| « | July 2006 | » | ||||
 |
||||||
| S | M | T | W | T | F | S |
| 1 | ||||||
| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |
| 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |
| 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 |
| 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 |
| 30 | 31 | |||||
This past weekend I went back to Santiago Atitlan so that I could talk to the people who would have known Fr. Stanley. On my first trip, I talked to the caretaker of the church where Fr. Stanley was pastor and spent his final night. He told me that it would be fine that when I returned I could talk to some people. He even brightened up when I said I was a distant relative. This is a testament to what I have heard…that the people loved Fr. Stanley so much that even today their feelings run deep for him. From the time I talked with the caretaker I was excited about my return trip.
The time finally came last weekend and I grew ever more antsy as the boat approached Santiago. We walked directly up to the church declining every offer by the little boys to take us to Maximón (see above trip to Atitlan). However, Murphy´s law was in effect: “If it can go wrong; it will.” When we climbed the stairs that opens up to a square in front of the church we saw the remnants of a festival and heard joyful singing bellowing from the church that lay before us. “Oh, Mass must be going on,” I thought. Boy was I wrong…it was a charismatic gathering of teenagers that would last until 2pm. My buddy and I took the opportunity to spend time in the chapel where Fr. Stanley was murdered.
After a while, we left the chapel to wait in the square where I met a man that would be old enough to have been an adult during Fr. Stanley´s patoralship. Yet Murphy´s law strikes again. I think he didn´t understand a word I was saying in Spanish (a problem I have never had here as of yet or after). He ended up taking us to the sanctuary behind the curtain of the teen gathering. There he showed us how the church has honored the five people who first brought the Catholic faith to the people and who paved the way for Fr. Stanley. Afterwards, he led us out of the church, through the group of teens, and there asked for a tip (something that is common to do here). I obliged him since he did show us something that we would not have seen or understood otherwise, but still no stories of Fr. Stanley.
At 2:30pm the group finished, and I entered the church to find the caretaker who I thought might be helping clean up and prepare the church for Mass that evening. Shall I say Murphy´s law again…he was not there and in fact at home from what the first person I talked to told me. The second person, an older woman, did not speak Spanish…only Tzutujil, the language of the people in Santiago. Now the time was nearing for our boat to embark for the other shore (our hotel) so I sadly gave up the search and returned to the docks with my desire unfulfilled thinking maybe one day they will be.
The funny thing is…I will leave Guatemala and two days later a group from Oklahoma will arrive to celebrate the 25th Anniversary of Fr. Stanley´s murder. Though I have tried I am unable to stay here for one more week for the celebration…again to my chagrin. Oh, well like I told everyone: “This trip was in the hands of God. His will be done on it.” And it was.
However, the best meal yet that I have eaten here was that night in Panajachel. Oh I could go on about it for hours, but I won´t. I will just say that the three course meal was well worth the Q287 (about $39) for the both of us.
This past weekend I went with my buddy from Austin to the Caribbean and spent some time in the water. Well acutally I didn't get to far from the coast of Guatemala (50 feet), but it is the Caribbean none the less. The city on the Caribbean is called Livingston where there has been a mix of cultures for many years, the Africans and the Guatemalans, called Garifuna. I am told they even have their own type of food...sounds alot like the Cajun culture. However, I am sad to say that I did not get the chance to try the food, but I have heard about it...very different. Here is a picture from the shore of the Caribbean as well as proof that I was in the Caribbean...you'll just have to take my word for it that the water I am standing in is off the coast of Guatemala at Livingston. That's me on the left.
Our homebase was a town called Rio Dulce (Sweet River), where the water was not sweet. Here I took the oportunity to tour a bonafied castle. Much of it was retaining rain water and denied entry into certain rooms, but I got a good sense of how life was like at the castle. Down the river is Livingston. On the trip to and from Livingston we saw houses and stores like the one below that was actually ON the water. There was not land access whatsoever. We also saw some ladies doing their laundry in their "back yard" (of knee deep water). That was definately a sight I was not expecting to see. They were standing in the water washing their clothes in a wash bin and the line just hung over the water like ours do on land. I didn't feel comfortable taking a picture so you will have to imagine it.
I thought I would share a poem that I saw in the bathroom at the bottom of Pakaya. As you may know, flushing toilet paper down the toilet in Latin-American Countries can be bad. Well the people of the park of Pakaya had something interesting to say:
Toilet paper, floating whole,
In the Guatemalan bowl
Foreign tourist do assume
In the pipes there should be room.
Down it goes, the squishy log
Until we find there is a clog
yes, the route is too narrow
And so the bowl does overflow.
This situation we abhor
To hear the splashing on the floor.
Experience has made us wise
That tomorrow come the flies.
And yes this room of soap and sink
Does indeed begin to stink,
So while you are back in your hotel,
We’re still here, with your smell.
So look down at the basket. See?
It’s there to thwart catastrophe.
Oh use it please, so that we may
Tomorrow have a stench-free day.
This weekend was very busy. I put as much as I could into the weekend that I could. It was a long weekend with a holiday on Friday followed by the weekend. The holiday was not for the 4th of July...my teaching didn't even realize today was our Independance Day. She had forgot that today was the 4th.
On Friday, I climbed Pacaya, which is a volcano near Guatemala City. Well actually I climbed the mountain on horseback. The thin air was the downfall of this sea-level kid. Once at the top and dismounted from the horse I still had about 30 minutes of walking up to get to the flowing lava. Once there the spectacle was something to see. Before us ran a river of lava that was moving directly toward us, but at so slow a rate that many pictures could be taken with little danger as you can see below. Standing that close to molten rock reminded me alot of Aggie Bonfire...it was super hot.
The guide cautiously walked up to the river and stuck his walking stick in the lava, which immediately brought on flames until he yanked it out. When he did it again the stick was too far in the lava to pull out and he had to abandon it else reach into the lava to free it. Needless to say, he chose the former and let the stick become forever part of the mountain.
There was an unusual sight that once you think about it, it makes sense. When we reach the top and were walking on cooled lava rocks, I noticed two dogs lounging around up there. The sight of them made me laugh, but once I thought about it their choice of beds made perfect sense. Where else are you going to have a bed that is warm 24-7-365? When the lava moved too close they merely got up and moved to a different spot.
After returning home, and resting all afternoon and night, I got up for a 4:00am bus to take us to the airport so I could fly, with some buddies to Tikal--a Mayan Ruin. Below is a picture of me atop the biggest pyramid there. The green you see is the tree canopy, which gives you an idea of how high up I am. In the background you can see two other pyramids sticking their heads above the canopy. The view was absolutely awesome. I was rather disappointed that it was raining cats and dogs the next morning, because I was going to go on a moring tour to watch the sunrise and snap a few shots. But I will have to settle for this view and the thought of what the sunrise looks like. The funny thing on this trip was that the who area had electricy only from 6:00am-7:00am, 12:30pm-3:00pm, and 6:00pm-10:00pm...resturaunts and hotel included. Though this conserved electricity, it raised the cleaning bill for the hotel. My bed was like a lake when I woke up Sunday morning from the hot night. It was so hot that a married couple I know may have slept in the same bed, but there was no cuddling going on.
The trees in among the pyramids (or better said that the pyramids were among the trees)...anyway the trees and the rain made the area like a rainforrest. The wild life included a large rodent animal, spider monkeys, many different types of birds including Tucans and turkey looking birds, crickets (3 inches long x 1/4 inch body width), crockodiles and a brown puma. I saw all but the Tucan and the puma of which I am sad only to have missed seeing a Tucan.
The highlight of the week following my trip to Panajachel and the other cities was meeting the priest of the church that I attend daily. Fr. Richard is the associate pastor at La Virgen de la Merced...don’t know the story of this virgin image. Anyway, meeting him was the highlight because he invited me and another seminarian from Pheonix to join him in the Eucharistic procession through the parish. In order to join him, we needed an alb, each... oops I left mine at home. Luckily, there is a convent of sisters that was willing to lend us each an alb and cinture so that we could assist in the procession. I didn’t know what to expect totally but had an idea that Fr. Richard was employeeing extra arms to carry the monstrance with the Blessed Sacrament.
The Mass went according to rubrics... seminarian/priest joke :-) ...without me having to do anything but participate. There were about twenty altar servers all in their red cassocks and surplices. After Mass, we processed throughout the parish with the monstrance. We walked ontop of street decorations called “Alfombras” (you can get a sense of what they look like at this website: http://www.prensalibre.com/suplementos/RYS/ssanta/alfombras.htm. However, the ones we had were less elaborate, but still made from a variety of flowers and other natural items like green pine needles. Every so often the procession would stop at an altar at a house (once at an orphanage) for Benediction. Here the priest took the oportunity to switch the Humerale Vale to one of us so that we could relieve him of the weight of the monstrance...present day Simon of Cyrene’s if you will. I know it’s a far strecth and Father never fell, but you get the idea.
During the procession I got the opportunity to help carry our Lord twice, the second time killed my arms because of the distance. Despite the pain...or inspite of it...the experience was awe inspiring and well worth it. In a way it prepared me for holding the monstrance during Benediction at the seminary this next year.
After the procession I got to spend the afternoon in the luxurious rectory (it has a tv) and eat lunch with the priests and the other seminarians (the one from Pheonix, and three studying for the Dioces of Antigua). I was nice to talk and joke with the priests and seminarians...mostly in Spanish though--what a mind workout.
After it was all said and done and I returned home for a siesta, I realized how beat I was. The procession took everything out of me and left me with just my body lieing motionless on the bed unable to move. If ask to do it again, I would enthusiastically give an affirmative answer.
...
Stay tuned for more from Guatemala...coming soon.
Time to check in…sorry that it has been a while and much has happened since I last wrote something. Sorry, but more pictures will have to wait so that I may conserve space on my blog.
My first weekend came and my seminarian buddy, Brion, and I went to Lake Atitlan and visited four cities there. One of them being Santiago where Fr. Stanley Rother worked with the Mayan people and was eventually murdered by the government. But first information about Lake Atitlan. It is like a crater surrounded by two volcanoes and mountains. It is fed by the water that comes from the rains on the mountains. Also, the mountains come pretty much up to the shore so the towns that are on the lake are pretty much built on the side of the mountain. All the cities, except the main city--Panajachel--can only be reached by boat. One of the ways to make a living on the lake is to fish, but there are only three types of fish in the lake…two indigenous species and black bass that, America, I think, introduced to try and make the lake a hotspot for sport fishermen. What ended up happening was the black bass fed on the other fish and the hotspot never made.
The first town we visited (can’t remember the name) was a small Mayan town that, as all the others, produces textiles by hand in a loom. The dress is particular to this town. The men and women wear a type of skirt with a shirt specific to their gender. The skirt turns out to be a long piece of material that is wrapped around the body at the waste and tied off with a belt. Not much else to say about this little town except a story. When our boat arrived at the docks there was a man about 40 years old soaping himself up getting ready to rinse himself off in the lake. It was interesting, but hey free water for a bath why not?
The second town was Santiago. As we entered the city I saw the corn fields reach all the way to the bank which was interesting for me to see. The city was built on a flatter part of the mountain so that it is easier to get around without getting too winded. Our tour guide brought us to the see the Mayan God, Maximón (mashimon), where we had to pay Q2 (~$0.27) to see him and the men who hold vigil with him 24-7. Maximón is a “god” who was a man pre-Spaniard time who helped the Mayan people out. This God’s favorite things are smokes (cigars or cigarettes) and drink…don’t worry this guy is well older than 21. After this we went up to see the church where Fr. Stanley’s heart and blood are laid to rest as well as the room that is now a chapel where his life was taken. For me, it was quite a moving experience to see this place. I do plan on returning to stay longer and talk with the people about Fr. Stanley to hear their story with him. I have read two books that tell his story; now I want to hear their side. Not much else was done in Santiago this trip, except to see the different dress for the Mayan’s here. The women wear basically the same thing as those in the other town, but on their head they wrap a long piece of material that is 1-2 inches wide around their head ‘til it makes a kind of halo. Men wear vertically striped shorts that are made there in Santiago with a shirt of similar material and a regular type hat.
San Pedro the third town we visited is basically a hippie town now...many came and settled there. That is at least what they told me, because I didn't see many running around. There wasn't much to see according to our guide...we only ate there and saw an avocado tree and coffee tree. The one thing that was interesting was that while we were eating a cat jumped up in our laps several times. I guess it was used to receiving food from diners. Nothing much else exciting happened in San Pedro...at least worth writing about.
Panajachel was merely the city of rest for us. We did nothing but wonder the streets looking for the church and then our way back to the hotel after Mass and supper Saturday night. One last thing about the lake that I thought was amazingly interesting...as we crossed the lake I would look out in the water and see what I presumed to be trash, but later found out was pomace from the volcanos that surround the lake. I had forgotten that pomace is greatly made up of air and thus floats in water...or at least this pomace did.
Finally, on Sunday we traveled to Chichicastenango which is basically a market city...literally. Everystreet within a 20 block sqaure was lined with open air stores that funny enough pretty much sold the same things. As a matter of fact, Brion was looking for a bedspread and we found out that the times people at our store would leave to go get some from "stock" they were really going to get them from other stores in the street. I said nothing as did Brion, but I wanted to laugh so hard. We found a Catholic Church in the middle of all the hub-bub of the market, which was just as busy as the market. People were constantly praying and adding votive candles to special tables or raised platforms--these platforms were only 3 - 4 inches tall down the center aisle of the church so you had to watch where you walked else be in danger of going up in smoke. People would kneel at these platforms and pray as they added their open votive candles to it. Also, there were pray-ers outside of the church constantly with thuribles--insensors--made from coffee cans that kept a constant flow of smokey insense bellowing around the door of the church.
My weekend of excitment did not end with roaming the streets of Chichicastinango, oh no. The driver of the van for the return trip, which can barely hold 12 people including the driver, tried to pack 14 people in the van. Now remember I am in the van and my friend who though is thinner than me is no small man himself. Neededless to say it was not going to work, though the driver kept telling me to skoot over. My repeated reply was "How? Please tell me how?" as I showed him there was no space between Brion and myself leaving only enough room on the bench seat for another person's left butt cheek. Finally, he talked to another bus driver who allowed me to get on the bus, thus separating Brion and myself so that all could get home. We both finally returned to Antigua and swore never to use that travel agency again.
