Birthday Abroad

Well the big 3-0 has come and gone...

And honestly it was kind of a bittersweet day. Of all my days on the road, I missed my family and friends the most on June 13. I wondered what sort of crazy party I would have planned back home and all the people I would get to see and celebrate with. I reminisced about my birthday celebration the prior year, which included mechanical bull riding, shots out of a plunger handed to me by a midget, and gangster rapping at the karaoke bar. And that was 29. Surely 30 would be on a whole 'nother level! It was hard not to be a bit bummed. I had just arrived solo into a new city the previous week and only a small handful of people had gotten wind that it was my birthday. But that small handful of people included my host family that I was staying with.

Let's backtrack to the week prior, when I came home one afternoon to find Vilma (Mi Madre en Xela) cooking up something special. The smell of ripe Guatemalan bananas and the whirl of the kitchen-aid mixer filled the air. Intrigued, I made my way to kitchen for some investigation. Vilma was in the zone. Without stopping to acknowledge me, I watched as she meticulously measured out ingredients and added them to the mixer, eyeballing the batter as she went with no recipe in sight. She moved deliberately and without hesitation. Clearly this was not her first rodeo. Maintaining a safe distance, I quietly spectated until there was a break in the action, at which point she explained that it was a friend of her son's birthday and she was making him a banana cake. Mmmm. She then went on to tell me that she was somewhat of a professional cake maker and proudly showed me a book with photos of all of her creations. Amazing. Soon I was hovering directly over her, front and center watching her make magic, and around the time she began whipping up the homemade frosting I decided I had seen enough - I had to tell her. "Vilma...yo tengo un secreto", I whispered over the steady hum of the mixer. After a few seconds she clicked off the mixer and looked up curiously. "Que?", she asked. "Es mi cumpleanos el proxima semana" I whispered back with a grin. "Ahhhhhh que dia??" she asked, with a bit more excitement than I was expecting. Matching her energy, "Jueves!", I said proudly. She fixed her glasses as she quickly glanced up at her calendar and asked "El trece de Junio??" Grinning, I nodded to confirm. Her face lit up. "El dia de Santo Antonio! (a holiday in the Catholic religion) Es lo mismo dia que mi Mama!" she exclaimed as she threw her hand up in the air for a high five. "Si!!??" I said - "Vamos a tener un grande fiesta!" 

I couldn't believe it. My birthday was the exact same day as her mother's. We were going to have a heck of a celebration.   

The actual day itself was kind of uneventful. I got some happy birthday wishes from a few people at the school which was cool and there were some bombs lit off in the Central Park in celebration of El dia de Santo Antonio, which rocked the city (they don't light fireworks here, they light bombs). We celebrated Vilma's mother's birthday at lunch time which was a lot of fun and I spent the afternoon reading all the emails and facebook messages that I got which was really cool, and one of the highlights of my day. 

Finally, it was time to head home for the big celebration. The whole family was there including the other two students, Frank (aka Paco) and Buris, who were also living in the house. Vilma prepared her special tamales which she makes for everyone on their birthday, which were delicious and supposedly good luck. Then, the moment we had all been waiting for had arrived, as the cake made it's long awaited entrance. It was fully decked out with fruit and icing and looked incredible. 

Before long the candles were lit and we were singing away! One a side note, the spanish version of the Happy Birthday song "Feliz Cumpleanos" is way longer than ours. Whereas we have one single verse, they have three or four. I'm not sure that all the verses are mandatory, because there were a couple instances where the song had seemingly ended only to have someone break into a whole other verse and everyone join in. The song seemed to build and build, with each verse sung more enthusiastically than the last. It was really quite fun, and the awkwardness that normally lasts 20 seconds in the US lasted forever as the song carried on and on.

Finally the song ended and I quickly blew out the candles as was time to cut into the cake! Or so I thought. "Necesitas morder!" they yelled. "Muerdes, muerdes!". I had no idea what they were getting at, but they were insistent. I figured they meant cut the cake so I grabbed the knife and as the blade inched closer they franticly screamed no. Confused, I looked up as Guillermo, the son, explained necessito morder, as he motioned to take a bite out of the cake. Apparently this is a tradition, and if you don't do it before you cut into the cake, it means you will have bad luck for the whole year, and no way did I want that! So like a good sport I lowered my head down and just as I was about to take a big chomp, my whole face was being smashed down into the cake. 

I slowly lifted my head up, disoriented, to the roar of laughter and delight and couldn't help but smile. They got me. Really really good. And in that moment, as the laughter carried on followed by hugs and high fives, smiling ear to ear beneath a layer of frosting, I thought to myself - this is a really special birthday.       

So a birthday that was a somewhat bittersweet, ended on a very sweet note - literally, with a celebration that I will never forget. 

And then the Heat pulled out a game 4 victory. 

Feliz Cumpleanos a mi!

 

P.S. - Somewhere out there, there is footage of all of this, and as soon as I get it I will post it up!

I had arrived.

Hola Amigos! 

I'm coming at you today from Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, having just spent the last two weeks in Antigua. Here's how my first day played out:

After a rather uneventful flight, I arrived in Guatemala City on Sunday, May 19 and quickly hopped in a cab bound for Antigua. It was all a blur so far, that morning in the airport (flying Spirit) as well as the previous day, running last minute errands and getting all my stuff together. A bit stressful. I arrived in Antigua around 4pm and was introduced to my host family, who I would be living with for the next two weeks as I attended spanish school. It was a bit awkward at first, as I was not able to engage in much of any verbal communication beyond "hola" and "gracias", but they were very warm and welcoming nonetheless. I slung my bags into my room for it was time to do some exploring! Based on what I had read on the internet, and the multitude of warnings given to me by my mother, a newfound expert on safety precautions specific to Central America (Hi Deb!), I cautiously left the safe confines of my home. I left my backpack in my room because it might as well be a bullseye to opportunistic thieves. I took only a small amount of money with me, spreading my credit cards into different pockets in preparation for the likely event that I was robbed. I consciously adjusted my body language to look as confident as possible and tried to appear as if I knew exactly where I was going, hardly pausing to take in the scenery. Wouldn't that be a dead giveaway to the robbers and thieves lurking in the shadows? Ok, I wasn't that paranoid, but some of the stuff I had read on the internet forums did cross my mind as I took my first forray into the streets. I was bound for El Parque Central, the central park that I had seen a bunch of pictures on online when researching Antigua. Apparently it was a few blocks from my home, and seemed like a safe place with lots of other people. 

It wasn't long before I was completely lost. My pace quickened a bit as I realized I had no idea where I was going and no clue where I was in relation to either the park or my home. Cars blew by, drivers hidden behind tinted windsheilds, without a split second of hesitation for crossing pedestrians. I froze each time a feral dog darted past, wondering whether or not my last tetanus shot was still valid. Probably not. Every guy I passed in the streets seemed like a shady character, capable of ripping me off in an instance. But as I weaved my way deeper and deeper into the maze of cobblestone streets without incident, I began to relax and enjoy the scenary. Indigenous women dressed in colorful garb balancing baskets on their head, kids laughing and chasing each other in the streets, and people generally going about their merry way, uninterested in a lost gringo mulling about. As my perspective began to shift and I started to embrace my new surroundings, I stumbled upon El Parque Central. 

After weeks of reading up on and scrolling through google images of Antigua, I was finally seeing it with my own eyes. Right in the middle of the park is the iconic "Fuente de los Sirenas" built in 1738. As the gentle splash of the fountian came within earshot, the sirens drew me in. As I drew closer, everything around me seemed to slow down, and then there I was. It was no longer a picture of a place far away, an idea, or an image in my imagination. Nope. I was standing right in front of it. And that was the moment it truly hit me - I was really doing this. I had arrived. 

Shit just got real.  

    

                                  

I hung out at the park for the rest of the afternoon, taking it all in, and chuckling to myself about what a crazy / awesome idea this whole thing was. I had no idea where it would ultimately lead me, but it had officially begun. And I was ready. Estuve listo. 

    El Parque Central - buzzing with activity

    Live indigenous music

As the sun began to set I decided it was time to meander back home. I found my way back without too much hassle, but as I slid the key in, turning it round and round, the door would not budge. Several minutes passed as I stood there messing with the key - turning left, turning right, without any luck. I knocked a few times but no answer. Annoyed, I took a step back and began to wonder if I was at the right place after all. It was just a door on the side of the street, and they all looked the same, one door after another. My gut told me I was at the right place but as I stepped back up to the plate and struck out once again, I began to seriously doubt it. Sunlight was fading and it would be nearly impossible to find the place if this wasn't it. Really?? Just then, a girl accompanied by a local man walked up. Turns out it was another student living at the house who had also wandered out and gotten lost, only to be helped back by a friendly local. We messed with the keys for a few more minutes and then bam! Door open. Victory! We introduced ourselves and shared a laugh over the situation. And just like that I had made my first friend. 

I made my way up to my room, plopped down in bed and reflected on what was a monumental day.

It was going to be a great trip. 

Back on the Grid

Estoy Vivo!

(I'm alive)

And although I've been meaning to crank out some posts over the past couple weeks, one thing that has been a nice change of pace, and something I have been quick to embrace is the overall scarcity of internet connection. Something that densely saturates the air back home is somewhat of a luxury down here, at least in Guatemala. And where you can find it, it is frustratingly slow, web pages fail to load, and if you want to watch a youtube video, you better start loading it before you go to bed and hope for the best when you wake up. But I must say, blowing everyone off for a couple weeks has been great. And part of me is a little bummed that this new school I am studying at for the next two weeks has a solid connection and thus I am drawn back onto the grid (at least for for the time being). 

That said, over the next two weeks I plan to put out several posts, including some awesome video footage from my time in Antigua that I cannot wait to share with you all!

Talk soon!