Moving On

Three years ago, almost exactly, I taught a writing lesson to my 2nd/3rd grade class within the context of life goals. As one of my examples, I used my goal of going to Rwanda to see the world's last remaining mountain gorillas. After the lesson, one of my favorite students, Luis, asked me when I was actually planning on going. I told him that it was only an example and that the reality of going half-way around the world to see these animals was just a dream. "But Miss Shea, you said we have the ability to make our goals come true. You have to go. You need to see the gorillas before they're all gone." I brushed off what he said, but for the next couple days I really did think about Luis's words. Then the next week I received a new volunteer in my classroom and soon after introductions, we learned that she had recently returned from seeing the mountain gorillas in Rwanda. Luis shot me a look and I could read his mind: "This is a sign."  So I applied for and received my one-year sabbatical from my teaching job in order to travel with the intention that I'd return as a less stressed, rejuvenated, Spanish-speaking teacher. But instead, I never returned. And these last three years have been the best of my life. Truly the best. But reality is knocking on my door and it's time to move on from all this wandering and get a bit more focused. 

Praying & making an offering
 to Saint Maximon

One of my goals that first year was to go to Guatemala, which didn't actually come to fruition until just recently. My first week in the country was kind of unsettling...The roads were scary and everything was a little less comfortable than in Mexico.  But its charm and quirks slowly grew on me. Life in Guatemala is harder, but it seems more beautiful for some reason. It's full of bright colors, religious processions, natural wonders, chaotic markets, machismo men, indigenous women dressed in traditional clothing, countless street dogs, babies on motorcycles, Mayans who only speak their native language, child vendors, plantains prepared every which way, political and social injustice, "chicken buses", beautiful handmade textiles, litter, coffee farms, volcanoes galore, lots of used clothing from the U.S.A., sacred customs, fruit you've never seen before, and happy people who work harder than you could ever imagine just to barely survive. 

Friday night graduation at PLQ
(I went to 11 of these!)

Quetzaltenango was my home for almost three months. Xela ("shay-la") for short, it's Guatemala's second largest city but one that's often overlooked by tourists.  Xela's not the prettiest town, nor the cleanest, but I liked it.  Maybe because of the influx of Spanish students, it's actually got plenty of cafes with generous pours of cheap red wine to make gringos like me feel right at home. Most importantly, the best Spanish school in all of Guatemala is there. Proyecto Linguistico Quetzalteco (PLQ) has been around for 25 years and unlike most other language schools, the teachers are paid well, receive benefits, and have many years experience. Even more, PLQ is the type of school that makes you realize how little you know about so many important things, like human rights abuses, social injustices of women and indigenous groups, political corruption, and American involvement in some pretty horrific things. I attended one-on-one classes for eleven weeks and loved just about every minute of it.

Our dysfunctional family portrait.
(Mom was taking the pic.)

Everyone says that to learn another language, you should immerse yourself fully by living with a host family. So that's what I did. I stepped WAY outside of my comfort zone and moved into the home of a random Guatemalan family. For my first two weeks in Xela, I lived with a woman who is just a little older than me and her two sons, ages 9 and 13. They all slept in the same bedroom, while I stayed in my own doorless room above them. If I had to describe the experience in one word I would say, uncomfortable. I was suddenly in the personal space of a family I didn't know and hardly understood. It was so weird. We all shared a bathroom...and sometimes the uncle, the niece, or the grandma came over to use the shower too. The bed was hard as a rock.  After my first night's "sleep" in the freezing cold room, I was sure we had quite a few earthquakes throughout the night, but when I asked my family about the "tremblors" they looked at me like I was crazy. Turns out, it was just my room shaking every time a car drove by.  In an anthropological sort of way, I enjoyed the experience...but after those two weeks, I moved into a great little hostel where I had a private bedroom that didn't shake, my own bathroom, and the ability to cook whatever I wanted whenever I wanted...all for $7/night. And ironically, I got more practice speaking Spanish in the hostel than I did with my host family. 

My Guatemalteca mom cooking
something wonderful for me

But I really wanted that "authentic" feeling once more, so for my last three weeks in Xela I lived with Maria Teresa, a traditional, super independent woman who runs a cantina out of the front of her home, has a guard dog named Fido, and blasts marimba music all day.  Fortunately for me, she's an incredible cook who was willing to share many of her recipes with me. I learned as much as I could about la comida tipica and much to her amusement, took pictures of just about every meal she prepared for me. We celebrated Mother's Day together by making a big lasagna (my recipe) and having a special lunch with her closest friends. Since she lost her only child at a young age, this was an especially significant day for her and I was honored to be a part of it. She became the best Guatemalan mom a 38 year old gringa could ever imagine and I can't wait to visit her again.

One can't talk about Guatemala without mentioning its main mode of transportation, the camionetas. Otherwise known as "chicken buses", these privately owned retired school buses from the USA are painted and decorated with religious sayings and images of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary (probably as a way to protect them while driving so fast).  They're often so packed that riders must sit three to a seat and stand in the aisle pressed up to one another. The man that collects the money, the "ayudante", doesn't get paid much, but has an incredibly difficult job that often resembles Spiderman. He'll climb over the seats, one foot on each backrest, to collect fares from all the riders. Or he'll climb on top of the bus while it's moving, pulling himself up from the main entrance, only to reappear a few minutes later via the emergency exit in back. Sometimes there are armed robberies on these buses. Sometimes the drivers are murdered because they don't pay their bribes to the local gangs. Sometimes these buses go off the side of a windy mountain road. But usually they are safe and efficient and make for wonderful people watching.

With Maria in her home. 
(She's standing.)

I had to take a few different chicken buses to get to Maria's village. She is just one of many lovely people I met while in Xela, but there's something really special about her that will stick with me forever. Unmarried and without children, her means of supporting herself is selling textiles on the sidewalk outside of PLQ a couple times a week. Although from what I can tell, she usually doesn't sell much. She invited me and another student to her home for what I thought would be a trip to see more of her products, since she can only carry so much each time she makes the 1.5 hour trek to Xela from her village. But as it turned out, she didn't have anything to sell us. It was just a friendly visit to see her home and meet her family. Rest assured, I ended up buying many of her things the following week when I saw her outside the school.

During my entire time in Guatemala (90 days exactly), I had constant mild anxiety about my forthcoming need to make money. The necessity for a job was constantly on the horizon. Not just any job, but a job that felt right, a job that was in a Spanish-speaking country so I could continue to improve my language skills, a job that paid a living wage, and a job that was somehow related to education. During the weekends, instead of studying Spanish, I often idled away the hours wasting time on job search sites, which always left me a little more anxious and pessimistic. I applied to a few jobs, but only felt enthusiastic about one.  For the sake of full disclosure, I also applied for this same job last October, but after a lengthy interview process lost the job to a bilingual candidate. My initial disappointment didn't last long because I knew it didn't feel right at that time. It felt forced and rushed and it gave me anxiety. Not getting the job because I wasn't bilingual, though, was the motivation I needed to go improve my Spanish. And that motivation led to an amazing adventure through southern Mexico, parts of Guatemala, and a much greater understanding of the Spanish language. But anyways, they posted that same position again recently. So I reapplied. And guess what? This time I got it! And this time it feels right! After three years away from elementary school teaching, I'll be returning to Guatemala in late August as the fourth grade teacher at  LIFE School, which is located in Panajachel on Lake Atitlan. 

I received the job offer on my last day in the country, which made saying goodbye to the folks in Xela much easier. Although Xela is a very comfortable city in which to live for awhile, I felt like it was the right time to go. It was nice, though, that I could say "nos vemos" instead of adios forever, since Xela is only a two hour chicken bus ride away from the lake.  

Saying goodbye to something that is almost perfect but not quite, whether it's a job, a relationship, a city or whatever, is so difficult because we know that perfection doesn't exist. But there's a fine line between accepting a situation with its flaws and settling for something that doesn't feel right. With all its problems and craziness, Guatemala still feels right to me and I'm beyond excited to move there in August for this job. I'm excited to actually live someplace for longer than a few months. And I'm excited for the next chapter of my life, whatever it may hold. Even though I'm a little nervous about returning to the classroom and relocating to Panajachel (a city I've never visited), I know I'll be happy because if there's one thing I've learned for certain over the last three years it's that I can be happy anywhere (or unhappy). It's totally up to me. 

I've also learned that my intuition is pretty amazing. If I continue to trust it, I think everything will continue to fall into place for me. And if it doesn't, I know that I'm in control of making the change I need to create peace and happiness in my life. It's really that simple. Three years ago when I made that difficult decision to leave my dream job, I trusted in my gut.  Too many of us stay stuck in situations that don't feel quite right, but I was very lucky to have met Luis and the many others who helped me with the courage I needed to leave my comfort zone and live my life differently. Hopefully that's how I'll continue to live from this point on. 

This was my last blog entry. Mostly because I'm feeling a bit oversaturated with blogs and conversations about traveling, adventuring and soul searching. Also because I am so over writing about myself, at least publicly.  It's time to move on, in more ways than one. 

Lake Atitlan, my future home