Homecoming

Well, after reading Joe's most recent post about how I don't post to my blog anymore, I thought... why the hell not!

First off, I will say that something I learned is that I would do a much better job of blogging had I brought some personal laptop computer with me. This way I could get my thoughts out when the mood struck, and not just when I happened to have internet access (and often trying to beat the clock in the internet café).
Well, now I am in San José, Costa Rica, with access to free, fast internet. So I will write. My journey is ending, and tomorrow morning - Saturday, May 1 - I get on Spirit Airlines for them to take me home to those country roads and the mountain momma of western North Carolina.

I must say that after 3 1/2 months, I am nothing but excited to return to the States. I am excited to see friends and partake in al my favorite traditions - LEAF, contra dances, potlucks, GOOD beer, and oh yeah, MY BICYCLES! Never again will I travel for so long without biking. One lesson learned.

Another lesson? I have loved travelling by myself, but in the future will certainly make sure that for any long-term travel I have more work (paid or volunteer) to give my time in the country(ies) I visit some purpose. It has been too long to go without working towards something. It has been a great exploration of self, but now I am at the brink of wallowing in self-absorption if I don't get to work soon!

My heart will most fondly remember the 9 weeks I spent getting to know the people, landscape, and history of Guatemala. I am thankful that I decided to get to know at least one country very well. Honduras and Costa Rica presented much fun in the sun (scuba, zip-lining, and other touristy things), and Nicaragua was, well, HOT, but absolutely a delight, especially since I spent it with great friends from back home.

I know now that for all the adventure and excitement I have been trying to pull into my life, I do truly miss so many of the things that might otherwise seem "routine" - such things as biking the same delightful trails and roads over and over again, delicious potluck brunches and dinners on someone's porch or yard, giving your partner or shadow an allaman left, sipping on beer and bullshitting about the same bullshit we always bullshit about. Or simply coming home to a familiar bed. It really isn't all that bad!

For me (and I emphasize this, because I know that others are different), travel brings me greater clarity of myself and my home. I am not simply a "citizen of the world." True, the world is getting smaller and smaller - for the good and the bad - and I listen to endless podcasts of nearly one dozen NPR shows just to keep up with it all, but I definitely yearn for citizenship and a sense of place somewhere particular. A place where I can truly live out my scatter-brained, do-it-all lifestyle (all those from Warren Wilson know what I am talking about).

This is because I don't have any ONE thing I am really into. I have a pu pu platter of interests, and thrive off of throwing myself into different situations and massively over-comitting myself. That has been the missing link on my travels in an otherwise pu pu platter-style adventure. Committment. To something, someone, some place. Alright, I know that you think that Ryan Morra commits to nothing... but that is only to abstract things in the future. I'd like to think that when it matters, I do throw myself whole-heartedly into whatever project comes my way. So I return to the grand U. S. of A. with a renewed commitmment to actually commit. I will give it a shot, and see how it goes. All else fails, I don't really have to commit, right?

Well, I think I will close with the ending lines of Mary Oliver's great poem "Have You Even Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches?":

Meanwhile, once in a while, I have chanced, among the quick things, upon the immutable.
What more could one ask?

And I would touch the faces of the daises,
and I would bow down
to think about it.

That was then, which hasn't ended yet.

Now the sun begins to swing down. Under the peach-light,
I cross the fields and the dunes, I follow the oceans's edge.

I climb, I backtrack.
I float.
I ramble my way home.

Thanks for reading... whoever you are.

YOU WANT TO SEE SOME PHOTOS?

Well, for now, just go to my Facebook page.

I have successfully loaded ALL my photos onto several albums. Much easier and faster than blogger.

Perhaps when I get back from another trek I will update the blog. Until then - enjoy!

Friday News Round-Up Part 2

Welcome back.

Now, if anyone knows anything about soccer/fútbol, you know that the rest of the world lives for it, so naturally in the second largest city of Guatemala, there will be a stadium. Albeit a... basic one with poured concrete tiered seating and a field that looks like it good use a green thumb.

But, Xela-ju, the Super Chivos (rams), are still a crowd pleaser here in Xela. As my teacher would later tell me though, they do stink. :-) Guatemala rarely makes it even remotely close to competeting in the world cup, and our new friend from Inglaterra (that's England) claims that a pub team could easily take these guys. But that doesn't stop the fun of going to a game.

Guatemalans have little care for screaming obscentities to the other team (or their own players who mess up big time), and spare no fanfare of drums, trumpets, flags, and even facepaint to support their local team. One of the more interesting encouters happened within the stadium when I tried to find the bathroom. I saw the one for "damas" but could not find "caballeros" anywhere. Then I looked at a wall in the back of the entryway, and saw a line of men just doing their thing on the concrete wall in a not so discrete manner. There was an armed guard less then 10 feet away who didn't seem to mind, so I just joined right on in.

Oh, and Xela-ju did end up winning 2-0.


Back to Zunil
Later in the week we revisited the town of Zunil (from the last post) in order to visit a famous church there as well as a women's textile cooperative. If anyone has interest in me bringing back a boldly colored hand bag or belt - please let me know! Every item seems to have a mix of any and every color below.


Another thing I was quite proud of is that the many German friends who helped form this cooperative made sure to include bicycle power in the textile machines. Ah, gotta love those Europeans. It made me smile.


The other favorite part of my visit was getting cursed. Yes. Even though we went to visit a town centered around religion, we did get cursed. Or, maybe that is precisely why it was bound to happen. The local saint, San Simon, is "housed" in a shrine room just a few streets down from the white church Zunil is famous for (and shown at the beginning of this section). Now, in order to enter the shrine area, it costs Q5 (less than $1), and to take a photo is another Q5. I so wish I did take a photo now, because you´d have to see this guy to believe he. He was one pimped out saint: cream colored suit with matching Fedora, sunglasses, mad bling bling around the neck, and a fat ole cuban cigar coming out of his mouth (this is a mannequin, mind you). I do have a friend who sneaked a photo (I am sure she is extra cursed), so maybe I will find for you.

Anyhow, we had one person go in for the group to take a legit photo. We all pitched in Q1. No big deal. Until. The man running the the show demanded Q5 (if not Q10) from each one of us because we had entered the foyer of the building - which was specifically mentioned as not costing anything. After a little bit of arguing back and forth with one of our Guatemalan teachers, the man let it be known that San Simon is going to curse us all. Dang. The recession is every being felt my mafioso appartions.

Perhaps my curse did come through when we played poker last night and three times in a row when I was dealt beautiful cards that allowed me to slow raise everyone else down to one person, I was suddenly defeated on the River. Dang you San Rimon! Well, I was only out Q4 (that's $0.50).

So this weekend is off to the beach, and then coming back in time for Super Bowl Sunday. Amazing how many people down here (and in Norway, apparently) follow the NFL. Go Saints!

Till next time.

Friday News Round-Up Part 1

bienvenidos a mi blog.

It has been a while since the last blog! Busy busy busy times this past week. And with a slower internet connection shared by many a people, it isn't always easy to find the time.

So, let's start with: Las Fuentes Georginas

One of the many benefits of being in a volcano-laden locale is the abundancy of natural hot springs flowing out of the sulphurous land and into pools (some man-made and others au natural). So on the second day of my first weekend in Guatemala, my 2.1 meter tall Norweigan traveling mate, Anders, and I decided to engaing fully in our tourism and spoil ourselves with a trip to the hot springs.

On the way to the hot springs was the small town of Zunil, nestled in the valley a little ways from our big city Quetzaltenango (Xela). Here is an okay photo:


You can see how the afternoon mist is rolling in heavily into the valley. The photos never do it justice, although I do enjoy this other photo that highlights the diversity of gardens held by the families in the town:


Now, admittedly, I have been to hotter hot springs before out in the Yellowstone National Park area, but it is never really fair to complain about a trip like this! Plus, it is always fun to meet more traveler's, such as the Canadians from Saskatchewan with whom we shared our little bus ride.

Early in the week was more Spanish grammar, of course, and more fútbol, of course. We Americans continued to get pummeled by our European and Guatemalan friends, but it's certainly fun to play more of the world's favorite game... even if we play it on a concrete pad next to a dusty field of dirt!

Alright... more to come in Part 2!

Chicabal: "El Mundo es un Jardín"

Oregon isn't the only place with a crater lake.

Today I got up at 7:00am (so rough when on an extended vacation), to hike up Chicabal (pronounced CHEE-cah-bal), a little bit outside of Xela. Chicabal is a mostly dormant volcano, the top of which fell into itself years and years ago, and filled with water, forming a lake at the top. If you need a visual...


We took a small bus ride there, more like one of those old-school Toyota minivans that are shaped like an egg. But in Guatemala, that means you can fit about 15 people in them! Among the people who sat down were a group of American students. When I asked if they were part of a program, they said it was called One Revolution. I said, "oh, yeah, I know that program" - which surprised the hell out of them. I went on to tell the leaders that I know two people who have worked for the parent organization of this program, Carpe Diem Education, and have known tons of people from Warren Wilson College who were once participants. Truth is, I actually applied to be a leader myself, but have yet to be offered a job there... he he.

"El mundo es un jardín" (basically meaning "it's a small world" but literally "the world is a garden"), because one of the leaders on this trip had met my friend and world travller, Azikiwe Chandler. Who if anybody knows anything about travelling, knows that one hasn't even come close to seeing the world until you have seen as much as Zik. Yep, small world.


Once out of the bus, it was a long and steep walk up the Volcano. Our guide was one of the younger male Spanish teachers at El Mundo, Mauricio. It was a great opportunity to keep practicing my Spanish, espcecially my use of the subjunctive, which as any advanced Spanish language student knows, can be the bane of your existence until you finally overcome it.

Anyways... Chicabal is a volcano sacred to los Mayas, as well as the indigenous who have converted to Christianity. When we got to the lake, there were actually know indigenous ceremonies going on, they were all Christian cermonies.

Again, I kept thinking about the types of people and relgious ceremonies I saw in Tibet, because this form of Christianity is very different from the Catholocism I grew up with. (These ceremonies weren't Catholic, though, even though Catholocism is one of the most common Christian religions in Guatemala). The small town on the way up to the volcano had the feel of the small towns or monasteries of Tibet - built on the steep slopes of the mountainside, with field of different crops covering the hillsides on angles we wouldn't dream of farming in the United States. But in Guatemala, that is what it is.


Tomorrow is off the Las Fuentes Georginas. The natural hot springs just outside of the city for a little more rest and relaxation. I will leave you with the last photo I took before the afternoon fog rolled in (the reason we started hiking so early).

Like Riding A Bicycle

After only three days of language school with mi maestra Rosa, it is comforting to know that while things start out often a bit frustrating, re-learning Spanish es mucho mejor than I thought. Of course, I am getting a big challenge right off the bat because somehow Rosa and I are always talking about things that are complicated enough in English, like when she asked me to discuss la diferencia entre las dos casas del Congreso, y los ideologías de los Republicanos y los Demócratas. We also talk about such things as seguro médico (health insurance) and el calentamiento del mundo/cambio del clima (that global warming/climate change).

Needless to say, these are topics not easily discussed in one's native tounge, but I am working on it. I am finally getting to the point where every now and then I can also say things like: "If I had known that word, I would have been able to describe this better!" (which is actually quite difficult to say!)

On the homefront, I love my host family! I have become quite good friends with little Sofía, and we have lots of playdates together. It is hard enough to understand babies already, let alone in Spanish, but we do just fine. This is a photo of Sofía with her mother and great-grandmother!

On of our latest excursiones was to a cemetary in the center of Xela. I had only ever seen a cemetary like this before in New Orleans, where most of the tombs are all raised tombs. The last photo below is of one of the many volcanoes that you simply come across in the horizon when you are walking about Guatemala.

Xela - Day 1

As soon as I got off the bus in downtown Xela, I strapped on mi mochila and started walking. I didn't know where, but I wanted to get lost for a bit before making it to my destination:
8a Avenida Calle BA-61, Zona 1
(translating that address means building number 61 on Street B off of Avenue 8 in the block after Street A... easy, right?)
So I only got lost for a couple of blocks before I got my barrings. I knew that Xela, like Guatemala City, is arranged in a grid system, so it is easy to find your way with Avenues (Avenidas) and Streets (Calles). Thank gooddness for New York City-like grid layouts!
Upon entering El Mundo en Español, the Spanish language school I would be studying at for the next three weeks, I saw one student and a teacher talking one-on-one in the livng room. Then Gladis, who lives and works at the school, took my back into her coutryard where there were another dozen or so students each with their own teacher at little tables soaking in the sun, with the expansive view of the mountains behind them. I learned that every six months a group of health professionals come to learn spanish at El Mundo, and this group was just starting. They don't live at the school, but we all study together in the morning with our teachers. Seen below:


I live only with Anders, a 6 1/2 (or more) foot tall Norweigan college student here for study. We take excursions in the evening together, I towering above the Guatemalans, and he towering above everyone.
In my first afternoon, I enjoyed a large alumerza (lunch) with the extended family of Gladis. IMPORTANT NOTE: Anders and I live in separate rooms upstairs, and one of Gladis' daughters also has a room upstairs. Gladis' tio (uncle) lives downstairs, along with Gladis, her mother, another daughter, and two grandchildren. For lunch and dinner, even more people come over (the spouses and boyfriends), and a dozen of us crowd around the table for our meals. I. love. it.
My first day in Xela also brought a game of six-person soccer played at elevation and in the smog on a concrete court. My skills aren't so bad that they didn't pass the ball to me, (I only scored 2 of the 16 goals my three-person team made, you do the math) but we can see what happens when more people show up!

I also enjoyed my first good night of sleep in many, many days. Between holiday travels, major jetlag that never wore off in Hawai'i, and simply getting to Guatemala, I thoroughly enjoyed listening to a podcast of A Prairie Home Companion and falling asleep by ten o'clock. Alright. Homework time.

The exterior of the house I will be staying in for my first three weeks in Xela.