Xelafer 2010

Brendan Scott

It’s time for the fair again!  Or at least it was a couple of weeks ago.  Millions of Guatemalans, or at least thousands, risked the mud caked roads to come to Xela for the fair.  Going to the fair is one of my favorite fall activities down here in Guatemala.  Okay, we don’t have a real fall, but it has been raining so much I feel a bit crazy.  I love the fair because of all the colors, dangerous rides, and suspect food.

A trip to the fair could give you a bad case of the squirts, or just kill you.  The video of the ride I posted above is called the Tagada.  I have tried to describe it in my past blogs about the fair, but words can’t describe craziness.   The video below shows the classic Guatemalan Ferris Wheel.  I would like you all to know that it is powered by a foot generated tractor, and if you lean to far forward while on the ride you could fall out! I know you just can’t understand how insane this fair is by reading my words.  Only pictures and videos can help.  So I hope you all enjoy.

Dance Lessons

Brendan Scott

Have you ever had an idea? Not just any normal idea. Here, let me give you an example of a normal idea.  A normal idea would be something like the idea you had when you hopped out of bed, looked at yourself in the mirror and realized it’d been a week or two since you had shaved or showered and it was time to groom yourself.  People have those types of ideas all of the time.  I had that very idea not too long ago.  But I’m not talking about those types of ideas.  I’m talking about something more abnormal.  I had an abnormal idea a while ago.  I wanted to make a dance video for my little sister.  It was the day of her prom night, and when I woke up that morning, I knew she needed some of my show stopping moves I’ve created down here in Guatemala.  What would her night be like with out the fist pump, the front fight flare, the hand foot shuffle, or the nameless wonder?  I didn’t want to find out so, I picked out my song, the Black Eyed Peas’ I Gotta Feeling, and threw down some of my best dance moves.  I knew her night was going to be a once in a life time memory making event.  She would no longer be the new kid, but the girl with the amazing dance moves.

Normal is boring.  That’s why I stepped forward and said, “what,” to normal.  This video was a whimsical, crazy, abnormal, but not boring, idea.  An idea no sane or normal person would have allowed to go further than his or her brain.  But, because of this idea my little sister knows how to dance.  I could have locked myself in my room that day and done something else, like shower and shave.  That wouldn’t have created a memory.  Sometimes following a hair brained idea is the best thing to do.  Like, if I hadn’t decided to share this video, none of my readers would know how to dance or laugh; sharing’s a good thing.  But, even more so this dance video is an example of not living with fear.  My moves might not be the shit, but at least I put them down.  At least I have a fun memory with my little sister.  And it just took a couple of steps and then I was doing something new.

Empty Churches

Brendan Scott

The Catholic Church in Antigua was built at the height of colonial power.  From the outside it looks grand.  It was first constructed in the 1500’s and then rebuilt in the mid 1600’s.  However it was completely destroyed when a volcano erupted just outside of Antigua in the 1700’s. If you visit the beautifully rebuilt city, you will see the front edifice of a grand old cathedral.  It’s the focal point of Antigua’s central park; its steeples still scraping the sky. For a few cents you can tour the insides of the old church.  As I walked into the ruins, the first thought that popped into my head was, I hope the people of the church, God’s church, aren’t in shambles on the inside like this old cathedral.

God calls the people who believe in him his church and as a community of believes we are the body of Christ.  A body doesn’t function well if it’s insides are all messed up.  I know this from experience.  Over the last year and a half I have been sick numerous times and it sure is difficult to work when you have a fungus growing on the inside.  The wrecked inside of the church was a beautiful sight.  The roof had collapsed ages ago and all the old pillars lay in piles.  It was like walking through a building that had been bombed.  While the ruins were a beautiful sight, I hope that no one ever walks into a functioning church and thinks, “wow this looks like a fall out zone.”

While these pictures show the Cathedral’s beauty, I’m sure this wasn’t how the building’s architect envisioned it looking 400 years after it was built.  And as beautiful as the people of the church may look at times I’m sure God envisions more for us each day.

Miedo no Mierda

Brendan Scott

The other week I had my creative writing class read through a chapter from Anne Lamott’s book called Bird by Bird.  The chapter, Shitty First Drafts, details the importance of just writing, even if it is bad at first.  My goal was to help my students understand that it is okay to mess up with their writing, and with their lives, because you can always go back and edit.  And while you cannot change your past, Christ’s forgiveness acts as the editor’s pen for our lives.

Anne Lamott’s believes that writers need not try for perfection because it only leads to failure.  First drafts are meant to be bad.  The first time we do something it might not be that great, and in her words even a little “shitty,” it’s okay, because at least we are getting words down on the page.  And when we type those words onto the page, it shows we are trying and when we try we grow as writers.

Anne Lamott believes, and so do I, that this principle is true in life as well.  Our attempts at life can sometimes be considered grand failures.  When I was young I loved to draw, but no one would consider my drawings art, well maybe Picasso fans.  I expected too much.  I didn’t allow for correction.  When I was a little older, I stopped drawing because I was afraid of the results.

But if we live in fear we cease to live.  If we are too afraid to dream grand dreams, then we live empty lives.  And an empty life is meaningless.  Donald Miller, another one of my favorite authors, believes that a meaningful life is like a good story.  He says, “A character who wants something and overcomes conflict to get it is the basic structure of a good story.”  So, I have set out a new goal before me.  I am not going to live my life with fear.  Conflict and strife will happen and when I overcome that antagonism, I will have lived an element of a good story.  But first I cannot be afraid to struggle.

I was telling this to my spanish teacher during one of my lessons.  The rain was pounding on the roof of the little coffee shop we’d met at and she was telling me how she is scared of walking in the rain.  And how she always is afraid for me when I walk at night.  (Now a quick side note here, this was all in Spanish.)  The Spanish word for fear is miedo.  Not to be confused with the Spanish word for shit, which is mierda.  So as she was saying how she was afraid of walking in the rain, I decided to say I don’t live my life with fear.  But I said, “Yo no vivo con mierda.”

Shocked, my Spanish teacher told me to be quiet.  Clueless, I repeated mierda a couple of times thinking I was correctly saying the word for fear.  But the look on her face told me this was not so.  Instantly I realized what I had said, and busted up laughing.  I’d said, I don’t live my life with shit.  Which, might be true, because most of the time I am too scared to mess up.  Yet, I mess up with my Spanish all of the time.  And when I do, I learn.  I now know the difference between miedo and mierda.

What am I getting at here?  I believe I need to start living my life con mierda.  I need to be more willing to mess up.  Like Anne Lamott says, just get the words on paper.  Just say the wrong thing.  ‘Cause with the grace of God, I can set out each new day with a blank page.  I must go out and capture my dreams.  It may be messy at first, but as I go along, my shitty first drafts of a life will turn into pretty damn good stories.  And a meaningful life is filled with good stories.  And good stories have mess ups along the way.

Feels Like Home

Brendan Scott

Two years here. I feel more at home than I ever thought I would. I’ve been packing my things to got back to the states for the summer. It feels weird to leave, yet I should already be home. A volcanic eruption closed the airport last Thursday, which canceled my flight. And then on Saturday the 29th a tropical storm rolled through the country. As of right now over 100 people have died because of tropical storm Agatha.

Here in my city the streets have dried out now, but on Friday night and Saturday the streets had turned to rivers. I stayed indoors as the rain fell on Saturday, but Friday night I got to see some of the early flooding first hand. I have lived here for two years and have experienced harder rain, but nothing that consistent. As I walked home from the graduation party, I started remembering the first time I walked around the city by myself. I had gotten lost trying to find the soccer stadium. Everything seemed so foreign. But now I felt comfortable. Even though it was nearly 2 am and the streets were flooded, I felt at home. I knew which streets would be on higher ground and so I zig zagged my way home keeping as dry as a tropical storm will let you. I felt relatively safe, if anyone wanted to rob me in that rain, man they could have my stuff. I made it home safely, but drenched to the bone. Two years ago I wouldn’t have ever done that.
Now Xela feels like home, and so when I read about all the people who have really suffered because of these storms, I hurt. A mudslide killed four somewhere in my city. The road that leads to my school was nearly underwater. The street I lived on last year flooded. These are places I know. These are people I know. Yet, my weekend was spent packing to go home. To Colorado. I was supposed to fly out on the 31st, but Pacaya erupted and changed everything. Having a few extra days in country has been difficult. Yet, I have realized I have made some real connections here; my students and a few friends outside of school. And that makes me excited for my return trip in August.
Please keep Guatemala in your prayers.

Doctor’s Orders

Brendan Scott

I’ve spent my entire life in the doctor’s waiting room. My mom used to think I should be a doctor, because I was constantly in and out of the doctor’s office. But then again every mom wants her son to be a doctor. Thing is, I hated being in the doctors office. The magazines are always out of date.

Unfortunately, life here in Guatemala is hard on the body. Over the last two years I’ve had parasites, fungi (they aren’t fun), amoebas, intestinal infections (dropped 10 pounds in a week), bronchitis, strep (this may have been a misdiagnosis), and a bladder infection which may’ve been caused by kidney stones. The latter was the hardest to diagnose. Or maybe it should have been the easiest, but the problem with going to doctors down here is that my Spanish isn’t that good yet and most don’t speak English. Do to all of my random illnesses, I have been forced to read out of date Spanish magazines. And with all of these visits to the doctor I have learned a lot, maybe even earned my medical license in professional patientry. My mom’s dream of me becoming a doctor might’ve died on the emergency table, but I’ve gained a wealth of information I’m willing to share. So drop your copies of Better Homes and Gardens dated from June of 2001 and enter my office of knowledge and read my top ten things I have learned while going to the doctor.

10. If you didn’t understand what the doctor just said in English you probably wont understand what he is about to say in Spanish, so don’t respond with a yes to any of his questions. If you do, you might end up with a shot in the butt that you didn’t need.

9. When you have an appointment scheduled for 8am on a Saturday morning, don’t show up until 9am. Because, just like any social function in Guatemala, where no one is expected to show up until an hour after they tell you to, the doctors wont even show up on time. (For exceptions to this rule see #3)

8. Now, you’ve wised up and decided to bring a translator to your next appointment. No more shots in the rear, right? So, If your doctor tells your translator that you have a strep infection in your bladder (can that even happen?) and ignores the questions about kidney stones, you’ve been warned. But then after your appointment if he is talking to your boss and changes his apparent diagnosis to over working out, it’s time to change doctors.

7. Always bring a translator, always. Or when making your payment to the doctor, always request the proper receipt. This also applies when you buy your medicine at the pharmacy. Guatemalan Insurance companies can be difficult.

6. I’ve always thought doctors are supposed to be experts on physical health, but Guatemalan doctors don’t seem to be much into physical fitness. They believe that working out and staying in shape will harm your immune system and result in random illnesses. I wonder what med school they learned that in.

5. Always say a prayer when you have a bladder infection and are having an ultrasound on your bladder and have been asked to drink a lot of water right before the test and you feel something warm leaking down your leg.

4. If asked to do a 24 hour urine sample, don’t drink a ton of water the day before or you might need another gallon jug.

3. The exception to rule number 9. If the doctor’s lab says they close at 5 pm, then they close at 5 pm. In Guatemala if they show up late it’s okay but if you show up late you just need to come back the next day.

2. If you know a doctor speaks English, go to her for a check up. She probably wont misdiagnose you like the doctor who only pretended to understand English. And if you’re lucky She might also try to set you up with a doctor friend of theirs that wants to practice English!

1. Don’t pull your pants down until the doctor tells you to. Spare yourself from the awkward situation of having your pants around your legs and the doctor not needing to check anything down there for another five minutes.

Don’t Worry Be Happy It’s Spring Break!!

Brendan Scott

“A day at a time is long enough to sustain one’s faith; the next day will have its own cares.” Life Together by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.”

I love traveling to new places, seeing new countries, which is part of the reason why I am teaching here in Guatemala. A long trip can cause a little stress. Over Semana Santa (Easter) this year I made it all the way to Honduras. It took over 16 hours to make it there and I was a little nervous about how the week would shape up. I had doubts about going because I didn’t want to be the only one not scuba diving.

Due to a random canon ball dive accident, which ruptured both of my eardrums, I can’t scuba dive. The ear, nose, and throat Dr. was shocked when I told him how I’d jumped off of a four foot ledge, straight into a pool, and ruptured both of my eardrums. After a year long healing process, which involved transplants of cigarette paper and the fat from my ear lobes, I was able to dip my head under water, but the Dr. ordered that I never scuba dive. So, with all of my friends scuba diving, I was worried I would be bored with nothing to do.
Yet, when I arrived on the island of Utila, all of my worries melted away. It was so hot any desire to move around evaporated on sight. I knew that all I could do was relax. I’m positive that it’s impossible to feel stress on an island. Island life seems to be the the embodiment of life the way Bonhoeffer believes we should life. One day at a time and no reason to stress. And yet I had reason to stress.
First, the place we’d contacted for housing had double booked and the rooms were slightly better than an outhouse. The girls raced off to find another place to stay. For some reason I knew we would be ok. Jon, my roommate, said he would watch the luggage if I wanted to go help find a room.
During my search, I met an incredible woman named Minnie. She owned one of the hotels I checked out. From the onset I could tell her faith was strong. I asked her about her rooms and she said, “I don’t make any money here. I just give everything away.” She explained that she lived day to day, trusting God would take care of her. As I sat and talked with her for about fifteen minutes, I realized I needed to try and live my life day by day. Unfortunately, her hotel was full and my search came up empty, but I knew that everything would be alright.
As I walked back to where Jon had been watching my luggage, I didn’t expect him to be gone, but he was. Apparently, while I was gone the girls had returned. Having found a room they left with Jon and the luggage. Unfortunately, they left no note to tell me where they’d gone. Now I was lost on an island without any way to contact my friends. I knew I should feel at least a little stressed out, but I found that an impossible feeling on the island of Utila. So, I wandered down the main street, knowing everything would be alright. Ten minutes later I was with the rest of my group. Lorin, one of the girls, stepped out of a tienda with a Dr. Pepper in her hand, which she gave to me, and told me they’d found a great room for us to stay in for the week. The fact that everything worked out so well made me wonder why people worry so much. Stress shouldn’t just vacate on vacations. Minnie didn’t just live day to day trusting in God because she was on vacation, no her life was on that island.
The rest of the week was amazing. I went snorkeling, which I’ll talk about in another blog, and God showed me time and time again that I didn’t have any reason to worry. I took my vacation day by day and I hope that I can make that happen back here on the main land. I am glad I decided to travel all the way to Utila. I just wish I hadn’t worried so much about the trip, but hey, let worry, worry for itself.

Bank Error In Your Favor Collect $200!

Brendan Scott

What would you do if your bank gave you $200 by mistake? What an extraordinary gift to receive. I’ve been listening to a sermon series from Lifechurch.tv on blessings. The pastor is talking about all that God has bestowed to us and how we need to offer something back in return.

I went to the bank one recent Monday to cash a check for 170 Q, which is about 20 dollars. I was thinking about the bank giving me my money. I mean Jesus said it’s better give than to receive. But I’ve always wondered about the person on the receiving end. I mean by receiving the gift he is in turn blessing the gift giver. This makes me think receiving is equally as good, or something like that.

Guatemalan banks give and receive money every day, but I doubt they are blessed because they’re rather corrupt. A little corruption took place earlier that same Monday when I walked into the bank to cash the check. There was a huge line at the door, similar to the lines that trailed outside of movie theaters when the original Star Wars movies were rereleased. This line was galactic and growing. I slid into line like a bum waiting for free food. I was hungry and wanted to be out quickly. The guard at the door must have known this because he came up to me and asked me what I was doing. I explained to him (in Spanish) that I needed to cash a check. He told me to move over to a much shorter line. I had a feeling he was wrong, but what do I know. I’m only a gringo. Hesitantly I moved over to the other much shorter line. As soon as I reached the bank employee, she made it clear that I was in the wrong place and needed to hop back in the other line, which’d doubled in size. Ok, maybe that’s not really too corrupt, but I stormed out anyway.

I walked up to another bank, which is pleasantly never busy, and close to my gym. It was almost five p.m. when I arrived inside the bank and all of the cashiers were starting to close up. There were a few people in front of me, but no galactic line, so I waited patiently. Shortly a cashier called me over and I handed her my check and my passport and we shared a few moments of awkward silence. I never really know what to say when I’m cashing a check. Yep, that’s my signature. Oh, yeah my passport picture is horrible. Yes, I would like to take you out for coffee (only if they’re cute and a girl). But typically I let the silence consume the room like a heavy fog.

“1 mil y setenta cientos?” she asked.
Confused I nodded and said, “si.” She proceeded to count out the money. Why was she counting out so many 100’s? How much was my check really for? Well, she probably knows what she’s doing anyway. So I just said, “Gracisas,” and headed out for the gym.

 
But the money felt heavy in my pocket. Had I done something wrong? The cashier was the one that counted the money and she knew her job better than I do, but maybe she’d read the check wrong. I kept walking. Had she really said Q 17,000 (about $200 more than I’d expected)? In the game monopoly you get 200 dollars if you draw the card that says bank error in your favor, maybe I’d drawn that card in real life. I tried to walk as casually as possible, but I felt like there was a huge sign on me that read “Money!!! Take my Money!!” My pace quickened and I could have sworn a police truck was following me. Finally I dashed into the gym, rushed up to the locker room, and counted the money. Yep, she’d given me way too much. I knew there wasn’t anyway the check I’d cashed had been for that much.
 
So, what do you do when the bank gives you too much money? By the time I had counted the money in the locker room the bank had already closed. I could give some of the money away, pay off some small loans, buy my self some cool new toys.
But, what would that say about me? I’m reading a book that talks about how writers create true characters and he says that characters are defined by the choices they make and true character is revealed by the choices a character makes under pressure. I felt a lot of pressure to keep the money.
Or I could give the money back in the morning. I mean the bank would probably take the money out of the cashier’s paycheck and she probably only makes 1,700 Q in a month. I can’t take someone’s salary. I don’t want that to be a chapter in my story.
 
It’s funny all of the excuses you can come up with when you don’t want to do the right thing. Some of them even sound right. Like giving some of the money to a beggar on the street. Yet, in the end I knew I had to give it all back. God wants us to give him 10% of what he has given to us not out of what we have taken from others. The sermon I listened to challenged me to give what I have. I gave the money back the next day and it made the cashier very happy. I guess by returning that money, I was making her life a little better. I’m glad I did the right thing. I want that to be my story.

Spanish Slip Ups!

Brendan Scott

Just the other day Isa, one of the 8th graders, exploded with laughter. It was my fault. I seem to be very good at making my students laugh. Not because I’m a great stand up comedian. No, that would probably mean my classes were entertaining.

Most of the time my students laugh at me for things I don’t understand. Like one time I was at a birthday party. A group of 8th grade boys, they’re in 9th now and much more mature now, were asking me questions in Spanish. They couldn’t control their laughter. Apparently I was saying yes to a bunch of ridiculously inappropriate questions. They still haven’t told me what they were talking about and now I know not to say yes to things I don’t understand. 

My Spanish has improved greatly from that night when I may or may not have said yes to liking certain really gross things like cats or butterflies (I am just guessing here). Yet, I still have slip ups.

I was in my Spanish class a couple of weeks ago and Letty, my teacher, asked me, “Do you have a girlfriend here in Guatemala?”

I chuckled and answered with a sad, “No.”

“Are you looking for one?” She responded quickly.

“I have friends who were helping me,” I said stifling a laugh.

“Who?”

“The secretary at my school said she would look for me.” Or at least that is what I meant to say, remember all of this is in Spanish, the only part I was sure of was when I’d responded with a sad no. What I actually said was, “Yasi is good looking for me.” Letty started to chortle and at first I didn’t really know why. Then I realized what I had said and a hard long laugh erupted from deep in my gut. After I regained my breath I explained to Letty that my secretary was just my friend and that I wasn’t interested in her because she’s married and has a child. Now every time I go to my Spanish classes, Letty gives me a hard time. At least Letty didn’t hear my next slip up.

So, why did Isa laugh? Well, it was lunch time and I was on duty down in the middle school building. I was making my rounds through the building. Checking on the students, just the usual. Isa was sitting by the microwaves with her friend Danitza. These girls love it when I make a mistake with my Spanish and so sometimes they try to bait me. But I was being careful. It didn’t matter. I set the trap for myself.

Isa had a Pizza Hut box and so I asked, “Are you having Pizza?” Earlier this question worked to get me a slice of Pizza from one of the 6th graders, but this time I received a “I’m too cool for this,” response, which I guess is the difference between a 6th grade boy and an 8th grade girl. But then I looked at the box and realized my error. She wasn’t eating Pizza, she was eating a Calzone!

I love those. So I said, “Nice Calzone. How is it?” Isa and Danitza looked at me and then their laughter started to build like a giant title wave.

“What did you say, mister?” Isa replied.

“Calzone,” I stated cautiously, what had I done wrong? They started to laugh harder and wouldn’t tell me what I had just done. All I could do was stand there confused, but then Isa tossed me the second half of her calzone. She must have been feeling sorry for me, but not sorry enough to let me in on what I’d just said.

Fortunately Yasi, my secretary who I am not interested in, was able to help me out. After stifling a laugh she explained to me the error of my ways. In Spanish Calzone pronounced Kal-zown means women’s underwear. I’d just asked my 8th grader if she was eating girl’s panties.

Twenty-Sixth Birthday!

Brendan Scott

On the day I turned twenty-six, just hours before my small celebration, I nearly died. This marks the second time I nearly died on my birthday. The other being the day I was born. I was premature and almost didn’t make it past the delivery room. I am very fortunate that the doctors knew what they were doing and were able to save my life. But on my twenty-sixth birthday, if not for one of the millions of speed bumps here in Guatemala my fortune might have changed. Speed bumps, or as they are called here tumilos, are actually illegal in Guatemala. But that doesn’t stop people from erecting them in front of their houses. Most small towns along the Pan American Highway have at least one tumilo for ever person living in the town (not kidding). Typically I curse these stupid speed bumps. But now I owe one my life.

It so happens that the tiny one way street I walk down every day on my way home from the gym only has two speed bumps, well one full one and one that’s been chiseled away by annoyed motorists. I’ve walked this street manny times, it’s almost second nature. So, on my birthday I was thinking more about being twenty-six and what that meant for my life than my walk home. It’s funny what a birthday can make you think about. Thoughts of future relationships and the desire to start a family drifted through my brain. A glimpse of my life as a writer floated in front of my eyes. Right now I am teaching in Guatemala, but at twenty-six is that where I want to be for another year? Can I find what I am looking for down here? Do I want to go back to school and could I do that while I’m living here? Just teaching was okay for twenty-five, but the passing of another year sure makes me wonder. So, I was deep in thought and rocking out to Snow Patrol when I decided to cross the street.
The traffic for the one-way street is supposed to come up the street towards the gym, the opposite direction I was walking, so I could watch the on coming traffic. As I was about to cross the street, a car turned up the street so I adjusted my pace accordingly and stepped off the sidewalk to cross before the car sped past me. Unfortunately here in Guatemala one way streets are really just a suggestion. Like flossing or changing your oil, no one really does it. I should have known that a car would be coming the wrong way on the one-way street. But I was to busy enjoying my birthday. So, I stepped out on the street and, Wham! Whack! However you describe being rammed into by a car and flung into the air. I landed on my feet a couple of yards away from the car. Instantly I started pointing with my index finger at the car, trying to help him realize that he was going the wrong way. Then like a spike being hammered into the train tracks I realized I’d just been blindsided by a car, on my birthday. Is this what I want out of my life? As I stood shaken next to the curb the car zoomed off and I was left to walk home with a sore knee, hip, and elbow.
Why didn’t the accident do more damage to me? Was my health my birthday present from God? The car had just crossed over the speed bump and started to speed back up when it nailed me. These speed bumps might not be legal, but I am sure thankful for the one that helped save my life. The rest of my birthday was great. And I am very thankful for all of the Birthday wishes I received. Here’s to turning twenty-six and having a shot at turning twenty-seven!