Once you've done this and chopped off the feet (which we saved for the soup), you're all set to prepare whatever way you normally would.

One thing I do have to mention is that a bird looks a good deal larger with its feathers. In fact, I believe the chicken I killed must have been the smallest bird I've ever eaten. So if you plan on killing and eating a chicken, I suggest you buy a larger animal than you think you'll need.

In the end, we boiled the chicken with some vegetables and made an ok soup. I think with enough salt and pepper, anything can taste good.
Agnes also made cookies that I think went over even better than the chicken.

It should be noted that most people in Antigua do not dress their own chickens. They buy theirs at the market like most people we know (though the chickens are usually recently killed – save for the american imported chickens which come frozen). So killing a chicken wasn't one of those “When in Rome...” kinds of cultural experiences. But it just so happened that I lived two blocks from a market where live chickens are sold in a house where animals are occasionally slaughtered and we were in the company of an expert chicken cleaner. Clearly this was an opportunity not to be missed. I like the idea of better understanding where my food comes from and how it looks as it's being prepared for my dinner. Perhaps one day we'll be able to kill a boar and make prosciutto.

Little Differences

Click (or copy and paste the link into your Internet browser) to view more random photos from Antigua
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=32387&l=7ff63&id=545832350


Mercado

The “mercado” in Antigua is held every Monday, Thursday and Saturday. During these three days, you can find hundreds of vendors selling anything from beef, eggs, dried beans, fruit and vegetables to live chickens, underwear and mosquito repellent. During these three days, many locals (and foreigners) go to the “mercado” to get the best bargain for their shopping needs. Just the other day, we bought over 3 pounds of oranges for under a dollar (and toilet paper for 40 cents). It definitely beats Walmart!

Horses

We don't know a lot about horses nor do we ride them frequently. However, one obvious difference we noticed immediately is that horses here wear diapers (see photo). The diapers are made of corn or rice bags and hang directly under the horse's butt. We think this is a great idea and should be adopted in the US.


Toilet paper

The toilet paper here feels and acts the same but there is a one major difference: we can't toss toilet paper into the (toilet) bowl. Unfortunately, the pipes are not designed to process (toilet) paper so it must be thrown into a trash can. Although this was a hard concept for me (Agnes) to grasp at first, it's simply business as usual now. Que lastima!

Bugs

There are lots, especially mosquitoes and flies. Sometimes I wish I studied bugs and insects so I'd know how to keep the mosquitoes off. I've also seen (and continue to see) some of the largest cockroaches in my lifetime. Sorry the photo is awful but I typically do not have my camera when I encounter one.

Relationships

Just through sheer observation, we've noticed that more Guatemalan men here date foreign women. We have yet to see a Guatemalan woman with a foreign man. Not sure why that is but what we do know is that women tend to be more reserved here, since it's a very small town and word travels fast.

A Day in Antigua

Although some of our time here in Antigua is to observe and soak in the new culture, we've probably spent the bulk of our time just studying and living life as a student (despite what the photo suggests).

A typical day for us is as such:

Every morning, except Sundays, and when we don't want breakfast, we are woken up by a knock and jingle: “desayuno” (which means breakfast) by the cleaning lady. This means breakfast is ready and time for us to start our day. We'll struggle out of bed, put on layers of clothing so we are not bitten by mosquitoes during breakfast and head over to the dining room.

After breakfast, we head off to class for our first four hours of Spanish. Fortunately, class is held just across the street at our neighbor's patio. Although it is very convenient for us, there are several amusing aspects about having class here. First, the house is located right next to a tannery, a place where they make leather, so we are blessed every day with wild scents of dead animals. During our first week, I thought it was the parrot and canaries giving off these foul odors but I soon found out the smell was from next door. You have to love leather.

At 12 pm, we head back home, At approximately 12:15 or so, we get another knock and “almuerzo” (lunch). Almuerzo is typically the largest meal of the day in Guatemala. If we are served meat, this is typically the meal where it's served. We head off to class after lunch for an additional two hours (of Spanish conversation). Although we find it helpful, you can imagine how challenging it can be sometimes to find an interesting conversation for two full hours.

After class, we either study at a cafe or go to the gym.

(Although this week we've discontinued our additional two hours of Spanish in the afternoon for additional studies, and hopefully more blog entries.)

Approximately 6:15 pm, we receive one last knock and “cena” (dinner). Dinner typically consists of vegetables, frijoles, rice or pasta.

We have frequented some bars and clubs here, although, I (Agnes) still find it a bit unnerving to walk around in the dark with just the two of us. I'm getting use to it though. We will go out typically on Fridays and Saturdays, if at all.

Last Friday, we went to a local dance club “Sin Ventura.” As you can see from the photo(s), we had a great time. This is a bar/club where many locals (also known as 'Guatamaltecans') and tourists frequent. We went with several of our friends from school and met some locals as well.

As a side bar, here's some studying tips we (or at least, I, Agnes) have used:

Since it's been many years since we've last taken a class in anything that required memorization, I (Agnes) have forgotten how much work is required to learn a new language. I've learned new tricks to keep myself motivated. For instance, I'll reward myself with coffee or a shower (yes, I'm much dirtier now) only after I've conjugated a stack of my flash cards in future tense. I've also learned to stretch and do push-ups while I'm studying. Hope you find this helpful.