Mi Primero Semana En Antigua, (Mi Alma Habla...)

My first week in Antigua. My soul speaks...

...Gently. That is the title of my blog-"My soul speaks gently". It is such because it is true, but as describing someone as "beautiful" may be true, it still does not capture the entire picture. It does not begin to express the intricacies of the speech, where the words were spoken, to whom they were spoken, why they were spoken and to what those words led to next. It is true, here in Antigua, my soul speaks gently, but it also speaks in many other ways and from many other places. "Gently", it more attempts to capture the fluidity of the way I communicate here. Well at least my attempts are fluid, my inhibition flows out everywhere I go. And so does my misused yet impassioned Spanish. This is all to say that I doubt many people see it the way I do, "gently" that is. I can imagine it is perceived more as "loudly" or "awkwardly" or "without thinking". "Fearlessly" another word that I like, it is the only way to become a part of this language. And sin miedo estoy floreciente (Without fear I am thrving).

I have officially been in Antigua, Guatemala for a week now (as of 1 AM this morning). It is only now that I have been able to sit down and share all that has happened, it has been so much. First impressions? I awoke my first day and walked to third floor of my simple but beautiful Guatemalan home, the terrace overlooking the whole city. Rooftops in Guatemala, they are a gathering place. Laundry, lawn chairs, life scatters across these opened spaces, for people don't have lawns to play in. No, rather this view is all, and it is preferred-if not for the open space and fresh air than for the view. Ten miles from my rooftop is a geographic entity that I have never before witnessed, only heard of its power to destroy. But Volcan Agua, in all 12,000 feet of its presence, only shows to me the power to create. It creates an impression that lasts, for no matter what has happened since, I simply look to its jutting peak and realize the beauty of God's creation all around me. And that is just mother nature.

The streets of Guatemala are winding and jagged, you must bend and twist and skip and fold within their cobbled ways.The shops of Guatemala are painted in ancient pastel hues of yellow and orange and purple and blue, all strangely enough the colors of the sun as it touches the horizon. The architecture of Guatemala is rich with history and life, untouched and left as was for all to see the life that is in this culture, in these people.

The people. Los gentes bellos. They are grateful, they are warm, they are inviting, they are curious. Or perhaps that is just how I view them because it is how I am towards them. My first day I met a man with a shirt that said "I (Heart) Dave Grohl" Mi amigo mejor en Los Estados Unidos amo el Foo Fighters! Is what I told him, Si, que bonita is all they ever say. I attempted to show him the symbol for rock 'n' roll, he only smiled and wondered who el Foo Fighters was.

My second day I met a boy on the bus (the bus taking an American, German and 10 Guatemalans to the pear orchards to pick fruit for the people of Jocotenango, the people I aim to win over and work with for the next six weeks). I can never understand their names, and they always think mine is "Alan", but whatever. Esta es una expresion en ingles, para su novia, es un sobre nombre-el rayo del sol. Comprendes? My attempt to connect our commonalities (a girlfriend) with the shining sun that day, perhaps went in vain, but he smiled and saw the energy with which I spoke, probably wondering what I was doing trying to speak his language.

I am learning quickly. Su espanol es muy bien, the people say. Dispacio, soy apprendiendo dia a dia I humbly say to them. "I wish I had your energy, your inhibition, your love for life," others say, as they watch me chase after a runaway dog on the jagged Guatemalan streets, making a friend with a young Guatemalan boy, all without saying a word.

My third day I met a woman on the bus. Quiero te invitar a mi casa, she said after only moments of conversation, begun by myself, continued with the help of Liz (who speaks more Spanish than I, everyone does actually). No porque? I said, my attempt to express no reason why I would not go have coffee with a strange Guatemalan woman who I just met, and at her house. Meeting at the bus stop hours later, she welcomed us into her home, told us of her family, her loneliness, describing in great detail and emotion her life story to the point we were at.

While Liz translated, I often didn't need it, for I could see the pain, the history in this woman's life. She needed me, I needed her. Se espanol, necessitas apprendir espanol, she said Se ingles, necessitas apprendir ingles I said back to her, and the realization that we wanted to share in each others language resulted in Que bonita! Vamos ser amigos mejor! And Spanish laughter and realizations followed, a new friendship formed in only my third day in this country, with only a month of untrained Spanish under my belt. We meet for lunch again this Friday.

On my fourth day I met the indigenous culture of the Mayans. After a journey to the breathtaking waterscape of Lago Atitlan, with my gringo company (Katie, Jake, and Carrie-strangely enough all people who are connected to me through San Antonio, Trinity) I settled in the mostly hidden community of San Pedro for Dia del San Pedro a celebration of the god who represents their town. Weathered faces rested under woven headresses, whose intracacies must have taken weeks of patience and tradition to create. A people whose ceremony at one time would never have been witnessed by a white man, my mind wandered to a place where the rawness of these people was still wholly theirs. To imagine their lives without color TVs and mojitos and a life led by tourism. The incense in the air painted a picture of what this life must have been like, reflection in between the scents showed me a life extraordinary.

On my fifth day I met Frustration. Taking the back seat in conversations of negotiation, always having to ask someone else what is going, never really understanding for yourself what is happening. For the first time having so much to say but not being able to say any of it, there is no room for you. It is a new sensation, but one which we all must have to realize the world does not revolve around us, that we can never take communication for granted.

In my past two days I have been reconnecting with my past, writing emails completely in Spanish to old friends and to girls I met on the plane to Guatemala City. Taking care of my future, of my emotions, of love and people back home, I finally breathe as I take in all the grandiosity that surrounds me. I work with Guatemalans, with Germans, with Africans, with Spanish and beautiful people to prepare my work in the coming weeks. At the Scheel Center (http://www.scheelcenter.org/), the place I will be volunteering with my old friend Ron, I am creating a presentation to express my desire to help start a newspaper at the school I am working for. These children have no internet, no computers, but they have a voice and I want to help them share it with those around them. I have a lot of work ahead of me.

(Captions of the Scheel Center kids. In celebration of Dia Del Maestro "Teacher's Day")

I would like nothing more than to climb to the top of a Volcano and shout to the city of Antigua Aqui soy, te necessito me necessitar. Mostrame, apprendeme, dicame todo. Es todo quiero. Lo dame ahora, o voy a encontrate. My soul speaks...only time will tell who will answer. Until then, Espero.