Highlights from Jarabacoa: treinta y seis temblores (36 small earthquakes)

At the top of Picaya!

I don’t know if it was the earthquake that woke me up at 6 am this morning or the marching band that is currently strolling down the street at 10:15 pm, but I am reminded once again that life here is constantly full of excitement. In fact, I have been woken twice this week by my bed violently shaking as if I were on a ride at Disney. By the time I finish this post, there will probably have been 10 or 15 more fireworks shot off, making sleep a futile endeavor. In between, the church bells will surely clang, with little regard for the accurate time . Although today is a festive day, “the burning of the devil,” these noises really aren't out of the ordinary. Fireworks explode daily, sometimes as early as 5:30 in the morning and parades happen for little to no reason. Bells chime at odd intervals and the ground shakes due to increased volcanic activity close by. It's happened 36 times in the last two days! When things do quiet down for the night, I often hear the small, grumblings of an volcanic eruption. These are some of the things to which I have grown accustomed.

The church I live near. They celebrate daily with fireworks!

Twice a week, I've started going to the gym here for pilates class. Except for the occasional piyo (pilates- yoga) class in the states that I attended (solely because my friend was the instructor!), I have little experience. Nevertheless, I was determined to prove myself capable. This would have been a worthy goal in the states, but following instructions in Spanish has provided added challenge. I understand most of the directions, luckily, but I’m not sure our very passionate instructor, Carla, knows that. If I am not holding my foot high enough, she will come over to me and continue to repeat the instructions, assuming that I am not understanding, when really, my foot is as high as it can possibly go! I’m hopeful that the more I attend, Carla will discover that my natural abilities are low, or better yet, maybe I’ll improve!

Christmastime in the park!

This year, I celebrated my first Thanksgiving out of the country. It was different celebrating a holiday not recognized by many people here! I spent the morning in school, where my teacher asked me to explain the origins of Thanksgiving, in Spanish of course. Luckily, I paid some attention in elementary school and was able to give some background on the pilgrims and such. (I was really missing Wikipedia at that moment!) After class, my friends and I braved the chicken bus once more (see earlier post if confused :) ) and went to the Kids Alive home for girls to celebrate with them. They were just as puzzled about the holiday as my teacher, but were happy at any excuse for a party. A team from the states was down visiting and decided to make us a traditional (southern style, denoted by the saturation of butter and sugar) thanksgiving dinner. It was so special to share the day with the girls at the home once again and to be able to eat a turkey dinner! I went home completely full, only to celebrate once again with other friends and crepes. I arrived home after two plates of thanksgiving dinner and a large banana, nutella crepe only to realize I was just in time for my host mom’s dinner. It was too late to tell her I was no longer hungry and so I indulged once again. What’s thanksgiving without a little gluttony?

Living in a foreign country provides many opportunities for making a fool of yourself, and I am definitely no exception. This occurs most often in my day to day Spanish. Last Sunday, while trying to ask a waitress to split our check in three ways, my friends and I actually asked her to help us do the math and figure out what each of us owes. Mortified, we had to watch the poor girl stand at our table with a paper and pen, calculating out each meal, tax, and tip and adding them together! I immediately realized our mistake, but the damage was done. Later in the same week, Spanish got the best of me again, this time worse. My host mom takes care of us so well here. She stripped our beds to wash the sheets and I really wanted to thank her for doing so, but as you can guess the word, “stripping,” is not used in Spanish for “changing the sheets.” Luckily, I have learned not to speak Spanish when I’m tired and did not see my host mom in time that day to share my gratitude or I might have thanked her for stripping for me! Although I am thankful I didn't speak this one aloud, I am reminded of the practice I still need!

My host mom gave me tickets to see this ballet!

Shower update: Thanks to all of you who sent advice on how to conquer Latin American showers. Unfortunately, the problem was not fully mine, as the water heater in my shower had never worked since I got here. And in my orphan “I can do it myself” mentality, I decided not to tell anyone in my host family that there was liquid ice coming out of the faucet. I really just thought that cold water was a normal part of life here! When they did find that out over lunch on Friday, they were horrified and ran to the store to buy a brand new shower heater. They have now paused at every meal to ask if there is anything else I have neglected to tell them for the last five weeks. I live with the best people!

My clean clothes are always returned looking like a present :)

This candle in my room makes me a little uneasy...

I finally got my chance to hike an active volcano here in Guatemala. There are many volcanoes near Antigua, but only two of them are extremely active. Don’t worry, Mom, there are sensors placed all around the volcano to notify the park of activity and ensure our safety. The one I climbed, Picaya, last erupted about eight months ago. The lava recently dried up so I wasn't able to see any, but the dry rock was still very hot. We brought some marshmallows and were able to roast them successfully on the hot coals. The scenery on the way up was surreal. I posted some pictures below of the three volcanoes surrounding Antigua. One of them, Fuego, was blowing out smoke all day!