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Zombie Tag and the Top 10 Things I’ll Miss About Guatemala

Brendan Scott

What will I miss about Guatemala?  Not much-A whole lot.  How ready am I to live in the states again?  Very-Not at all.  You may have guessed it, I’m a mixed bag of emotions about my departure from Guatemala.  I will miss the slower lifestyle.  I love how in Xela I can walk from my gym at one end of town to my house at the other end in twenty minutes.  I hate how on a rainy day the streets fill like rivers and cars swerve to splash through the puddles just so they can make sure I absolutely do not make it home dry.  Even though the cars splash me, I still enjoy Guatemala and it has become my home.

Here is my top 10 things I will miss about Guatemala:

  1.  My students constantly trying to make me repeat after them in Spanish. “Mister, burros dice que . . . ?”  If you repeat something quickly enough I guess I’ll say what.
  2. The ayudantes (the driver’s assistants who take all of the payments on the chicken-bus or microbus) constantly trying to help me on and off the minibus, as if after three years I still didn’t know my way around Xela.
  3. The risk of buying cheap movies on the street that the vendor promises are in English.  Will it be in English?  I hope it wasn’t filmed in the theater.  What?  It’s in Russian?  At least they’ll exchange the movie for another one if it doesn’t work.*
  4. The constant attention from the shoe shine boys in parque central.  No, I don’t want my shoes shined, can’t you see I am a gringo and I wear sandals all of the time?
  5. Taking my pre-kinder students out to the basketball court to play with the hula hoops and the boys fighting over the more manly colored hoops.  “Yo quiero azul!!”  Or how one very little boy always wanted the small “ula ula” because, as he said, “Yo soy muy chicito!” It’s hard to take these boys seriously when they’re trying to claim to be manly and really little all at the same time.
  6. The lack of safety rules in Guatemala.  “Oh you want to go and roast a marsh-mellow on that lava flow?  Absolutely, and I’ll take your picture!”
  7. Playing Wii ping-pong with my friends and co-workers until late in the night.  (Only on nights we had power.)
  8. Playing Zombie tag with my Kindergarten class out on the basketball court at the Inter-American School.  They love trying to eat each other’s brains.  And their pronunciation of “Must Eat Brain” always made me smile.  Just say, “mustefrain” and chase your friends around like a zombie and you can play Zombie tag too.
  9. Listening to it rain.  The cars may swerve to hit the puddles so they can splash me and other walkers, but the sound of rain drops hitting the rooftops is mesmerizing.
  10. My students.  Hiking with them up La Muela.  Challenging them to become better writers, students, and people.  Having them challenge me to be the best I can be.  They made my time in Guatemala truly an adventure.

Not mentioned in this list.  The many dance parties.  And how my students love my crazy dance moves.  All I want is for them to learn to let go a little and have fun no matter what.

A few things I will not miss.

  1. Being over charged on a microbus, not to mention over stuffed, (I’ve been packed in one of those 15 passenger vans along with 35 other people).  Yes, I am a white North-American, but that doesn’t mean I have to pay more than everyone else.  It’s 1.25 Q for a microbus ride anywhere in town, just incase you’re interested.  I learned to always pay with exact change.
  2. Trash, trash, trash everywhere.  The mentalities of “oh we have someone to clean that up for us,” or “this plastic is biodegradable, right?” are really hurting Guatemala’s natural beauty.  I might start a relief cause “Dumpsters for Guatemala.”
  3. The slow and often inconsistent internet.  Man, I would love to check out that video of Justin Bieber, but unfortunately my internet isn’t fast enough.  I guess I’ll just have to miss it. (read with a hint of sarcasm.)
  4. Never knowing when the lights will come back on.  It’s been out all night for the past two days.  I’m glad I hadn’t really wanted to Skype with my family back home.
  5. How difficult it is to fly out of Guatemala.  Weather is always a problem here.  I’ve been delayed because of snow storms (yes, these storms were in the US), volcano eruptions, tropical storms (Agatha!!!!), and random thunderstorms.  Not to mention the fact that when you live in Xela you always have to drive to  Guate the day before your flight, which makes everything a little more drawn out.
It would have been very easy to come up with more than five things that I wont miss, but it also would have been even easier to name more than 10 reasons why I will miss Guatemala.  I have come to love this country, even with all of it’s quirks.  I am going to miss the country and even more so the people dearly.  Thank you for the past three years.
 
 
*I know it’s illegal, but when living in another country it’s hard to see movies any other way.  Plus it helps out the local economy.  And if the dvd doesn’t work you can go back and exchange it for another one.  No questions asked.

Brendan verses La Muela

Brendan Scott

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La Muela sits outside of Xela (Quetzaltenango, Guatemala) like a giant molar waiting to grind out puny little hikers like raw meat.  During the dry season, a hike up to La Muela, which isn’t the summit of the actual mountain, but the main destination for day hikers and therefore I refer to it as the summit from here on out, is a quick but challenging trek that offers a beautiful view of the city.  During the rainy season, hiking La Muela is a completely different monster.  It is best to start the hike early in the morning, as the skies can almost be guaranteed to dump rain anywhere from 12 o’clock on.

On tuesday the 7th, my plan was to start climbing early so I could avoid the rain.  I had invited some of my students along and had asked them to be at my house at 9 am.  Maybe I should have asked them to be there earlier.  Only Hugo showed up at 9, but I wasn’t too worried, Guatemalans are typically late and I was following Michael Slocker’s (my brother-in-law) statuses on facebook, because Katie, my sister, was at the hospital about to give birth to Lincoln, their second child!!!

Finally by 10 o’clock everyone arrived and I was pulled away from my computer scene.  I only found out later that my nephew was born at 7 pounds 7 ounces.  He’s going to be a John Elway fan for sure!  As we headed out of the house I should have pushed my fellow hikers, Jose Pab (otherwise known as Little Pablito), Sani, Skyy, Marcos, Skippy, Hugo, Juan, and Dani (the only girl to brave the trek), to take a taxi up to the beginning of the trail, but the boys wanted to hike the entire trail, which includes a good section on the road out of Xela up to Almolonga (an outlying town).  Cars speed up and down this steep road, but the boys ran up it with a fearless attitude only boys seem to have.  Dani kept telling me that I was trying to kill her.  So we hailed a taxi as soon as we saw one, which wasn’t very soon.  He charged us an exorbitant amount, for the distance he took us, but it was worth it.  I could tell Dani didn’t want to walk up that road much further.  Most of the boys decided to hike the entire way, so we waited for them where the dirt trail leaves the cobbled road.

We pushed our way up past the random soccer field that sits at 9,000 some odd feet and then climbed up the rocks that would soon be slick with rain.  As we climbed higher, the clouds dropped lower.  Shortly before noon we were enveloped in a cloud, it was dry, but I could tell the rain was on its way.  As the cloud draped itself around us, several of the kids mentioned how it made them feel like we were on the moon.  I felt more like I was on a volcanic adventure.  In fact the rocks that make up La Muela used to be part of a volcano, which exploded, littering the terrain with giant volcanic rocks.  We were in a different world than the one we’d hiked out of a couple hours before.  We’d left behind houses and busy streets.  We were now all alone.  Just us and nature.  The cloud made it feel like God wasn’t even there.

But we climbed higher and the cloud drifted away.  Like children freed from the watchful gaze of their parents we clambered up toward the summit of the molar.  The tip of La Muela is a sharp volcanic rock that juts toothlike up into the sky.  Often Mayan worshipers can be found offering sacrifices at this tooth like structure.  They climb from grass to boulders to the tooth to reach the top.  On the 7th we didn’t climb to the top to offer any sacrifices to the Mayan gods, yet I wasn’t sure with the thunder growing louder that we might be sacrificed anyway.

“Let’s get out of here,” shouted a couple of the kids as thunder cracked right above us.  “NO, I need a picture to prove we were here,” I replied as I scrambled to the sharp summit.  We snapped our pictures and began our descent.   To make it down from the summit rock climbing skills are required.  Some of the kids were a little nervous about this part of the hike.  I made sure I stayed right behind them and showed each where to place their hands and feet.  I love helping people challenge themselves so they can reach goals they never thought possible.

Climbing down off of the summit was hard, but all of them made it.  And I think because they challenged themselves they now know they can do more than they thought they could before.

As I stepped down from the rock we’d all just descended the rain started.  It started slowly but it was consistent, making the rocks as slick as a Guatemalan politician’s hairdo.  While we were off of the summit we weren’t down yet.  The rocks bellow the summit almost form a rigid crown around the molar creating a natural burier.
We decided to continue our descent through a small hole in one of the rocks in the burier.  Normally I go around the burier, but the kids wanted an adventure, so we ducked down between the small opening in the rocks.  I had forgotten that going through this crack was a bit trickier than the way we had ascended.  Skippy, Dani, and I made it through the crack, but the other boys backed out.  Skyy, Hugo, and Juan and flat-out disappeared and I had told the other boys, Marcos, Pab, and Sani, to descend the way we had hiked up, which would mean they would meet us on the other side of the crack, but as soon as I made it through the crack I realized they had not followed my instructions.  So as quickly as possible I leapt back up the wet rocks to find where the boys were.   As I reached the place I had last seen them I realized that Marcos’s group had followed Skyy, Hugo, and Juan.  I spotted them bellow going in the opposite direction from which I had told them.  I shouted down to them through the rain to come back up and follow me, but they refused.  Wet and needing to go help Dani and Skippy I told them to meet us at the soccer field.

Hikes always go awry as soon as people split up.  I knew things could spin out of control if I wasn’t careful.  Fortunately Dani, Skippy, and I made it to the soccer field safely.  Sani, Pab, and Marcos sauntered out of the woods opposite of us about 10 minutes later.  Relief.  We called Skyy to find out where they were on the mountain.  “Oh, we’re already almost home,” replied Skyy calmly.  We stood perplexed.  How did they make it down so quickly.  We made our way down to the road in the rain and waited for Susan, Skyy’s mom, to pick us up so we wouldn’t have to walk for another hour in the rain.

As I stood under the cover of a little tienda, near the trail-head, waiting out the rain, I started thinking about how much I am going to miss these adventures.  My hikes up La Muela have made the mountain familiar, yet each time it surprises me with a new fun challenge, like hiking it in the rain with a group of crazy kids.  Although, I think the kids challenged me more than the rain.  That’s why I am going to miss the relationships I have forged over the last three years more than the hikes.  As I have spent time with them, inside and outside the classroom, they have challenged me to become a better teacher and friend.  Hopefully these friendships will last as long as the mountain we climbed.  The rocks may move during each earthquake, and it’s rather scary when they do (I know from experience, but that’s another story), but I know these friendships will last the next shake up in my life.

How To Surprise Your Sister

Brendan Scott

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My little sister just graduated from Chatfield Senior High School in Littleton, Colorado and I was there to celebrate it with her!  Over the last three years, as I have lived in Guatemala, I have missed my fair share of family events, but not this one.

The other week I hopped on a bus to Guatemala City and caught a flight back to the States, all without my little sister knowing.  Here is what she wrote on my Facebook wall two days before the big surprise, “Brother.  It’s time for you to come home.  I miss you.”  To which my response was, “I miss you too.  We have a month until I return.  Think you can wait?” I hope God will forgive me for lying to my little sister.

If you ever want to surprise someone lying is a must.  In the weeks leading up to my flight home, I had to lie to Emmy countless times.  We’d be Skyping, me sitting in my room with my suitcase ready to be packed, and she’d complain about the fact “no one was coming to her graduation,” which wasn’t true.  My cousin Luke and his fiancé were flying out for the graduation and to take her to see U2.

Little did she know that all of this was my idea.  In order to surprise my sister I had to lie and threaten to kill people if they told.  That’s how much she means to me.  The plan was hatched in my mind late last year.  Plane tickets were high and I knew I couldn’t go home for both Christmas and Emmy’s graduation, so I decided I would …. fly home for Emmy’s graduation.

Purchasing my tickets was a debacle I will write about in another blog, but Emmy was worth it.  As I landed two hours late due to a major thunder storm in Denver, I was nervous Emmy would find out.  I didn’t call my dad for fear she would be with him.  Fortunately my parents were able to trick her into going over to a friend’s house and so we made it to Stueban’s, her favorite restaurant, and waited patiently for the surprise.

Surprises can make life difficult, and this one had me about as nervous as a litter of kittens in a pet store.  I wanted it all to work out.  All of the planning and all of the time would have been for not if one person would have slipped up.  And we all had our slip ups along the way.  While Skyping with Emmy the Sunday before I was to fly out, she was telling me the menu for her party and I said, “Oh we’ll be eating good.”  Fortunately she was oblivious of my slip up, because as she walked into the restaurant her face filled with confusion.  “Am I seeing things,” she thought.  A huge scream broke the confused silence, which was followed by an even bigger hug right in front of everyone one at the restaurant.  Kapla!  (Kligon for success)

Getting to see her graduate was icing on the cake after that hug.  Or was it the silver lining in the clouds.  It rained all during the graduation ceremony.  But a little rain couldn’t dampen my spirits.  I am so proud of her.  She has grown up so much over the past three years.  When I left she was just a little kid.  I’ve missed seeing her grow up, but if I hadn’t gone I wouldn’t have been able to surprise the socks off of her.  Literally they flew off when she screamed!  Ok, just figuratively.

Mother’s Day Twice a Year

Brendan Scott

Tuesday morning five a.m. and an explosion rips me from my sleep.  Who’s birthday is it? (It is common for birthdays to be celebrated here with a barrage of fireworks at the crack of dawn.) I think as I roll over and try to drift back to sleep.  It wasn’t someone’s birthday, it was Mother’s Day.  But wasn’t Mother’s Day on Sunday?

Here in Guatemala, Dia De Las Madres is always celebrated on the 10th of May, and what better way to celebrate your mom than to set off a battery of fire works.  At least I wasn’t woken by a live marimba band at 5 in the morning like I was two years ago on Mother’s Day; horrible.  All morning, as I taught PE outside on the basketball court, the sound of mothers being celebrated drowned out the screams of excitement from my elementary students.

If you are ever in need of fireworks, you don’t need to drive to the county line because Guatemala has an abundant supply of what you want; even after the firework factory exploded during lunch last week, I had been sitting in the library when I heard a distant rumble.  At first I thought it was thunder, but it was a blue sky day.  Maybe Xela was under attack!  Nope!  The fireworks factory had caught fire due to the heat and exploded.  Sadly, the explosion didn’t limit the amount of fireworks sold to the many sons and daughters in Xela.  My Tuesday morning was one explosion after another.  And fortunately, unlike on Sunday, none of those explosions happened inside of my body.

Guatemalans really know how to celebrate their moms.  But just because in the states people don’t set off fireworks doesn’t mean us, US Americans, don’t love our moms.  On Sunday, I spent most of my day Skyping with my family.  Holidays are hard days for me to be away from my family, I can’t physically walk up to my mom and give her a hug.  As I sat Skyping with  my mom, it almost felt like I was home.  But almost only works in horse shoes and fireworks.  Like I almost regained my hearing after the umpteenth million firework exploded on the Guatemalan’s May 10th Mother’s Day.

I’m glad that my family celebrates Mother’s Day in a more laid back fashion.  As nice as it was to Skype my mom I would rather have been able to be in Colorado and light off a few fireworks to celebrate her in Guatemalan fashion; at least I would have been there.

I love Guatemala, all of it’s quirks and explosions.  It is a unique little country and has really become a beloved second home, but it’s hard to be here during major holidays.  On Mother’s Day I felt the pull to be home so I could spend some quality time with my family for the first time in nearly ten months.  But on the flip side, with a little more than month left here in Guatemala I don’t want to leave.  I want to stay and soak up all of the little bits of Guatemala that I can.  It is hard living with these two desires.  I know I’m moving, but I’ve also decided to live in the present as much as possible, so I am trying my hardest not to think about my move.  I love how Guatemala celebrates their moms and yet I know moving back home will be a great thing; I’ll be able to celebrate my mom in person.  What’s better than that?

How To Be A Heartbreaker

Brendan Scott

My little sister is going to prom.  Last year she was nervous about having fun and so I made her a video.  This year I want to make sure her heart is protected as she is on the dance floor.  My own prom was filled with heartbreak and I didn’t want that to happen for Emmy.  So I woke up this morning and made a video, not just any video, a dance video.  Unfortunately, my internet at my house isn’t fast enough to load a video for sharing.  Fortunately, IAS was open today and so I walked up to work on a Saturday.  I passed many places I had never seen before in Xela, something that hardly ever happens to me after living here for three years.  It’s amazing how beautiful a city can be when you just open your eyes and look around a little.  But anyway, I digress.  I made it to school and then I loaded my video.  Here it is, I hope you all enjoy.

A Day in Guatemala

Brendan Scott

Guatemala, my second home, is a beautiful and diverse country.  It has everything from the beautiful Lago Atitlan, the ancient pyramids of Tikal, the magnificent cascading waterfalls of Semuc Champey, the colonial cobbled streets of Antigua shaded by active Pacaya, and a proud and busy second city in Xela crowned by Volcan Santa Maria in the distance.

When I first came to Guatemala, I expected it’s natural beauty, but I’ve been continually surprised by Guatemala’s economic and educational gaps.  About 69% of Guatemalans older than 15 are literate and according to the CIA world factbook 56% of Guatemalans live in poverty.  In Guatemala the wealthy and educated are very wealthy and, as a teacher I may say this, fairly well educated, but they are in stark contrast to the poor that make up the rest of the country.

On any day in Xela I walk by members of the lower class.  Typically dressed in tipicos (their traditional dress) chewing gum and smiling or laughing with a baby on her back and a basket of corn tortillas balanced perfectly on her head.  She works hard, but is economically just above the handicapped beggars.  Many beggars are missing legs, teeth, arms, or other essential body parts, and are forced to sit on street corners waiting for any change to fall toward them.  Both the girl and the beggar have been forced to scrape the dust of the wealthy for a living, which has not given them the time to be educated.  And without education a person can’t grow.  They are forced to do menial jobs.  One such job might be charging one quetzal (Guatemala’s currency 8 quetzals to 1 dollar) to use their bathroom on the side of the road.

Having lived in Guatemala for three years, I feel like I’ve seem most of her extremes; her natural beauty, her wealth, and her poverty, but often I don’t encounter them in one day.  But that is just what happened during the first weekend of Holy Week.  While on the bus to Guatemala City I saw poverty.  Well, I wasn’t on the bus.  I’d jumped off between Solola and the next town.  My bladder was screaming, so I was thankful when the bus stopped so the driver could grab a snack.  It was 8:30 am and the roadside was teaming with food vendors.  I could tell I had time to empty my body of the Dr. Pepper I’d drunk.  As I stepped off the bus, I saw a little boy in a plain t-shirt, no older than second grade, manning a table in front of what seemed to be a room for bathrooms.  Growing up in the states I still dislike paying for restrooms, but I am sure this kid and his family are doing all that they can for a living, so I payed him the Q and walked past the table.  What I found was not a bathroom, the floor was dirt and it didn’t have a  complete roof (tin topped the stalls so at least if it was raining I could relieve myself and not get wet), but an unfinished section of the building with three old blue wooden doors with three 10 gallon barrels filled with water in front.  Two of the doors were locked from the outside, I’m assuming the toilets behind those doors were broke beyond repair because a dirty toilet hasn’t stopped many Guatemalans from using them, and the third was occupied.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if the bus was still there.  I could see the top of the bus from the natural skylight the boy’s family had designed into their building (it’s fun to look for the positives in these situations).  As I waited in line I realized that the water in the barrels was for flushing (not all of Guatemala has running water).  Each barrel contained a small bucket so the user could tote the water into the toilet and flush down their deposit.  The first stall opened up and I wanted to bolt inside, but the man had to fill the toilet so he could flush.  Ages passed and the line wasn’t getting shorter so I decided to pick a spot in the corner and moistened the dirt bellow my feet.  After making water I turned to see the bus rolling away.  Thank goodness for that skylight.  I zipped up and ran.  I was not the only one running, a few of the other patrons were dashing toward the bus as well.  Fortunately the bus stopped and I climbed aboard and made it to Guatemala City.  In the city I saw extravagance.

After an American breakfast at IHOP, the pancakes tasted refreshingly good, I made it to Oakland Mall.  If my description of the roadside rest stop matched most of your pre-conceived notions of Guatemala, even my little sister asked me when I first moved down here if I was living in a hut, then let Oakland Mall completely destroy those notions.  It is grand; home to an aquarium, a large food court and a beautiful movie theater.  Seeing a movie was the whole reason why I went to Guatemala City.  The VIP movie theater is outfitted with fully reclining leather seats and waiters ready to take your order from a complete menu all for only 68 Q (under 10 dollars), making it the fanciest movie theater I’ve ever watched a movie in.  It felt like luxury meant for kings.

It’s funny how after three years in Guatemala a day like this has come to feel normal.  Most people would experience culture shock.  Maybe I can chalk it up to the dismissive phrase, “Only in Guatemala.”  Yes Guatemala is beautifully diverse, and yes some if it’s extremes need to change, but for now I’m going to enjoy where I live.

Dancing con Aguafiestas!

Brendan Scott

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Quick, name the best dancer you know.  If Brendan, my name, hasn’t popped up into your head, then you’re crazy.  I know how to cut a rug and then knit it back together again.  I know how to shake a leg and then skimmy.  I’m the real Jimmy.  Oh, you don’t know my name?  What?  You haven’t seen my moves.  You don’t know my skills?  I have around 129 views on my dance video (On Youtube).

Sometimes my life can be a little like my dance moves.  I’ll be having fun, the toast of the party, feeling great, and then suddenly a migraine will twirl in and nock me out.  It seems like at every dance party there is a jealous dancer who tries to outdo me, my migraines always try to do the same.  They are aguafiestas (Spanish for party poopers). The aguafiestas I suffer from are Abdominal Migraines.  They’re rare, but they do exist.

Before I spin my gruesome tale of migraines, let’s grind our way through all of the fun that was had celebrating Stephanie and Fernando’s joint bachelor parties at the lake.  Lake Atitlan is about two hours away from Xela, but that’s as the bird flies.  As the car drives it takes much, much longer.  Especially with all of the tumulos (Guatemalan for speed bump, which in Spanish actually refer to the bumps made by burial mounds).  As we drove through the first town off of the Pan-American Highway, located just off of km 148, Fernando’s car scraped bottom.  The little town of San Marcos or Filepe or Lucas or Mateo (or whatever and I’m not sure how it got sainted) has more speed bumps than miracles.  Anyway, Fernando’s car is a small red Nissan and didn’t have the clearance to climb over these pesky paved speed reducers.  Especially not with five people in the car.  Every 100 feet or so we were forced to evacuate the car in order for Fernando to ease the Nissan over the sizable bump.

A three-toed sloth would’ve moved quicker.  We’d start to pick up speed, a blazing 10 miles an hour, and a tumulo would halt us in our way.  So, we’d exit the car as the town’s people stared.  I guess they’d never seen gringos (In Guatemala) practicing the Chinese fire-drill before.  After the 5th speed bump in no less than 25 yards we decided to tell Fernando to drive ahead, leaving us to dance through the cold town.  We passed a church gathering, whose people seemed to be more interested in our dilemma than praying, and several cows who mooed empathetically, knowing what it’s like to walk over all the speed bumps.  The horses and chickens weren’t quite as friendly.  They taunted us with their neighing and clucking.  I was glad to climb back into the safety of that warm Nissan after we’d danced all the way through that little town.

Fortunately dancing through San Juan de los tumulos didn’t bring on a migraine.  Neither did driving down a steep set of switchbacks with near 1,000 foot cliffs on either side of the road.  Halfway down to the lake we had to stop, not for a speed bump, but to cool the brakes off.  If we’d gone any farther the car might have ended under one of the many burial mounds we’d driven over along the way.   As Fernando dumped a gallon or so of water onto the hot tires we danced around like guerrillas in the mist.  I do a great guerrilla dance.   Trust me.

If only the fun had continued into the next day.  Unfortunately, like those fighting guerrillas, the migraine sprung on me like a leaping ballerina by late afternoon the next day.  (If you don’t think ballerina’s are fierce just go watch Black Swan.  That movie was disturbing.)  Anyway, just like Natalie Portman’s character spun from good to bad so did my  trip.

After a relaxing morning in San Pedro, we decided it was time to make our way back to Xela.  Fernando and Stephanie were going to Antigua, so we didn’t have access to the car.   We figured we’d take a chicken buss, sadly the busses stopped running at 11 a.m. and it was now 3.  Our only option was the pay a guy to drive us all the way up to the highway in the back of his truck.  All 11 of us (some had not been as fortunate to sloth through San Juan in the Nissan) jumped in the back of a beat up pick up and we putted off.  It was already crowded and we had a long assent ahead of us, so we only stopped to pick up a few Guatemalans who only wanted a ride to the next town.

Pueblita after Pueblita we subired.  The old truck climbed smoothly until we stalled out in a little town and were forced to watch a parade of tuc tucs.  It was terrible, those slow tucs took tons of time to trek through town, but it didn’t give me a migraine.  The migraine sprung after the truck stalled on a steep incline.  I had been enjoying a magnificent view of the lake when we passed by our fifth hairpin turn and the truck stopped.  We leapt from the truck like graceful guerrillas (ok the girls were just graceful).  With the lighter load the truck roared to life and sped up the hill.  I can run for miles, but dead sprints really kill me, especially when they are straight up hill.  30 yards in I knew I was done.  Several of my friends gracefully leapt back into the truck bed, but I couldn’t do it.  As I walked up to where the truck was waiting for me my heart danced madly in my chest (A typical indicator that an unwanted dancing partner was about to force its way next to me).  30 minutes later as we bounced through San Juan de los Tumulos I tossed my lunch out the back of the pick up.  The migraine had set in.

I made it home with out throwing up again and I can say my weekend was a lot of fun, even though it ended with a migraine, which spun my weekend a direction I didn’t want it to go.  I would have rather written a story about how great of a dancer I am, but I guess you’ll know now that, even though I am an extremely talented dancer, I suffer from migraines.  I am human!  All kidding aside,  I might not be the first person you think of when it comes to dancing, but I guess that doesn’t matter.  Life’s a dance and I’m going to keep on grooving, even if a migraine leaps in my way and splashes water all over the party.

Let’s Get Spiritual: Retreat from Facebook!

Brendan Scott

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What to give up, what to give up, what to give up.  The other week I was reading my dad’s blog as I prepared to take the high school and middle school students at IAS off on the annual three day Spiritual Emphasis Retreat in Reu, Guatemala.  The retreat is a time where we step away from our regular classes and challenge our students to grow spiritually.  It is also a time to get to know the students on a more personal level.  I love everything about retreat, even all of the pranks that the kids like to play.  Anyway, my dad wanted to know what his readers were giving up for Lent.  Typically I only give up silly things for Lent, like lint or I give up on giving up things.  So, what makes this year different?  Spiritual Emphasis Retreat challenged me to take my time with God a little more seriously.  On Tuesday Mr. McNabb (The school’s director who has no relation to Donavan McNabb) challenged all of the students to be salt and light.

Fun fact there are 14,000 known uses for salt and one of the most interesting is that it has to be present in all Jewish sacrificial offerings.  When Jews fast for God they do not give up salt because you cannot give up God, so they continually add God to their lives.

So, I felt challenged to give something up for Lent.  I wanted to feel challenged in my daily life and see how God added himself back into it.  But what to give up, what to give up, what to give up?

As I finished reading my dad’s blog all of the high schoolers and middle schoolers boarded big chicken busses that would take us down to Reu for the retreat.  As we bounded down the Pan-American Highway, sometimes passing slower moving cars when no sane person would pass, I committed myself to leading my students by good examples.  My hope was that they would see God in me, through my actions.  The theme for our time in Reu was New Beginnings.  I believe it’s hard to start anew if I first don’t give up something old.  How can God speak into my life if I am too busy with the daily routine or worrying about who’s commented on my Facebook wall.

And so I tried to put aside thoughts of Facebook, man I hope they like my current status, and tried to enjoy the best thing about retreat; life with out distractions.  Spiritual Emphasis Retreat is a real time to focus on God because, besides all of the blackberries my students have, we are away from it all.  And on this retreat I really felt like we came together as one and did not let our normal everyday routines and addictions hinder us.  I mean it was a challenge at times because I just wanted to know if my little sister was on Facebookchat so I could talk to her.

Fortunately, I really enjoyed leading discussion groups with Hugo, Luis Pe, Oscar, Lenin, Jose Pab, Sani, and Kain.  I’ve taught most of these boys for the last three years and so some of our discussions were very deep.  Like who’s hotter Salma Hayek or Penelope Cruz.  No wait–that was an argument I had with two grown men.  The boys and I talked about our choices and how they affect our lives.  They wanted to know why I have chosen to wait to have sex until marriage and that led into their thoughts on abortion and the responsibilities of being a teen father.  I might not have had all of the answers, but what I tried to tell them is, we all make choices and we must live with the consequences.  I challenged them to be the men God created them to be, which I believe means not backing down from the difficulties life throws at us.

And so how can I expect them to face the big challenges in life if I am not even facing the smaller challenges.  As retreat went by and maybe because I wasn’t getting any sleep (you try to stop six 14 and 15 year old boys from sneaking out of the room to go prank and manage to attain a wink of sleep as well) I felt God challenging me to give up something that I knew would be difficult to live with out; Facebook.  As funny as it sounds it’s a big part of my life and as I write this I am five days into my fast and it’s been difficult.

On Thursday, the second day of retreat, Miss Cromwell, the school’s principal, spoke about how media affects our lives.  Two years ago none of the students had blackberries or iPhones, now they are constantly connected.  I found myself in several conversations about what our lives would be like if we were not on Facebook.

I remember my life before Facebook and now I check it every day.  It has ingrained itself into my existence.  Like James Cameron it directs my daily schedule, yet my life is no Avatar.  I am a real human being who wakes up everyday and checks Facebook; my online life.  I fill my free time flipping through photo albums on Facebook, constantly friending and defriending, liking and commenting, chatting and thinking up witty statuses for people to comment on.  Facebook is a powerful form of media, it might even be how you found this blog.  Media as a whole influences everyone in many different ways, not all of them bad (my blog), but I am not sure I want Facebook to have the influence it has on me.  I do not want to live my life online.

At dinner on the second night I was sitting with Ale, Sharom, Dani, and Gaby.  We were talking about media and the importance of tuning out some of the lies it tries to sell us, what we should look like and what we should buy, and the importance of placing God at the center of our lives.  Right then and there I decided I needed to take a fast from Facebook, and what better time to do it than Lent.  How can I challenge my students to place God first in their lives if I am not willing to do so myself?  Only Ale took me up on my idea of giving up Facebook for Lent.  I am excited for both of us.

Retreat ended and we all went back to our normal lives, but I hope that the little break from normality stirs a desire for change in each of my student’s lives.  I do not know if they have decided to use Lent as a greater retreat and a time to focus on God, but I hope, even if they don’t give anything up, that they do start to add God into their lives in a greater quantity.

Even though we all are now back and in our separate homes and disconnected from each other (not a bad thing, I am enjoying not having to room with 6 high school boys) I hope what God accomplished on retreat keeps us connected on a spiritual level.  I hope my retreat from Facebook helps me realize more of what God has for me.

The worst thing, for me, about retreats is that they end and I go home and have to spend time alone.  Giving up Facebook has only magnified that feeling.  Right now I feel disconnected.  I will publish this blog and it will appear on Facebook, but I wont be able to log onto Facebook to tell people to go read it.  I can only hope people do.  Maybe that is the kind of faith God wants me to have.  He will keep me connected to him no matter what.  My life doesn’t have to be lived online to be connected to those around me.  And so I hope I am able to add a little faith into my disconnected life, which I am now living apart from Facebook.

How Did I End Up Here?

Brendan Scott

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Here I am stuck in the third world.  Three years pinned down with no guarantee of electricity, dry streets, or connection to the outside world.  Maybe stuck and pinned aren’t the correct words, but sometimes they’re the only way to describe how I feel.  I felt stuck at times during my first year in Xela, when I didn’t feel like I had any friends.  I felt stuck when my friends’ weddings passed me by and I couldn’t go.  I’ve missed at least two weddings and one birth; not fun.  And I felt stuck last June when tropical storm Agatha wouldn’t let me leave; all I wanted to do was be home with my family.  It was as if I had my hand pinned between a rock and I couldn’t move, just like Aaron Ralston, who’s harrowing struggle with a rock was the subject of the Oscar nominated movie “127 Hours” staring James Franco.  Fortunately over the course of two and a half years I’ve realized what a blessing it has been to be stuck in Xela.  And after watching “127 Hours,” I’m glad I didn’t have to give up an arm to realize the importance of having a community.  I’ve celebrated three birthdays away from my family and the friends I grew up with, and it’s been hard not having them around.  But it has also shown me how blessed I am here in Guatemala.  I am not alone.

I came to Guatemala as an individual, all alone.  Unlike Aaron Ralston, I didn’t come as a man who wanted solitude, dreaming of living life on my own, but as an individual who wanted to see what life outside of the states had to offer.  From the very start, when I was only 24, I knew I needed people around me to make my life worth living.  Now I am 27 and I feel like I have more of what it takes to be a man than I did when I first found myself stuck in the guat.  I know being a man doesn’t mean doing everything on my own, but having a community to share with.

Most people would say Brett Favre and Aaron Rodgers are men, despite both having played for the Greenbay Packers.   According to stats I’ve read about Brett Favre and Aaron Rodgers, both won their only Super Bowls at 27.  At 27 I have yet to win a Super Bowl.  But who knows I might move back to the states and join the Broncos and win multiple Super Bowls.  If men are judged on what they have done, then am I a man?  Sadly, I haven’t won a Super Bowl yet.  I could win multiple Super Bowls (Be better than Brett and Aaron) but that’s not what would define me.  You know what I have done though, what defines me?  I have begun to write again.  I have decided to go after my dreams, not Aaron’s or Brett’s.  Last month I applied to a creative writing program.  If I am accepted or not, at 27 I know that I am doing what it takes to be a man.  Each day I set out to love those around me in the best way that I can.  Because maybe they need to know that they need someone.  I am adding my life to the community around me and hopefully with a little love mixed in I’ll end up at age 28 stuck right where God wants me.

Here are some of the fun memories from my 27th birthday.

-On my Birthday I was showered with hugs and choruses of Happy Birthday (both in English and Spanish).  I think my favorite gift was when I walked into the elementary lunch room and the Kindergartners jumped up with excitement and started singing to me.

-That night most of my friends, most everyone on the Inter-American staff, came out to have dinner at Don Rodrigos, a little restaurant that serves beer and burgers.  I had a sandwich and an Orange Crush, ha!

-On Saturday night my students, most of the high schoolers, took me out to pizza.  Sometimes the freshmen boys, especially Skyy and Jose Pab, are a little crazy, but they know how to make someone feel appreciated.  And I am grateful for them.

-On Sunday I went ziplining with Jon, Laura, Kacey, Blake, Amy, Fernando, Stephanie, Mike, and Karen at Velo Xtremo, just a few of the people my life has been mixed with.  We all risked our lives and had a zipping good time doing it!

Life would not be worth living if I didn’t have all of you, my readers and my friends in Guatemala, around me.  Thank you for the part you have played in my past 27 years.  Here’s to many more!!

Groundhog Day: Your Life Will Soon Be Gone

Brendan Scott

Like a rolling river, days pass into weeks and weeks into months and months into years and years into decades and so on and so on into the sea.  From the cradle to the grave our lives have a finite number of days.  But what if we didn’t die?  What if like in the movie “Groundhog Day” we lived our lives forever?

Phil Connors, in the movie, must live one day over and over and over again, maybe up to 1,000 years of repeated days.  An eternity.  Phil, yearns for finality.  His eternal existence depresses him to a point where death is preferable to monotony.  (Would we wish for the same?  Or maybe we should take joy in death because it brings us closer to God.) As only comedies can do Phil’s repeated failures at death seem inocent and bring quite a laugh.  But the fact that he wants death is telling.  Just as it is natural for a river to flow down into the sea it is natural for us to grow older and to die.  But because Phil can’t die he must live his repeated day.  And by living he comes to a point where he wants to grow old.  His strongest desire is to change, but to achieve that desire he realizes he must make each day special.  He must begin to love, but not the me first need based love, the unselfish love that places others needs ahead of his own needs.  Once he starts living for others his endless number of days, which must have been terribly monotonous at times (imagine seeing the same people struggle with the same problems day in and day out), become special.  Once he starts living for the people of Punxatawney his attitude toward them changes.  Where there was once hate there is now love.

I know I am going to die someday.  I have not been stuck in some horrible time warp where I live the same day over and over again.  But sometimes my days can feel that way.  My life in Guatemala can feel extraordinary and some times it can just be plain ordinary.  Every Monday I wake up and go to work.  I teach 2nd grade, 1st grade, and then kindergarten PE.  This repeats again and again.  Is my job a stagnate eddy or a river rolling along to somewhere greater, changing me into a better man.  If it is an eddy my job would be pointless.  If it is a river taking me somewhere then that changes everything.  I believe the only way to know is to answer the question Phil Connors asks, “What would you do with your life if you had one day to live?  What do you want out of life?”

I am starting to feel like I have one more day left to live in Guatemala.  I know I have a couple of months, but those months flow right by like a raging river.  My time in Guatemala is finite.  I feel like I need to live each day to the fullest, because a chance like living in another country and learning another language isn’t something everyone is able to take advantage of.  As my days roll by I want to choose to appreciate where God has me, even the small things.

Teaching Kindergarten PE could be very monotonous.  All they ever want to do is play tag.  Freeze Tag, Zombie Tag, Toilet Tag, Turkey Tag, and Santa Tag!  But often it is the highlight of my day.  Little kids know how to enjoy life.  Before Christmas we were playing Santa tag.  Just incase you’ve forgotten the rules to Santa tag, because it’s been years since you’ve played, let me give you a quick refresher course.  You have two taggers who run around tagging the little kids.  Once a kid is tagged he becomes Santa and has to sit down and say, “ho, ho, ho.”  To become unsantafied another kid, who isn’t a tagger or a Santa, has to come up to the Santa and sit on his or her lap and say,” Santa I want a … for christmas.”  The kids are so enthusiastic about this game they drag me into playing it every time.  They always tag me.  They’re fast little tikes.  “Ho, ho, ho,” I said as one of the little girls rushed up to me and innocently jumped onto my knee.  “Santa,” she said with a sweet little smile.  “I want Mr. Scott for Christmas!” How can my days not feel special after a moment like this?  However, it’s not what I can gain from each day but what I can give.  Another time, while I was teaching Kindergarten, I was complimenting each student.  “Nice jump,” I said to one.  “Great half twist,” I said to another, who I am pretty sure was trying to do a cartwheel (If you ever want to brighten up your day ask a 3-6 year old kid to do a cartwheel).  “I love the color orange,” I said to another.  The little girl quickly responded, “I love you.” Little moments like these make my days special, but if I had one day to live would I spend every moment playing tag with the Kindergarten class?

Pretty soon today will be gone like yesterday is gone and who knows what tomorrow will bring, if anything.  Phil Connors never knew which day would be his last to finally get it right and so by the end of the movie he is doing his all to be the best he could be.   Every day we borrow will bring us closer to the end.  So why not live life as if we had nothing left to lose?  I believe this idea is what brought me down to Guatemala and now I believe it is bringing me back to the US.  Guatemala has been the best thing that has ever happened to me (I’ve changed and grown closer to God and made great friends, who could want more?) and I am excited to see what happens next.  Because I know the life God has given to me is special and even on my dull days I know it’s worth living because I have a chance to show love to everyone around me.  And I am not going to waste my chance to love, because life is a day that won’t last for long.