Happy birthday to me!
Guatemalan traditions for birthdays are…exciting. Most notably, mordida.
Go to take a bite of cake without hands, get your face smashed into your cake, and come up for air covered in whipped frosting and red syrup. My Guatemalan brother had a little bit too much fun with that one. (And praise Jesus for Gloria, who warned me that morning about said tradition :)
I guess I should rewind…my whole 21st birthday. Tuesday, the 23rd.
I woke up at normal time and was treated to homemade banana pancakes. I pulled the ‘birthday card’ and got the last one because YUM. Then off to school, as per the usual, where Gloria was already waiting with the most beautiful hair clip and little Guatemalan purse and a little note for me. Smiles and hugs and thanks and down to business learning Spanish. Not much later, Chels came and delivered a chocolate croissant that she and her tutor, Esther, went and walked and bought for me. (Heads up, it was delicious. Santa Clara is the loveliest little panedería (bakery) a few blocks from school. Hugs from a couple friends and their tutors, well-wishes given entirely in Spanish, and some beautiful sunshine.
During ‘la pausa’ (the break we get in the middle of the day) a few of us walked to a little tienda (store) about a block away and I was treated to choco-fruta (chocolate covered fruit). Let’s just say that I immediately fell in love with chocolate covered papaya. The rest of the morning went by without anything terribly exciting.
I walked back with all of us in my house and opted for some ‘down time’ in my room. I’m an introvert, what can I say. About an hour later, lunch got ready and I got the usual call of ‘lista!’ (‘it’s ready’). I climbed down from my bunk, made it to the door, and had my eyes covered and hands grabbed. It’s safe to say that, in that moment, I was so entirely confused. I got walked down the hall and into the dining room, where my eyes were opened to balloons and quesadillas (one of my favorite meals here…complete with fresh guac and pico de gallo) and an enormous cake. We ate and laughed and sang and I blew out candles and then I may or may not have had my face smashed into a corner of the cake. It was wonderful.
Volunteering went over as normal, and I love those kids so much. Yeah, sometimes they’re a pain. But they’re kids, and totally okay with being their dorky, sassy, beautiful selves. I listen to them read out loud in English, I read spelling words and help them find ways to remember the strangeness of English spelling, and work through math problems. I sing songs with them on the way to and from Momma Nancy’s and they occasionally help me with my Spanish (and they love teaching me new words and giving me pop-quizzes along the lines of, ‘what’s the word for cat/dog/house/window/door/world/friend/they actually make me feel really smart because I know these things!’). Plus, the dogs are adorable, which is always a plus. Gabiota and Sirius and Ruby (I couldn’t pick a favorite from these three beauties), Gracie, Doonie, Frida (who is now on her way to Southern California to live with her forever family) and Bella the genius ankle-biter who pretends to love you and wins your heart anyway. The dogs are good for the kids, the kids are good for the dogs, and I got blessed enough to get dropped into the middle of it.
Kids + dogs + English + books = happy Julia.
The rest of this week has gone by pretty normally. I’m learning more tenses than I can wrap my head around, but now I know how to command people I know well how to do or not do things (because it’s only the form you can use with people close to you…haven’t gotten to commanding people in authority yet:).
Today Gloria and I got to walk around the city for a bit, and she showed me a beautiful street that all along it had the Stations of the Cross painted in life-sized murals. Usually, they’re kept behind locked doors (and people can pay to walk along inside or whatever), but today, for reasons not entirely known to us, they were all open and adorned with candles and flowers. The final three stations were in a church we walked through and the whole thing was beautiful.
I genuinely can’t get over how thankful I am for Gloria. She is beautiful and patient and genuine and the more we learn about each other, the more crazy things we find that we have in common. A pretty general conclusion is that we’re basically the same person. We’re both more like our fathers than our moms, we have ever slightly different versions of the same middle name, we’re both fiercely protective of our younger siblings, we’re both runners, we’re both fairly soft-spoken until you get to know us. We’ve shared backstories and have overcome some similar battles, we share a love of fruit and sour flavors, and we’re both passionate about careers in loving on people. I could carry on…she is a genuine highlight of my time here, and I cannot thank her enough. She keeps me sane and she helps me to be patient with myself. She helps support my coffee addiction and my love of language.
Last night a few of us played soccer with Anderson in our little patio. We laughed until our sides hurt and we jammed our toes and it was such a needed reminder of common humanity. Sometimes, it gets easy to mentally disconnect. I’ve always been someone that felt things very deeply, and when I’m living a couple countries away from the one I was born in I tend towards either extreme; I get overwhelmed with the beauty and tragedy and mystery of it all, or I disconnect and go through the motions. Neither of these are default settings I want to revert back to. So I consistently fight for middle ground and I try to apply the morals of the books the kids read to me and I balance talking with Jesus with drinking smoothies and unhealthy amounts of coffee and reading good books and journaling and napping and learning and volunteering and simple being present as much as I can.
Tomorrow will be a grand adventure that will likely include going nonstop for 20 hours (ain’t nothing like starting with a 3am alarm and adding in two flights, four bus rides, some jungle hiking, a handful of Mayan temples, and an outrageous number of steep steps). All sorts of pictures and updates will follow, I’m sure!
Guatemalan traditions for birthdays are…exciting. Most notably, mordida.
Go to take a bite of cake without hands, get your face smashed into your cake, and come up for air covered in whipped frosting and red syrup. My Guatemalan brother had a little bit too much fun with that one. (And praise Jesus for Gloria, who warned me that morning about said tradition :)
I guess I should rewind…my whole 21st birthday. Tuesday, the 23rd.
I woke up at normal time and was treated to homemade banana pancakes. I pulled the ‘birthday card’ and got the last one because YUM. Then off to school, as per the usual, where Gloria was already waiting with the most beautiful hair clip and little Guatemalan purse and a little note for me. Smiles and hugs and thanks and down to business learning Spanish. Not much later, Chels came and delivered a chocolate croissant that she and her tutor, Esther, went and walked and bought for me. (Heads up, it was delicious. Santa Clara is the loveliest little panedería (bakery) a few blocks from school. Hugs from a couple friends and their tutors, well-wishes given entirely in Spanish, and some beautiful sunshine.
During ‘la pausa’ (the break we get in the middle of the day) a few of us walked to a little tienda (store) about a block away and I was treated to choco-fruta (chocolate covered fruit). Let’s just say that I immediately fell in love with chocolate covered papaya. The rest of the morning went by without anything terribly exciting.
I walked back with all of us in my house and opted for some ‘down time’ in my room. I’m an introvert, what can I say. About an hour later, lunch got ready and I got the usual call of ‘lista!’ (‘it’s ready’). I climbed down from my bunk, made it to the door, and had my eyes covered and hands grabbed. It’s safe to say that, in that moment, I was so entirely confused. I got walked down the hall and into the dining room, where my eyes were opened to balloons and quesadillas (one of my favorite meals here…complete with fresh guac and pico de gallo) and an enormous cake. We ate and laughed and sang and I blew out candles and then I may or may not have had my face smashed into a corner of the cake. It was wonderful.
Volunteering went over as normal, and I love those kids so much. Yeah, sometimes they’re a pain. But they’re kids, and totally okay with being their dorky, sassy, beautiful selves. I listen to them read out loud in English, I read spelling words and help them find ways to remember the strangeness of English spelling, and work through math problems. I sing songs with them on the way to and from Momma Nancy’s and they occasionally help me with my Spanish (and they love teaching me new words and giving me pop-quizzes along the lines of, ‘what’s the word for cat/dog/house/window/door/world/friend/they actually make me feel really smart because I know these things!’). Plus, the dogs are adorable, which is always a plus. Gabiota and Sirius and Ruby (I couldn’t pick a favorite from these three beauties), Gracie, Doonie, Frida (who is now on her way to Southern California to live with her forever family) and Bella the genius ankle-biter who pretends to love you and wins your heart anyway. The dogs are good for the kids, the kids are good for the dogs, and I got blessed enough to get dropped into the middle of it.
Kids + dogs + English + books = happy Julia.
The rest of this week has gone by pretty normally. I’m learning more tenses than I can wrap my head around, but now I know how to command people I know well how to do or not do things (because it’s only the form you can use with people close to you…haven’t gotten to commanding people in authority yet:).
Today Gloria and I got to walk around the city for a bit, and she showed me a beautiful street that all along it had the Stations of the Cross painted in life-sized murals. Usually, they’re kept behind locked doors (and people can pay to walk along inside or whatever), but today, for reasons not entirely known to us, they were all open and adorned with candles and flowers. The final three stations were in a church we walked through and the whole thing was beautiful.
I genuinely can’t get over how thankful I am for Gloria. She is beautiful and patient and genuine and the more we learn about each other, the more crazy things we find that we have in common. A pretty general conclusion is that we’re basically the same person. We’re both more like our fathers than our moms, we have ever slightly different versions of the same middle name, we’re both fiercely protective of our younger siblings, we’re both runners, we’re both fairly soft-spoken until you get to know us. We’ve shared backstories and have overcome some similar battles, we share a love of fruit and sour flavors, and we’re both passionate about careers in loving on people. I could carry on…she is a genuine highlight of my time here, and I cannot thank her enough. She keeps me sane and she helps me to be patient with myself. She helps support my coffee addiction and my love of language.
Last night a few of us played soccer with Anderson in our little patio. We laughed until our sides hurt and we jammed our toes and it was such a needed reminder of common humanity. Sometimes, it gets easy to mentally disconnect. I’ve always been someone that felt things very deeply, and when I’m living a couple countries away from the one I was born in I tend towards either extreme; I get overwhelmed with the beauty and tragedy and mystery of it all, or I disconnect and go through the motions. Neither of these are default settings I want to revert back to. So I consistently fight for middle ground and I try to apply the morals of the books the kids read to me and I balance talking with Jesus with drinking smoothies and unhealthy amounts of coffee and reading good books and journaling and napping and learning and volunteering and simple being present as much as I can.
Tomorrow will be a grand adventure that will likely include going nonstop for 20 hours (ain’t nothing like starting with a 3am alarm and adding in two flights, four bus rides, some jungle hiking, a handful of Mayan temples, and an outrageous number of steep steps). All sorts of pictures and updates will follow, I’m sure!