Day 8
2/24
In the middle of the night I wake up to use the bathroom and look out my window without my glasses. The sky is pure. I can see the silhouette of the hillside and many bright white sparkling dots of light. Two are so bright that I think, in my state of half alertness, that they must be cell phone tower beacons. I fumble for my glasses to see better. I still can’t believe they’re stars.
Breakfast in the morning is small pancakes among all the other common goodies we’ve grown used to. As we check out of the hotel to head to a Computer Lab Inauguration and then on to Antigua, I buy an ice cream bar from a Nestle icebox in the lobby. Other people are getting them too just for the heck of it, even though it’s early in the morning and pretty chilly. I pick a Nestle “Vampiro” bar with a picture of Darth Vader on the wrapper. How appropriate. It’s a berry flavored Popsicle that turns the inside of my mouth dark red. I save the wrapper to show Sam when I get home.
We have a bathroom break during the ride at Kape Paulinos, the same restaurant we stopped at when in this region at the beginning of our trip. Now that I know how tortillas are made and have a greater appreciation for the process, I take a picture of a lady doing just that inside the restaurant.
I talk with Bob Ashley in the back of the van as I’m crowded back there in the corner over the wheel well. He explains how coffee is harvested. The beans grown on the branches, and not at the ends either, like apples or berries. They are only to be picked when they ripen to an orange-red color. Some beans on the same tree or branch may not all be ripe at the same time, so the beans must be picked individually by hand. No mechanical means exist for differentiating and picking the right ones. The outer shells of the beans are picked off, and the beans are soaked in water where the beans sink and the husks float to the top to be sifted away. The beans are a whitish color at this point and must be laid out to dry on long wooden tables or concrete slabs. They are roasted in an oven, and that’s when they turn brown and are ready for packaging.
Diana and John challenge George and I to a game of trivia. Diana has a deck of cards with 1000 American trivia questions. We ask the second question on each card, and whoever has the most cards, keeping it for each right answer, wins the game when we get through the deck. Diana and John beat us two games to one. Someone brings up the craziness of the Seinfeld TV episode in which they’re playing trivia and the correct answer is “The Moors.” The card has a typo, and George Costanza says, “I’m sorry, but the correct answer is ‘The Moops.” I vaguely remember the episode but anytime anyone retells any part of a Seinfeld episode, it’s funny.
The computer lab is set up at a large public school, Comalapa. We are seated in plastic chairs in a large open-air auditorium in front of a large stage. The students stand behind us. Our group is getting better at singing the Guatemalan National Anthem. The director of the school says he’s proud that we are not even from his country but sing their National Anthem. That gratitude makes me feel really good. Carolyn J. gets to sit on stage as our representative of COED and Rotary International. Other representatives from the school, the parents, the phone company and an organization called Futurekids join her on stage. Microsoft reps and the press sit in seats with us.
The computers have been installed here for a month, but this is the grand unveiling, and it is a big deal to the community. Howard is the coordinator for the computer lab programs and has the reps make a chain while holding hands, telling everyone that none of this would be possible without each person or agency coming together in cooperation.
We are treated to a female student reading a poem, and then we watch the traditional festival dance, which we’ve seen many times with some variations. The same music we’ve grown accustomed to plays from the speakers, but this time only girls come out to dance. They swing pots of smoking incense that they hold on dangling chains. It smells like church around Christmas.
We witness a ceremonial ribbon cutting in front of the computer lab involving all those mentioned previously, with each of them getting a piece of the ribbon. We all get to enter the lab now. It’s nice, if not a little dark, with twenty black Dell computers and monitors. Students sit at each station, and the teacher is in the corner with his station hooked up to a projector displaying his screen on the far wall. Several of us and some parents sit down in the extra chairs next to each student. The teacher leads them through exercises which they then demonstrate (searching Encarta, changing the desktop background, etc.). We then have some “one on one” time in which the kids can show us what else they can do, or we can show them what we know. The Internet is not hooked up yet, so that limits some of us. I teach Mario at the station where I’m sitting how to play Solitaire. After a while, I think he gets it.
Our group goes into the teachers’ lounge and has lunch with the teachers. It’s sandwiches from Subway! We’re slowly being re-Americanized. I have a six-inch meat sub with peppers, lettuce and onions. It’s not my favorite, but I eat it because I’m so hungry. Joe and I sit next to a woman teacher who I learn has taught here for 25 years. I listen to Joe and her conversation in Spanish and try to pick up things. Occasionally, I’ll ask her something or have Joe translate. It’s an enjoyable experience.
After lunch, we’re off to Antigua. I’m not sure what to expect. I know the city was the old capital and has many old churches and a lot of shopping. We’ve heard many great things about the city during our trip, but how pretty can it be all jam-packed with shops, buildings, cars and people? I’m not wowed until we reach the Hotel Antigua. First-rate service greets us at the entrance and lobby. It’s confusing at first as only half of the rooms are ready for us to check in. Beyond the simpler exterior walls of the hotel that line the entire block, the hotel sports a Spanish colonial styling with a beautiful fountain in the lobby.
We have no way to tell when our rooms will be done. Robin, Lisa, Suzanne and Alisha want to go shopping. They ask me to come along. They joke that I can be their security. I do still need to get a few things for Sam and Becky, so I go along.
Antigua lies just north of the giant active volcano Agua. The city was destroyed in 1776 by a major earthquake. Most of the shops we hit today are specialty shops or fancy stores. I keep an eye on the ladies as they hit several clothing stores at once. I keep track so no one gets left behind. We see some knick-knack shops, but I don’t see anything I want to get just yet. Alisha looks tired and wants to head back to the hotel. Secretly, I’m not feeling well right now and agree to walk back with her.
As we arrive in the lobby, the rest of our rooms are just now ready, and our bags are still where we left them. I have to cross the street to the other section of this surprisingly large hotel to get to my room. I walk down narrow walkways and pass beautiful gardens. The room is amazing, and there is even a towel folded in the shape of a swan on one of the beds. There is a rustic looking hutch containing a TV and wooden footlockers. The windows have wooden shutters that open completely out to the open-air hallway beyond. The ceiling fan is operated by remote control.
I use the bathroom and hope that’s all there is to that. There’s some time before dinner, so I explore the rest of the hotel. I find the pool area. From here I can look up and see Agua in all its glory. Its peak is covered in a sheet of gray angry clouds. The landscaping around the pool is exquisitely tropical, and I forget how crowded it is outside the unseen walls into the city beyond.
I find the bar nearby and use the free drink card provided to me at check-in. I buy Jennifer Hayes Withrow and Karen Pompeo a drink, and there’s some confusion with the bartender. I think he charges me for the free drink, but he talks so fast I can’t follow. I’m not sure what he asks for. I pay him and get my change. John Muhlenkamp and his sister, Marlene Henry, along with Richard Poole join us. I drink the free rum punch concoction, which is not very strong at all, before I think that alcohol in my present condition is probably not the best thing for me. I start feeling worse at this point and excuse myself.
I have my second encounter with Montezuma in my room, but just figure that the Imodium finally ran its course from when I took it several days ago and my body is just catching up with what it’s supposed to do. Somehow the toilet blocks up. Great. I leave the room to track down a plunger and run into a gentleman from room service.
“Mi bano innundado,” I tell him, using the word for “flooded” that I already knew from looking up words pertaining to the picture in my photo album where my police station is under six inches of water. “Como se dice ‘plunger’ en espanol?”
“Topero,” he replies.
The man doesn’t just get one for me; he follows me to my room and unstops the toilet for me. How embarrassing! In Spanish, he tells me to put the wastepaper in the basket. I tell him it was only a little bit of paper. I tip him and lie down on the bed.
John comes in a few minutes after me, and we both rest on our beds. I’m feeling really queasy and weak, but I say I’ll be joining everyone for dinner. So, after a short rest, John heads to dinner. I’m a few minutes behind. I order a Sprite, and it can’t come quick enough. I feel like gulping it down, but I know that wouldn’t be good. Alisha hears I’m not feeling so great and comes over to secretly slip me some Imodium. John goes up to the buffet and brings me back a roll and some chicken broth. I can’t believe that the time when we finally get some decent food and decent portions, I can’t even stand the sight or smell of food. I try sipping the broth, but the act of chewing the bread really makes my stomach churn. I finish my Sprite and ask for another one. I don’t think that will help, and something tells me that it’s time to excuse myself.
I leave the hotel restaurant and forget how long of a walk it is back to the other section of the hotel and my room. I don’t make it. I start gagging and throw up into a bed of plants by a small courtyard. It comes on that suddenly. I sit there for a minute, thinking if anyone sees me, they might think I’m a pathetic drunk. No one is around, and I slowly get back to the room and plop on the bed sideways-- clothes, shoes and all. I don’t move. John comes back after dinner and checks on me. Right now I’m not sure what’s going on or what kind of medicine I should take. I finally get the strength to move and take my shoes and pants off. Another bout hits me and for the first time this entire trip, I don’t write in my journal. I go straight to bed, too weak to do anything else. I think I’ll blame Subway for this. After all, Becky got food poisoning from them before. And I am in Central America.
I’m up all night. I feel like I would just feel better if I could just throw up again, but my body won’t let me. My mind endures incoherent thoughts, but I’m aware I’m speaking out loud a word at a time, almost crying out, each time a bout of pain or nausea hits me. I do this instead of moan.
I chant to myself, “Once, doce, trece, catorce…” 11, 12, 13, 14. That’s weird.
Finally, I can’t take it any longer. I was thinking I’d let nature take its course, but now I don’t want to. So, I take the Imodium, in addition to another round of antibiotics.
Lights out on day 8 in Guatemala at 9:00, 10:30, 1:00, 1:30, 2:00, 3:00…
In the middle of the night I wake up to use the bathroom and look out my window without my glasses. The sky is pure. I can see the silhouette of the hillside and many bright white sparkling dots of light. Two are so bright that I think, in my state of half alertness, that they must be cell phone tower beacons. I fumble for my glasses to see better. I still can’t believe they’re stars.
Breakfast in the morning is small pancakes among all the other common goodies we’ve grown used to. As we check out of the hotel to head to a Computer Lab Inauguration and then on to Antigua, I buy an ice cream bar from a Nestle icebox in the lobby. Other people are getting them too just for the heck of it, even though it’s early in the morning and pretty chilly. I pick a Nestle “Vampiro” bar with a picture of Darth Vader on the wrapper. How appropriate. It’s a berry flavored Popsicle that turns the inside of my mouth dark red. I save the wrapper to show Sam when I get home.
We have a bathroom break during the ride at Kape Paulinos, the same restaurant we stopped at when in this region at the beginning of our trip. Now that I know how tortillas are made and have a greater appreciation for the process, I take a picture of a lady doing just that inside the restaurant.
I talk with Bob Ashley in the back of the van as I’m crowded back there in the corner over the wheel well. He explains how coffee is harvested. The beans grown on the branches, and not at the ends either, like apples or berries. They are only to be picked when they ripen to an orange-red color. Some beans on the same tree or branch may not all be ripe at the same time, so the beans must be picked individually by hand. No mechanical means exist for differentiating and picking the right ones. The outer shells of the beans are picked off, and the beans are soaked in water where the beans sink and the husks float to the top to be sifted away. The beans are a whitish color at this point and must be laid out to dry on long wooden tables or concrete slabs. They are roasted in an oven, and that’s when they turn brown and are ready for packaging.
Diana and John challenge George and I to a game of trivia. Diana has a deck of cards with 1000 American trivia questions. We ask the second question on each card, and whoever has the most cards, keeping it for each right answer, wins the game when we get through the deck. Diana and John beat us two games to one. Someone brings up the craziness of the Seinfeld TV episode in which they’re playing trivia and the correct answer is “The Moors.” The card has a typo, and George Costanza says, “I’m sorry, but the correct answer is ‘The Moops.” I vaguely remember the episode but anytime anyone retells any part of a Seinfeld episode, it’s funny.
The computer lab is set up at a large public school, Comalapa. We are seated in plastic chairs in a large open-air auditorium in front of a large stage. The students stand behind us. Our group is getting better at singing the Guatemalan National Anthem. The director of the school says he’s proud that we are not even from his country but sing their National Anthem. That gratitude makes me feel really good. Carolyn J. gets to sit on stage as our representative of COED and Rotary International. Other representatives from the school, the parents, the phone company and an organization called Futurekids join her on stage. Microsoft reps and the press sit in seats with us.
The computers have been installed here for a month, but this is the grand unveiling, and it is a big deal to the community. Howard is the coordinator for the computer lab programs and has the reps make a chain while holding hands, telling everyone that none of this would be possible without each person or agency coming together in cooperation.
We are treated to a female student reading a poem, and then we watch the traditional festival dance, which we’ve seen many times with some variations. The same music we’ve grown accustomed to plays from the speakers, but this time only girls come out to dance. They swing pots of smoking incense that they hold on dangling chains. It smells like church around Christmas.
We witness a ceremonial ribbon cutting in front of the computer lab involving all those mentioned previously, with each of them getting a piece of the ribbon. We all get to enter the lab now. It’s nice, if not a little dark, with twenty black Dell computers and monitors. Students sit at each station, and the teacher is in the corner with his station hooked up to a projector displaying his screen on the far wall. Several of us and some parents sit down in the extra chairs next to each student. The teacher leads them through exercises which they then demonstrate (searching Encarta, changing the desktop background, etc.). We then have some “one on one” time in which the kids can show us what else they can do, or we can show them what we know. The Internet is not hooked up yet, so that limits some of us. I teach Mario at the station where I’m sitting how to play Solitaire. After a while, I think he gets it.
Our group goes into the teachers’ lounge and has lunch with the teachers. It’s sandwiches from Subway! We’re slowly being re-Americanized. I have a six-inch meat sub with peppers, lettuce and onions. It’s not my favorite, but I eat it because I’m so hungry. Joe and I sit next to a woman teacher who I learn has taught here for 25 years. I listen to Joe and her conversation in Spanish and try to pick up things. Occasionally, I’ll ask her something or have Joe translate. It’s an enjoyable experience.
After lunch, we’re off to Antigua. I’m not sure what to expect. I know the city was the old capital and has many old churches and a lot of shopping. We’ve heard many great things about the city during our trip, but how pretty can it be all jam-packed with shops, buildings, cars and people? I’m not wowed until we reach the Hotel Antigua. First-rate service greets us at the entrance and lobby. It’s confusing at first as only half of the rooms are ready for us to check in. Beyond the simpler exterior walls of the hotel that line the entire block, the hotel sports a Spanish colonial styling with a beautiful fountain in the lobby.
We have no way to tell when our rooms will be done. Robin, Lisa, Suzanne and Alisha want to go shopping. They ask me to come along. They joke that I can be their security. I do still need to get a few things for Sam and Becky, so I go along.
Antigua lies just north of the giant active volcano Agua. The city was destroyed in 1776 by a major earthquake. Most of the shops we hit today are specialty shops or fancy stores. I keep an eye on the ladies as they hit several clothing stores at once. I keep track so no one gets left behind. We see some knick-knack shops, but I don’t see anything I want to get just yet. Alisha looks tired and wants to head back to the hotel. Secretly, I’m not feeling well right now and agree to walk back with her.
As we arrive in the lobby, the rest of our rooms are just now ready, and our bags are still where we left them. I have to cross the street to the other section of this surprisingly large hotel to get to my room. I walk down narrow walkways and pass beautiful gardens. The room is amazing, and there is even a towel folded in the shape of a swan on one of the beds. There is a rustic looking hutch containing a TV and wooden footlockers. The windows have wooden shutters that open completely out to the open-air hallway beyond. The ceiling fan is operated by remote control.
I use the bathroom and hope that’s all there is to that. There’s some time before dinner, so I explore the rest of the hotel. I find the pool area. From here I can look up and see Agua in all its glory. Its peak is covered in a sheet of gray angry clouds. The landscaping around the pool is exquisitely tropical, and I forget how crowded it is outside the unseen walls into the city beyond.
I find the bar nearby and use the free drink card provided to me at check-in. I buy Jennifer Hayes Withrow and Karen Pompeo a drink, and there’s some confusion with the bartender. I think he charges me for the free drink, but he talks so fast I can’t follow. I’m not sure what he asks for. I pay him and get my change. John Muhlenkamp and his sister, Marlene Henry, along with Richard Poole join us. I drink the free rum punch concoction, which is not very strong at all, before I think that alcohol in my present condition is probably not the best thing for me. I start feeling worse at this point and excuse myself.
I have my second encounter with Montezuma in my room, but just figure that the Imodium finally ran its course from when I took it several days ago and my body is just catching up with what it’s supposed to do. Somehow the toilet blocks up. Great. I leave the room to track down a plunger and run into a gentleman from room service.
“Mi bano innundado,” I tell him, using the word for “flooded” that I already knew from looking up words pertaining to the picture in my photo album where my police station is under six inches of water. “Como se dice ‘plunger’ en espanol?”
“Topero,” he replies.
The man doesn’t just get one for me; he follows me to my room and unstops the toilet for me. How embarrassing! In Spanish, he tells me to put the wastepaper in the basket. I tell him it was only a little bit of paper. I tip him and lie down on the bed.
John comes in a few minutes after me, and we both rest on our beds. I’m feeling really queasy and weak, but I say I’ll be joining everyone for dinner. So, after a short rest, John heads to dinner. I’m a few minutes behind. I order a Sprite, and it can’t come quick enough. I feel like gulping it down, but I know that wouldn’t be good. Alisha hears I’m not feeling so great and comes over to secretly slip me some Imodium. John goes up to the buffet and brings me back a roll and some chicken broth. I can’t believe that the time when we finally get some decent food and decent portions, I can’t even stand the sight or smell of food. I try sipping the broth, but the act of chewing the bread really makes my stomach churn. I finish my Sprite and ask for another one. I don’t think that will help, and something tells me that it’s time to excuse myself.
I leave the hotel restaurant and forget how long of a walk it is back to the other section of the hotel and my room. I don’t make it. I start gagging and throw up into a bed of plants by a small courtyard. It comes on that suddenly. I sit there for a minute, thinking if anyone sees me, they might think I’m a pathetic drunk. No one is around, and I slowly get back to the room and plop on the bed sideways-- clothes, shoes and all. I don’t move. John comes back after dinner and checks on me. Right now I’m not sure what’s going on or what kind of medicine I should take. I finally get the strength to move and take my shoes and pants off. Another bout hits me and for the first time this entire trip, I don’t write in my journal. I go straight to bed, too weak to do anything else. I think I’ll blame Subway for this. After all, Becky got food poisoning from them before. And I am in Central America.
I’m up all night. I feel like I would just feel better if I could just throw up again, but my body won’t let me. My mind endures incoherent thoughts, but I’m aware I’m speaking out loud a word at a time, almost crying out, each time a bout of pain or nausea hits me. I do this instead of moan.
I chant to myself, “Once, doce, trece, catorce…” 11, 12, 13, 14. That’s weird.
Finally, I can’t take it any longer. I was thinking I’d let nature take its course, but now I don’t want to. So, I take the Imodium, in addition to another round of antibiotics.
Lights out on day 8 in Guatemala at 9:00, 10:30, 1:00, 1:30, 2:00, 3:00…
posted by Enforcer @ 7:12 PM
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