Sugar crisis

One of my favorite things about Xela is that everyone else is as crazy about sweets as I am. Ice cream, donuts, chocobananas, and my personal favorite, churros stuffed with condensed milk. Delicious.

But this is all in danger! Some kind of deal was made with the trade unionists in Mexico that has resulted in the sugar price there rising dramatically. Clever speculators in Guatemala have bought up all of the sugar here and are taking it north where they can demand a higher price. Everyone is afraid that sugar will stop being available or the price will rise here, too, so are buying up sugar as fast as they can. My bakery hung up a sign that they will only sell 1 pound of sugar per customer. What is going to happen to all of my favorite snacks?!?

Note: I am not blaming the Mexican trade unions for this situation, I am sure they are still paid far below what they deserve.

Chilifest and beyond

It has been a busy week, so I am back from neglecting this blog. We are now in Quetzaltenango, Guatmela's second biggest city and the cultural capital of the country. This is definitely my favorite place we have been--lots of music, cool bars, big festivals for the soccer team, and more interesting travelers than we have met in other cities.

I am volunteering at TRAMA Textiles a woman-owend cooperative in the western highlands. The association was formed after the civil war to try and create a form of income for women, most of whom had their families killed by one side or the other during the war. There is a shop here in Xela, a weaving school, and they export their weavings to stores in the US, Canada and Europe. I work with Ampara and Oralia, the president and VP respectively, at the office here in Xela. Their work is totally beautiful and this week I started my own (far less impressive) weaving project. If anyone is looking for a shoddily made scarf please let me know.

Since the previous volunteer coordinator left on Friday and I speak the best Spanish of the volunteers I have become the default volunteer coordinator for the next few weeks. I am writing a newsletter, organizing the women's trip to the US for a conference next month, and trying to connect with more stores and organizations. It's pretty hard for them to get big orders, maybe because they are competing with a zillion other textile coops throughout the Americas that do fairly similar work. They also don't have Internet in the office, which makes it annoying and complicated to communicate with anyone outside of the country. On Thursday night we had a Chilifest benefit dinner at a really cool new bar to raise some money towards Internet and other infrastructure needs. People really liked it and it was nice to get to cook for a big crowd.

For the next few weeks I will be at TRAMA, Eli will be in Spanish classes, and hopefully we will go on lots of pretty weekend trips. I really like it here and wish I could stay for longer. We shall see...

Learning in San Pedro

This week we are in San Pedro la Laguna, a bigger town also on Lake Atitlan. Eli and I are taking classes at Cooperative Escuela de Espanol and staying with a very nice family. It´s good to have some structure after a week of wandering around. I am, again, struggling along with the subjunctive but feel like I may finally figure it out. My teacher is super interesting and involved in lots of community projects. On my first day of class we talked for a long time about recycling and environmental problems around the lake. The mayor has been taking steps recently to try and improve the water quality, including prohibiting people from removing sand from the lake (they would use the sand for construction, but the sand is needed to filter contamination in the water). He also ordered that new construction projects must leave 10 meters of public lake access in front of their building. This rule came about after local people objected that all of the beach was taken up by hotels and restaurants. Last year, a hotel wanted to build right up to the water. People were angry, and so tore down the construction. The owner rebuilt, the people tore it down, the owner rebuilt, the people tore it down....finally he got the point and left the beachfront open.

The family we are staying with is super interesting. They have hosted students almost constantly for the last 9 years. Rosa, the mother of the family, is very proud that the money they earn through hosting has let them put their kids through private school and the eldest has finished school and now is a nurse. Her husband Domingo used to work in the fields but now has a post with the municipality, on a commission to improve the city. He has big plans for the next two years of his position--to build more roads, expand access to electricity, and maybe even to build a larger market.

Down the hill, through the enchanted forest, past the holistic center....

These were the directions from a cheerful 7 year old as we arrived in San Marcos la Laguna and attempted to make our way to the hostel. We had a dreadful trip from Antigua to San Marcos. Lessons learned--when you ask someone if the bus goes to San Marcos and they say yes, they actually mean the bus goes to a town where you will switch to another bus, then ride on the back of a truck, then take a pick-up to get there. The best part of the day was when I heard our last driver gave me a price and then whispered a cheaper price to a little kid in the car. Busted.

San Marcos is kind of a hippy commune built onto the edge of beautiful Lake Atitlan. At some point someone decided it has a special spiritual energy, and so has become a center of classes and opportunities for meditation, yoga, and falafel. I went to a talk one afternoon by the owner of the hostel on Mayan cosmovision and learned that my next Mayan birthday is April 16 and I was conceived on a day with lots of creative energy. There is a complete separation between this touristy area and the Guatemalan town farther up on the hill. Eli and I generally ate our meals in town, and people seemed surprised and a little confused to find us there. Not really my scene, but the swimming and views of the lake were spectacular. Other highlights include teaching the caretaker at the hotel how to play Uno, watching some workers cut down a tree with a machete, and a delicious chicken dinner.

Nos llegamos en Guatemala!

After a busy and rainy week in Florida, finally the day of departure came. We arrived in Guatemala City on Tuesday afternoon--the flight in was beautiful, over incredibly green plains and tons of mountains. We hightailed it out of the city and came to Antigua, our destination for the last few days.

Antigua is the old colonial capital and is a clean, quaint town with a big central park and pretty colorful houses. The city has been rocked by 4 or 5 major earthquakes in the last two hundred years, the result of which was the government getting tired of rebuilding and so eventually moving the capital to Guatemala City. There are awesome ruins all over town of churches that have been destroyed and rebuilt over the centuries. Pictures will come later when I find a faster internet connection.

Antigua is surrounded by a bunch of volcanoes. Yesterday we hiked up Volcan Pakaya, an active volcanoe about an hour from the city. Pakaya is a plant that used to be all over the volcanoe and had some kind of medicinal property. It´s pretty much gone now. The hike was straight up hill for a mile or so, and the last part was over lava rock from an eruption five years ago. As we kept hiking, suddenly it became extremely hot under my feet. Arturo, our guide, cheerfully announced that was the hot lava flowing! Thanks to the lack of regulations in the Guatemalan tourist industry, as we reached the top we got to stand directly next to hot, flowing lava. Awesome. Some Israelis had purchased bags of marshmallows from kids at the bottom of the volcanoe and roasted them over the lava. The sunset and then we hiked back down in the dark. One guy from our group wandered onto the wrong path and came down on a different side of the volcanoe. But don´t worry, he´s in the Army and boasted that he has excellent night vision.Today we wandered through the ruins of the Church of San Francisco, much of which is dedicated to Brother Pedro Betancourt, a Franciscan monk who opened a school and hospital for the poor. People still pray to him and leave offerings to ask or give thanks for better health.

It feels great to be somewhere new and surrounded by Spanish. Tomorrow we leave for Lake Atitlan for some days of beach and then a week of Spanish classes. Hasta luego!

Son of a gun/I'm gonna have some fun/On the bayou

Thank you, Hank Williams. Last Thursday we made our way to New Orleans. We went through the Delta on the way there, home of good music and lots of crosses on the side of the road.

The last time I was in New Orleans was my senior year of high school on a band trip to play in the half time show of the Sugar Bowl. The highlight of that trip was the all-band dance, when a kid in the percussion section was dancing on stage with a girl from some other school. He danced so vigorously that he pushed her off the stage, in front of approximately five hundred people.

This time was more fun. We drove into the city over a bridge spanning Lake Ponchartrain at possibly it's longest point. The bridge goes from a random city on the north side to slightly outside of New Orleans on the south side—not logical places connected by a bridge. Eli told me that this was a project of the famous Huey Long. The longer the bridge, the more jobs you create, the happier are your constituents! I can appreciate that kind of politics.

The city reminds me a lot of Cyprus; parts are beautiful, colorful buildings with wrought-iron fences and citrus trees out front, and then you come across an absolutely desolate area where it seems little progress has been made since the hurricane. It's like you can be in two different cities and have no idea what's going on in the other one.

We stayed in the spacious and lovely Avodah house. The Avodahniks seem far less neurotic than our New York bunch and are doing some really neat work. We joined them at an awesome show at Le Bon Temps Roule. We saw the Soul Rebels Brass Band, who play there every Thursday. It was every music cliché that you could want—everyone was dancing, a totally mixed crowd, an hour and a half long set without stopping for a break. I could do this every week.

And, I have a new favorite sandwich! I had many po'boys (the best of which were at Domilise's, where a table is hard to come by even at 2pm, see picture below) but the king of all bread and meat delights is for sure the muffaletta. I would like to take this salty-squishy-briney sandwich on a picnic to the beach one day.

Oink

Pork consumption total since Tuesday night:
-Barbecue ribs, three times
-Pig ear sandwich
-Smoked bologna sandwich with slaw
-Pulled pork sandwich
-Country ham for breakfast

Fortunately for my health we are moving out of pork country.
For further details on our meals, check out Eli's blog, Critical Dunce.

As neither Eli nor I know anyone in Memphis, we decided to give couchsurfing a try and connected with a resident of the de Cleyre coop. Somewhere between 10 and 15 residents, plus many temporary travelers, make up this fun and eclectic group. They were having a tie party for someone's birthday when we arrived, so we donned our ties (which someone had generously pre-tied into a Windsor knot) and spent the evening talking with people about life in Memphis.

I always thought Eli was strangely obsessed with barbecue, but turns out that other people are, too. This was the icebreaker of choice and led to spirited conversations about the best place in town. The abundance of good options meant that on Thursday we had fried chicken for breakfast and barbecue for lunch and dinner. My proudest moment of the trip was at lunch, when I managed to eat more ribs than Eli.I highly recommend the Cozy Corner to anyone passing through Memphis. See the smoke coming out the chimney? That means that delicious things are happening inside.

In between excessive eating we made it to two really interesting museums. The National Civil Rights Museum is attached to the Lorraine Motel, where Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. The exhibit starts with a moving film about the Memphis sanitation workers strike and the days leading up to the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. The strike had one of the most powerful slogans in recent history: I Am A Man. Ultimately, the workers won, but only got a 10 cent raise.

After going through the museum you go across the street into another building. This used to be a hotel and was where James Earl Ray stayed. You don't actually go into the room from where he shot Martin Luther King Jr., but are in a simulated room exactly next to it and look at a window towards the balcony where he was standing when he was shot. This felt both creepy, voyeuristic, and detracted from the message of the rest of the museum—remembering the civil rights struggle and trying to connect it with the problems that continue. Outside the building we saw a protester with signs asking people to boycott the National Civil Rights Museum. His signs stated that this was a $10 million tribute to the assassin and reminded people to “STOP worshiping the past START living the Dream.”

In the afternoon we visited Stax Museum of American Soul, focusing mainly on Stax Records. The grew from a little garage operation to making Memphis music famous with people like Otis Redding, Isaac Hayes, Sam and Dave, Mavis Staple, on and on. They really emphasized hiring and developing people from the community. They taught sound engineering, let people audition when they needed a new backup musician, and had a record shop where folks could browse and talk about new hits from Stax and other studios. Great music.

In addition to tasty pork and a rich cultural history, Memphis is home to the world's third tallest pyramid.

The trip begins

We drove through the uninspiring landscape of southern Illinois. I love the Midwest, but this is not its greatest feature. Scientific studies have proven that this part of the country is actually flatter than the average pancake.

We knew we were in St. Louis when we saw the giant arch. I always thought that the arch was going over something, like the Mississippi or a highway. Actually, it's just in the middle of a park alongside the river. I'm a little confused as to how it is “The Gateway to the West” if you just go alongside and not through it, but in any case it is extremely shiny and impressively tall.

On Tuesday we visited another major St. Louis landmark, the Anheisur-Busch plant. We learned the horrifying statistic that 50% of all beer sold in the United States is an Anheiser-Busch product (includes Budweiser, Michelob, and Natural products). The second best part was the Clydesdales. Adolphus Buisch's sons presented him with the first set of Clydesdales and a wagon to celebrate the end of Prohibition. They made some of the first post-Prohibition deliveries of beer in Memphis. The company got through Prohibition with wink-wink-nudge-nudge sales of “baking products” like yeast, barley, and hops. Needless to say, those first deliveries were made to political allies of the company.


Meet Jake. He is a GIANT Clydesdale, 1 foot taller and 600 pounds heavier than all of the other horses. Since he can't fit with any of the other horses on the hitch, he only goes out for single-horse events and spends the rest of the time hanging out in the deluxe stable. This isn't so bad—there is a chandelier from the World's Fair and Tiffany glass windows. I hope my home is one day so nice.

The best part of the tour was that afterwards we got free samples of premium Aneiser-Busch products, like Shock-top, a Belgian white with citrus, and Bud Light.

Everything I own fits in a Chevy Cavalier

That isn't exactly true. Much of what I own is in a boxes, piles, and shelves around my parent’s house (thanks Mom and Dad!). But since last June I have repeatedly discarded all unnecessary belongings, filled the car, and set out for a new home. This recently acquired habit of leaving places after four months has brought me from Brooklyn to Vermont and then Minneapolis.

Now, once again, the trusty red car will take me and my dear Eli on a road trip to Memphis, St. Louis, and Florida, before what I hope is an equally-trustworthy plane brings us to Guatemala where we will spend the spring. After that, I will move somewhere for the summer, and likely somewhere else for the fall.

The US postal service can barely keep up with my requests for mail forwarding. I invite you to follow my travels here.