There are big changes in the works. Training is almost over—a week from Friday and I’m done—but it’s been quite a slog to get here. Sure there are good moments, just as there are bad ones that follow, then inevitably good ones again, ad infinitam. I realize that my blogs must seem to disproportionately focus on the bad, so I vow to make this one balance the others out. Bucket baths and chronic illness aside, I really am loving life.
My family and I finally went to the beach, which they have been promising for nearly as long as I’ve been living here. Of course, like everything here it’s very different from how I used to go to the beach in Minnesota. First, though, should probably talk about international events, and their sometimes shocking effect they have the world over.
I hear there was an earthquake of some note in Japan. The coverage here has been rather limited, though, and I admit I don’t know many of the details of what’s going on. Imagine, therefore, my surprise when I got a text from our Safety and Security Coordinator (SSC) on Friday afternoon that said “ALERT—TSUNAMI APPROACHING FROM JAPAN IN THE PACIFIC OCEAN. GUATEMALAN SHORES WILL BE HIT AT 15:00 hours with waves +/- 1.5 meters. Pacific shoreline is OFF-LIMITS until we lift the warning.”
In Minnesota we don’t have earthquakes, nor Pacific oceans for that matter, so it’s hard to conceive of an earthquake big enough to effect little ol’ Guatemala all the way from Japan. Of course, the next thing I thought was that I couldn’t possibly have the conversion from meters into feet correct. Did he mean fifteen meters? Was the Peace Corps really getting upset enough to issue a tsunami alert over waves that are shorter than most 10-year olds? Were waves of this stature really that much different than other unprotected shorelines?
I quickly called the SSC and got him to promise me that he’d call me with any updates. I ultimately got clearance from him to go to the beach at San José, about two hours south of me, on the condition that I would call when I got back.
Begin Operation Beach Bum.
The plan was for us to arise at 3:30am to get in the car by 4:00 and hit the surf by 6:00, 6:15 tops. My skepticism was put aside in favor of seeing “huge” waves and sunning myself on black-sand beaches next to attractive natives in minimal fabric. 3:30 it was. Also, Yuna, the Healthy Schools volunteer who had lived with Don Tereso and Doña Mayra before me, her site mate Christie, and her friend from the US were joining us. The more the merrier. Sometimes it’s good to inject a little new blood around here (just not, you know, literally).
It was black when I woke up. It was black when we tumbled into the car, and remained so as we wove our way through across the department of Escuintla and parked our car in the private lot near the beach. Even the sand was black, though I admit this is more a function of geological phenomena than the hour. We were there; where was the sun?
Not wanting to imagine how cold the ocean would be at 6:00am when my baths were barely tolerable, I decided to just put my toes in.
Ah, glorious, glorious water! It was a perfect temperature, perhaps even a little on the warm side. This of course did not clue me into the temperatures likely to appear later in the day, when I’d be too busy keeping my pearly dermis and the 200 degree sand from becoming formally acquainted. As an addendum, volcanic beaches, colored black due to the volcanic rock, are really cool. I had seen a few while studying abroad in Greece, but this beach was truly jet black. With my toes snuggled into the sand, it was not dissimilar to them being in rich soil.
The waves were big, I admit. At their point break (thank you for the vocab, Keanu Reeves) they loomed perhaps 5 or 6 feet above the water, which was around my neck line. It would have been great surfing if, you know, I had brought a board…or knew how to surf. Still, were they security alert worthy? I will not comment on this. I have recently become aware of how touchy Peace Corps bureaucrats can be over statements not in line with their official message (Solidarity, JR*). My official statement, if ever given, will suggest that the Peace Corps is concerned with our safety, perhaps even more so than my own mother…Or a hen.
We spent the next several hours frolicking in the water, running out to catch our breath, then returning to chill our charred feet, stopping every so often to exclaim how it must be time for dinner but was really not yet 10:00. When a socially acceptable lunch hour finally occurred, we went to a comedor (independently owned restaurant) a stone’s throw from the water for a meal of fried fish (skin and head still on. Sorry Nemo…), rice, and the ubiquitous corn tortillas. It was good, I admit, but it couldn’t compare with the almost mythical memory I have of eating fresh garlic shrimp by the kilo in Mexico, now almost a decade distant. Then again, what can?
I won’t bore you with the details of the rest of the day, but it was mostly more of the same, just with more mangoes and fewer repetitions of the word “black.” I will comment that my almost depressingly severe farmer’s tan has been balanced out somewhat. Lobster pink is not a good look for me, though you will be relieved to hear that I temporarily put aside my aversion towards sunscreen and applied liberally, for all the good it did: I expect to peel within the next few days.
The only other things worth mentioning is that I successfully delivered my final taller (tie-AIR; lit. “workshop”) on Friday, which lasted about 2 hours along with Allison and Kata from San Lorenzo, and now am that much closer to becoming a full-fledged Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV). Also, starting Wednesday I will be going on an Independently Directed Activity (IDA), which is a very fancy way to say I will be going to Huehuetenango with Kyle A., a great friend from my training group, where we will basically relive Field-Based Training (FBT). Am I overloading you with acronyms? Well too bad. Welcome to my life, the life of a PCT-about-to-become-a-PCV-in-the-502.
As always, here are this week’s photos: https://picasaweb.google.com/sigrinj/Week10?authkey=Gv1sRgCLnbkujk6IO59gE#
* “I MAY NOT AGREE WITH WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY, BUT I WILL DEFEND TO THE DEATH YOUR RIGHT TO SAY IT.” -Voltaire
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