Five Second Rule

It has become tradition for me to help Seno Lili prepare lunch. It started by me telling her that I need to learn how to cook fish (i’ve always been a chicken cook) and it turned out she was more than delighted to oblige. The fish instruction led to shrimp instruction led to fish soup instruction and before I knew it I was pretty much taking Chef Lili cooking classes. The manner in which she shows me how to cook things even makes it feel like I am taking a cooking class. She relays instructions as if she were dictating a recipe. “First, wash the fish. Then descale it with a knife or fork. Make slits under the belly and remove the insides. Wash thoroughly. Make two more slits from the gills towards the tail and fill all openings with salt. Heat oil in the pan and fry fish 10 minutes on each side (the second side may be less). Serve with lime, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and tortillas (can’t forget the tortillas).”

About a month ago while I was receiving Sautéed Beef in Salsa Inglesa lessons Seno Lili dropped a tomato that she was chopping on the tile floor. I quickly picked it up and said, “regla de 5 segundos” or “5 second rule.” Everyone knows the five second rule right? Well, unfortunately this crucial little known “fact” hasn’t reached Guatemala because Seno Lili had no idea what I was talking about. I explained it to her: if you drop food on the floor as long as you pick it up before its been there for five seconds its still safe to eat.

Since that day, every time she drops something on the floor she says, “cinco segundos” “five seconds” and picks it up, gives me a smile and goes along with what she was doing. She uses the five second rule for everything, mango slices, onions, baby bottles. She absolutely loves it.

So, for the record, I'm considering the introduction of the five second rule to Guatemala as a Peace Corps goal #2 (help promote a better understanding of the American people on the part of the peoples served) success.

*For those of you with sanitation concerns, I’d like to reassure you that Seno Lili’s floors are very clean. They are tiled and moped regularly with disinfectant.

Correction

At the behest of my editor, I have revised some phrasing in my last entry.

Also, I would like to post a correction:

At the wedding everyone was calling Eslin's sister Lady which I took to be the translation for maid-of-honor. Since then I have learned that, in fact, Lady is her first name. Foolish me.

Boda Blanca (White Wedding)

Eslin, the 21 year old shopgirl that manages the cooperative store, got married on Saturday. Eslin is the instant friend type. She is one of those bright, welcoming treasures anyone in a foreign place is lucky to find. We have become close over the past three months since we spend a good amount of time just hanging out together at the Cooperative’s store. What’s great is that she is patient with my Spanish. She translates for me when visitors to the store talk to fast or use words that I don’t know. And she has a knack for politely shooing bolos (the town drunks) which comes in handy on slow weekends.

For the past month the wedding plans have been all the gossip at the store. From the invitations to the wedding dress to the drama over dama (bridesmaids) dresses (her damas wanted to buy their own material after she had already picked out the “perfect” fuschia fabric in Chiquimulilla), etc. With each new description Eslin gave about her wedding I would get more and more giddy. Especially when she talked about her gown. She was going to have a 16 foot train (oh my!), a pouffy hoop skirt (yeees) and wear white netting gloves to her elbows (truly amazing).

We arrived at 3:30 to Eslin’s house. The wedding was taking place in her backyard and the invitation saide 3PM but when we walked in the palm tented space was nearly empty (standard Guatemalan tardiness). We took our seats and I entertained myself for the next hour by taking pictures. Pictures of the dove decorations cut from white paper plates hanging from the palm thatched roof. Pictures of the wedding cake, a five cake masterpiece composed of a three-tiered cake topped with plastic bride and groom connected to a second two-tiered cake by plastic staircase with plastic bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up on the steps a-la prom picture.



During my impromptu photo shoot the church band was doing a mic check (instead of “check, one-two, one-two” they used “Gloria Dios, Hallelujah”) and warmed up the crowd by singing church songs. The guests slowly filled the empty plastic chairs and by 4:30 the ceremony began.

First Marvin, the groom, walked down the aisle and took his place with his parents beside the priest. Then came the damas in their fuschia dresses accompanied by their respective caballero. Each couple carried two white staffs connected by a party streamer. The 9 couples lined up along the aisle making a tunnel with their staffs. Next came the “Lady” or maid-of-honor with a pair of scissors cutting the connecting streamers as she walked down the aisle. Then three sets of little kid couples. The first represented the bride and groom and were dressed in miniature bridal dress and tux, the second were the ring bearers and the third carried a bible and other representative trinkets. After the kids, came the flower girl who tossed tiny white styrofoam balls on the pine needle strewn dirt floor. Finally, the wedding march came over the speakers and down the aisle walked Eslin with her parents on either side followed by two girls holding her 16 foot train. She looked beautiful- radiating happiness. This was her moment to shine.






The actual wedding ceremony with vows, ring exchange and kiss took about 30 minutes. After the priest announced the couple husband and wife they were given two chairs to sit in- a sign that we weren’t going to be diving into that carne asada I could smell on the grille anytime soon. The sermon and singing were next on the agenda. The priest and his church ensemble must have come as a package deal. There was a full band at the makeshift alter, two back-up singers, two trumpeters, a keyboardist and a drummer. The priest intermixed his sermon with Evangelical Christian songs. Those in the audience that were Evangelical sang and clapped along, the Catholics just sat there.

An hour later I had exhausted my ability to distract myself from my growling stomach by taking pictures of my friends daughter Ruth who was sitting next to me. I spent the next 15 minutes staring at the flickering lightbulb hanging from the palm ceiling above the priest’s head. He was using so much energy that every time he became vocally animated the light would pulse in sync with the rise and fall of his voice.



When at last the church band had sung their last song, the bridal party marched back down the aisle in the order they had arrived and the crowd began grabbing plastic tables that were stacked on the perimeter of the yard. The backyard was transformed into the reception area in five minutes flat. At about 6:30 dinner was served; the standard party fare of carne asada (grilled beef), escavech (pickled vegetables), two tortillas and pasta salad. All elements of the “party” meal make sense to me except the pasta salad. Its reminiscent of they mayo ridden pasta salad dishes found on buffets in the states and every time its served I curse the person who introduced the recipe to Guatemalans.

The table we were sitting at was tucked away in a dark corner so we had the misfortune of being the last ones served. Luckily, however, my friend Kiera called my cell and was a welcoming distraction while I watched women pass through the sea of tables carrying trays of steaming food. After the meal we were among the few guests still around to watch the cutting of the cake. Its completely acceptable for people to skip the ceremony and just come to a wedding for the dinner and leave after they clean their plates- as long as they bring a gift.

At 8:00 we left the wedding in a tuk-tuk.

6:00 PM

This evening Seño Lili, Fernando and I sat down to a dinner of shrimp salad (a new favorite of mine) and beans (because no meal is complete here without them). Mattihus came in late from hanging out with friends and announced that he was going to eat after us. He proceeded to plop down in front of the TV in the living room. Typical teenager, right? I was still pealing my shrimp (they cook them with the shells on) when Fernando and Lili had cleaned their plates. As soon as they were out of their seats Lili yelled to Mattihus, “venga mi hijo, come sus frijoles”, “Come eat your beans.” “No ha cebolla?”, “There aren’t onions are there?” was his response. Mattihus doesn’t like onions in his beans. “No mi hijo”, “No” she yelled back and then softly said to me, “Si hay”, “Yeah there are” and smiled. Mattihus came into the kitchen grabbed his plate and said, “There is a really good soccer game on between Mexico and Brazil” as he walked back into the living room with his dinner in hand.

Lili sat down in his place at the table and kept me company while I finished my dinner. After three minutes passed loud sappy telenovela music began blaring in the living room. “That doesn’t sound like a soccer game” I yelled to Mattihus. Lili giggled and yelled, “What’s the score?” You could hear static as the channels were changing in the living room and Mattihus yelled back, “Mexico is winning 1-0.” Mattihus is 15 and is obsessed with telenovelas but would never admit it to your face. He’ll be watching one and as soon as anyone walks in the room he will flip the channel to a soccer match. I’ve also caught him swinging in the hammock at Jenny’s house glued to the TV at the 6:00 telenovela hour. His latest poison, the telenovela Mañana. I’m pretty sure you all know what a telenovela is. The spanish version of a soap opera but with more sap. I’ll admit I’ve fallen victim to telenovela obsession. It was a short and sweet affair with Sortelegio. My addiction wasn’t to the plot but rather the lead character Alejandro played by the delicious Cuban actor William Levy. Google image him and you’ll see why. Smokin’ hot.

After I finished my dinner Lili went through the living room to the bedroom and I sat down next to Mattihus to watch the soccer game. It wasn’t long before he grabbed the remote and switched the channel to Mañana. Loud sappy music ensued once again and on the screen the scene switched back and forth between a flashback montage with children running through green pastures laughing merrily and a sad woman crying in a lonely barren old farmhouse. Lili opened the bedroom door, just a crack, and yelled to Mattihus, “How’s the soccer game?” He quickly changed the channel back to FoxSports, got up off the couch and walked out of the house. He couldn’t take our teasing. I presume he went to Jenny’s to watch Mañana in peace from her living room hammock.

p.s. update on my soccer team. We recently won a quadrangular tournament and took home the Q400 ($50) prize. We then lost a game at the Ahumado feria but redeemed ourselves on Sunday with a 7-1 win over the Gomera women’s team. I'll leave you with a few pics from the Ahumado feria, a team shot from Sunday's match... and a photo of two of my teammates kids giving kisses during the 3 hour van ride to the game. So cute.

Marimba Band at the Ahumado Feria- A Guatemalan tradition.

Feria Ride at Ahumado- not much fair traffic in the morning.

My soccer team. Half the girls played barefoot this game.

Besos.

Telephone Talk

Talking on the phone in Guatemala is always an awkward exchange. You can be confident that the person on the other line will answer the phone by saying “aló” which sounds like “hello” with a spanish accent. I have two theories on the word “aló.” Since the word means hello but is exclusively used when answering the phone I'm convinced that either A.) Spanish speakers made-up the word after the invention of the telephone for the sole purpose of answering calls like the American inventors demonstrated OR B.) they started using it later, mimicking the word they heard in movies or on television when english speaking actors picked up the telephone. One way or the other, “aló” must be the spanish phonetic for “hello”. (Please enlighten me if you know otherwise.) Glad that is settled, now moving on...

I have chosen to blog about Guatemalan telephone etiquette because I have recently been subject to an alarming number of awkward phone conversations. Let me explain. One of the main projects I have with my Cooperative is helping them package and sell their salt on the market. However, before we do anything with the product we must first determine if packaging and selling salt to the consumer has more profit potential then just selling the it to a middle man (which they currently do now). To determine profitability we have begun a cost analysis. How much does it cost to rent the salinas, how much do they pay for labor, how much do they spend on gas for the water pump etc, etc. Since we need to include packaging costs in this cost analysis I now spend a good amount of time on the phone calling up printers and packaging contacts to get price quotes.

Now let me try to explain how one of these phone calls plays out. We’ve already reviewed the prevailing telephone introduction word: “aló”. Not too complicated. Where the exchange starts to get slightly uncomfortable is during what I call the “body paragraphs” of the conversation. If you haven’t noticed, I equate my phone conversations to a standard five paragraph essay because I feel like I need to prepare for them as such. The body paragraphs, or meat of the conversation, prove to be difficult simply due to my restricted knowledge of spanish printing and packaging technical terms and my inability to demonstrate my needs with good old fashioned hand gestures through the phone.

But, the telephone awkwardness hits its apex at the conclusion of the conversation. In Guatemala there is no common way to hang-up the phone. They don’t use “good-bye”. Instead there is “bueno pues”, “adios pues” and “vaya pues”. Each meaning something along the lines of “alright then”, “good-bye then” and “go then”. A Guatemalan will repeat these words numerous times to signal he/she is ready to get off the phone. With each repetition the voice on the other end of the line gets fainter and fainter, sounding more and more distant, as if they were actually turning around and walking away from the conversation. What gets confusing is after a handful of “vaya pueses” or “adios pueses” I’m stuck trying to decide how many more times I need to say goodbye before the conversation is going to end. To demonstrate, hanging-up goes a little something like this:

Anna: Bueno, gracias por su ayuda
Packaging Contact: bueno pues, adios
Anna: Adios
Packaging Contact: adios pues
Annalisa: Adios.
Packaging Contact: bueno pues, vaya pues, vaya pu...
Annalisa hangs up

Translation:
Anna: Well, thanks for your help.
Packaging Contact: alright then, goodbye
Anna: Goodbye
Packaging Contact: goodbye then
Annalisa: Goodbye
Packaging Contact: alright then, go then, go the...
Annalisa hangs up.

See, awkward.

Coca not the cola

Mom, please don't share the following with Grandpa.

Up to now I have written a very sunshine and puppies perspective to my Peace Corps service in Guatemala. I'm not going to lie, i've omitted some interesting experiences because headquarters tells us to leave the "bad stuff" for personal journal writing and, more importantly, because I don't want to give anyone in my family unwarranted anxiety (I promise you all I am very safe). Since I wouldn't consider the following a "bad" experience but rather an "informative" and maybe even a "cultural" experience I'm going to share it with you.

While I was spending my Christmas with firecrackers, tamales and Roger Rafael a whole different story was unfolding in Chapeton. Chapeton is an Aldea approximately 9 KM from where I live. I want to preface this by saying Chapeton is a great little beach town with respectable inhabitants (two girls from my soccer team live there) it just happens to be in a very "opportunistic" location for narco trafficking. Yes I said it, narco trafficking.

Guatemala, unfortunately, has become a pit stop for drug traffic to the states (damn American druggies). I'm no expert but it seems perfectly logical. Guatemala is expansive with plenty of jungle for hidden airstrips and has a futile police force that can't secure a square block in the capital city much less the country's border circumference. All Guatemalan borders (especially in the Northern Peten region) are known to harbor drug traffickers. Although I've been told the majority of the drugs move through the eastern side of the country, there is also the occasional narco incident on the west side. Which brings me back to Christmas in Chapeton.

After the Navidad festivities simmered down I spent Saturday afternoon at the Tienda Coop. The town was completely dead- only bolos (drunks) were wandering the streets and they weren't buying anything but guaro so I had plenty of time to gossip with the girls. We first talked about the dance on the 24th and then about the beach festivities on the 25th. Eslin had gone to Las Lisas but she quickly changed the subject to Chapeton. "There were two drownings in Chapeton" she told me. It was a sad story, especially since it occurred on Christmas day. "Two friends were swimming in the ocean and one began to drown, the other went out to try to save him but they both ended up getting pulled under." The rip-tides here are deadly and although dozens are known to die each year in the ocean, it doesn't seem to reduce the number of people willing to risk their lives in the water.

At this point in the conversation a plane flew overhead and Selvan came out from his minibanco station at the store and shocked me with his big guns gossip, "Looks like the cops are still patrolling for coca." Naive as i am I asked, "What coca, like drugs coca?". "Yes, coca like cocaine. They caught three lanchas in Chapeton filled with cocaine on Friday, shit, you should have seen the number of helicopters flying around." What? Where was I when all this was going down? I was intrigued and needed to know more. "But how did the drugs get into the lanchas in the first place and where were they headed?" As if it happens daily Selvan explained, "The planes flew over the coast at Chapeton carrying the coca, they dropped the drugs into the ocean right off the shore and the lanchas went out to retrieve them. The cops caught them before they could carry the drugs into the mangroves and hide." "Ah, I see." Although I wanted to know more I stopped prying. I figured its probably better not to be the suspicious foreign white girl asking lots of questions.

Navidad

I’d like to take this time to reflect on my first Guatemalan Christmas. In order to do so I have to rewind back about two Wednesday's ago. It was this day that I began to notice the holiday transformation. That Wednesday I came back from a morning at the Salina to Fernando painting the house. The “summertime” in Guatemala marks the end of the rainy season and therefore, the most opportune time to do outdoor house work. Fernando told me that every year they paint their house for the New Year. This is no easy feat since they have two stories and a large cement fence that encloses their property. It took him two weeks with a few days off here and there to complete the task- in the spirit of holiday giving I leant a hand and helped him paint the front entrance wall. The fresh coat of paint was just the beginning and as the days neared Christmas the whole house slowly got a facelift. First, the curtains went up in the kitchen and living room, then all of the trinkets and dolls still in their plastic wrapping (Guatemalans like stuffed animals) came down off the shelves to be dusted and all the windows in the house were cleaned with windex. For the next two weeks every time I walked into the house there was a distinct disinfectant smell in the air. The day before Christmas Eve (Nochebuena) Seño Lili changed her tortilla cloth from the standard colorfully striped design to a Christmas holly cloth and I even got a Christmas mug for my coffee in the morning. “Everything new for the New Year” they told me. Then on Christmas Eve day the protective blankets came off the couches in the living room. This was a big deal- those blankets are to my Guatemalan family like plastic couch covers were to my Great Aunt Billie- essential in ensuring furniture longevity. With the couch cushions showing I could sense big things were about to happen. Lastly, the morning of Christmas Eve Fernando got a haircut. “How do you like it?” he asked me. “Like new” I replied. The transformation was complete.

Christmas Eve I spent the day at Mama Noi’s house making invitations for Rocio’s 1st Birthday party out of foam paper with Jenny. Sidebar- Rocio completes 1 year on January 3rd and I’ve been told that there will be 300 kids in attendance at the celebration= we had lots of invitations to make. While we cut and glued and Rocio made "viejitos" with her orange popsicle face, Seño Lili and Mama Noi were busy making tamales. Lots of tamales. At 6PM it was time to go home and get ready for the night. Christmas Eve or Nochebuena is a big deal in my town. They celebrate the holiday as a community and everyone gathers at the town center for a dance.





Mama Noi’s house sits across from the court and thus is prime real-estate for any town function. We started the night off there and ate a meal of tamales, escavech and fresh fruit punch. Then as always, we took a little rest in the hammocks. At this point Hilmer, Rocio’s dad, came over with firecrackers and we lit them off as the people in town began to fill up the area outside the basketball court. Kids were running around setting off firecrackers and the baile DJ started blasting music from his loudspeakers.



I have often told my family how much I enjoy dancing which prompted them to insist that I dance at the Nochebuena baile. At about 10PM Fernando (with the help of a little liquid courage) took me onto the dance floor. At first I was excited to get out and dance but was quickly reminded of how much I still stick out in town. As soon as I started to dance I felt like everyone was staring at me. After about three songs a tall skinny guy came up and ask Fernando something. I heard him respond, “Not yet” and the guy walked away visibly upset. I’m not sure but I think Fernando nixed his attempt to cut in. At this point Fernando started to get a little sweaty. Drips ran down his forehead and his hand became slippery but still he happily danced me in and out and through the crowd on the dance floor. We bumped (literally) into Mattihus dancing with a cute little muchachita- made Fernando proud. And I saw a few of the girls on my soccer team dancing with their boyfriends. After a good six songs I politely told Fernando I was tired. When we left the dance floor I had a wet spot on my shirt from Fernando's sweaty hand. I showed it to Lili which caused her to break out into a laughing fit. As Fernando and I made our way back to Mama Noi’s patio no fewer than four guys I know asked me, “when do we get to dance?” I smiled and said, “later” but thought, “Oh no, what have I got myself into?” Back at Mama Noi’s we waited for midnight. It is tradition in my town to give a hug at 12AM Christmas Day. I was told that everyone hugs their family. This concerned me because in a town of 1,000 everybody is at least cousins. Logistically this midnight hug could get a little complicated.

At about 11:30 out of nowhere Fernando’s “sons’” families pulled up in a pick-up from the capital. Sons in quotes because the two men were introduced to me as “hijos” but are actually not his blood- he helped raise them when he lived in the capital in his early twenties. So the family instantly grew by about ten including a little newborn baby Roger Rafael (after Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal-his parents are apparently tennis fans. Don't worry, I was confused too). They arrived in perfect timing for the hug. When the clock struck midnight the center of town exploded with fireworks, everyone cheered and began their “Feliz Navidades” and hugs. This lasted a while until the music picked up again and people were back at it on the dance floor. Uninterested in being passed around the dance floor I declined invitations back into the baile. At 1:30AM the music was shut off and all made their way home for a good nights rest before Christmas.

Christmas day I woke up at 8AM threw on my bathing suit, tank-top and shorts (the typical Guatemalan doesn’t swim in a bathing suit. They go in the ocean in a t-shirt and shorts- one of my least favorite cultural differences.) and went downstairs to wish everyone a Feliz Navidad. We ate breakfast, packed up the truck with food, beverages and beach supplies and were off to the barra at Las Lisas to spend the day at the beach. We swam, cooked-out and watched the kids play in the water all day long. By the time we got home at 7PM I was exhausted from all the time spent in the sun. I took a quick shower to rinse off the beach sand, turned my fan on, slipped into bed and got a good nights sleep.