Archive for Absurd
No Shy Bladders
Posted by: | CommentsOne of the stranger things seen in Guate is the frequency with which you will observe Guatemalan men urinating in public. They’ll pee on a car, a wall, on a tree, or if all else fails, on the sidewalk. The other day I saw a young boy urinating on a stack of Salvavidas bottles that were stacked, awaiting distribution along 6th Calle. Fortunately urine is sterile.
I was trying to figure out how to write this post for the benefit of all the future expats and had sidelined it along with 73 other posts in the ‘draft’ category until I saw the most amazing thing; a young Indian girl hiked up her dress, squatted and urinated on the road. It was the first time in 16 months that I had seen a female do this, while I have probably seen 3 to 4 men urinate in public daily.
I’m not a prude, and I’ve spent enough time with country boys to know that we’re you’re out in nature, or possibly at night in an urban jungle, that you can discreetly step out of view and take care of business. It’s one of the few advantages of being male. But here it is different…I’ve seen a bus driver stop his bus in the middle of the street, get out, and urinate on the front tire in front of oncoming traffic. Nobody seems to notice.
Does anyone have any ideas as to why the practice is tolerated here?
Of Land and Cars
Posted by: | CommentsGreg over at Project Somos shares a few anecdotes to life in Guate that you won´t want to miss. Here are the highlights:
It seems, through lack of communication or something that the property just became smaller. No legal description was included in the offer to purchase, only the total amount of land, so now the volunteers found out that the one boundary is somewhere between 6 and 30 feet closer from where they were originally shown it was. Oops. The conversation went relatively well and three of the Guatemalan Board, and Dennis set off to actually measure the boundary to find out if it is 6 or perhaps 30 feet in from hedge that borders the property. This type of omission of accurate information does occur here and I do hope they are able to resolve their differing positions.
Just be sure you get a title. And it´s valid. And the person selling the property really owns it. And the person who owns it hasn´t acquired the property by squatting. And that no one else has ever squatted on it, because if so, they have a right to it.
I like driving in Guatemala. There are none of the frivolous and fancy things like speed limits, or actually any highway regulations to stop one from driving like it is a video game. The only difference from a video game is that here on thehighway there is no rest button and you die. Wrecks are common and deadly. Lots of obstacles like animals, boulders in the road, landslides, many times cars in the oncoming lane passing on blind curves and suddenly they are in your lane. Wow, this is almost fun.
Then there are the chicken buses -turbo charged diesel converted school buses driven by men with an overt death wish or drivers that believe they are invincible because they have a Jesus decal on their windshield. Whichever the case, I give them lots of room and expect crazy stuff from them. Riding in a chicken bus is like a life and death Disney ride on steroids – going around curves so fast the wheels on one side might as well be off the ground. I included a few road trip pictures to entice you to call your AAA or CAA road club for maps, so you too can make the trip.
It is remarkable given the age and condition of so many vehicles and the rarity of a licensed and trained driver that there aren´t more accidents. It´s not uncommon to see a full chicken bus or a loaded down tractor trailer pass a caravan of jalopies around a curve up a hill into ongoing traffic. Nobody here even responds; there is no honking, lights blinking or road rage, they just move over and keep driving. Amazing.
“Tell the Truth Why You Won’t Learn Spanish”
Posted by: | CommentsApparently my poor Spanish had really bothered a local whose acquaintance I had just made but who apparently knew of me and GuateLiving. He was friendly at first, but beneath the surface was raging, a phenomenon I regret to say is not all that uncommon. Or maybe it’s just not uncommon when people meet me.
Here’s how the conversation went after I admitted my Spanish was terrible and I needed to get serious about becoming fluent:
Hombre: Why don’t you just tell the truth about why your Spanish is so bad?
DM: I didn’t think I was lying about the fact that I’ve had 10 hours of Spanish classes and I’m learning a little every day during my regular adventures….
Hombre: The truth is you think gringos are better than Chapins and America is better than Guatemala and you want us to become just like you and speak English, so you refuse to learn our language.
DM: Dude, I have nothing against your language, I’m just not very good at it.
Hombre: You’ve been here two years and you still can’t speak it.
DM: Actually, only a little more than one year, but everyone in my house speaks English, my gringo friends all speak English, and most of my Guatemalan friends want to speak English to improve. I’m happy to speak and/or listen to Spanish as long as I can communicate effectively, which, depending on the conversation, might be 30 seconds or 5 minutes.
Hombre: Tell the truth. You think you are better than us.
DM: In what regard?
Hombre: You don’t deny it?!
DM: I’m sure I’m better at something than you are, perhaps drinking whiskey or smoking a cigar or playing poker…
Hombre: No, you think white people are generally better than Ladinos and that American culture is superior to ours.
DM: Well, white people do seem to be more efficient in war, better at exporting ideas and/or imposing them on others than you guys…
Hombre: I knew it! Admit it, you’re a racist.
DM: And I do prefer filet mignon, asparagus and chianti to tortillas, rice, beans and licuados.
Hombre: You’re proving my point. You think we’d be better off if we ate like you do in the US!
DM: Uh…yeah…are you saying you wouldn’t rather eat like that?
Hombre: Well, I don’t know. I love fresh tortillas, rice and beans. What’s your problem with them?
DM: Once a month they’re fine….maybe this has more to do with how you perceive me and your own country than what I believe. For example, I think you Guatemalans are less obsessed with working all the time than NorteAmericanos, you value your family, you tend to be more patient…
Hombre: Stop patronizing me.
DM: I was just trying to point out…
Hombre: I just know you’re a racist.
DM: Okay. Mucho gusto.
Visa Extension
Posted by: | CommentsSix months ago I reported on the process for renewing your VISA if you wish to stay in the country for more than 90 days. Since then I’ve learned about several expats who have gone native, which in this case means they just forget about the renewal altogether and go for years without addressing the issue. Assuming you don’t want to sneak across the Mexican border one day, you need this updated information.
I arrived at Migracion in the capital early so I could do the VISA process in one day. You see, if you complete all the paperwork by 10am, they will renew your passport and give it back at 3pm. (Yes, this is the same process that takes 5 minutes at the border). So I’m at migracion at 9am with my passports, those of the Wife and children, and even a few friends. I had completed the forms beforehand, made the copies of the passports, copies of the last page of entry stamps, copies of the credit card and brought passport sized photos of everyone involved. I had made sure this time to arrive before the 90 days expired, thus avoiding the 10Q per day per person fine for overstaying your VISA.
The same helpful senorita smiled and began explaining the items I would need. When she got to the end of the list she said, “When you were here last time did you have to bring your marriage license?” “No”, I replied. She then explained that El Presidente had fired her boss, and the new guy was enforcing all sorts of rules that had been on the books but not enforced for a long time. Thus, in addition to my marriage license, I needed to bring a copy of each kid’s birth certificate.
“And”, she continued, “right now we can’t process your renewal in anything less than 3 days, because of the new boss”.
Remembering the technique she used last time, I asked if I could go ahead and submit things now and bring the remaining papers back in three days when I came to pickup my stuff. She stood her ground and unfortunately said that was now impossible with the new jefe. At that moment I overheard a desperate gringo in the window next to me exclaiming “But I called you yesterday before I left Peten and you didn’t say anything about a birth certificate or marriage license.”
I glanced back at la senorita and raised an eyebrow. She grabbed the pile of passports and said she was going to go talk to the boss. Gringo from Peten didn’t get any help, his hombre just shrugged and motioned for the next guy. A few minutes later my girl returned and apologized curtly, and pushed the passports and all the paperwork back under the window.
I thought very seriously about explaining to her that Guatemala really should pay me to live here, promote expatism and employ people, but thought better of it. I stepped back from the window and tried to buy some time to think of creative solutions when I heard a Chapin explaining a nightmare story that helps to put mine in perspective. Apparently this guy married a Filipino woman while they were both in the US. Now he’s here trying to get her residency, but there is no Filipino embassy in Guatemala, so they sent him to El Salvador, but there is no embassy there either. So they were telling this guy to fly to Japan to get her paperwork completed! In the meantime, her VISA has expired and apparently it’s not easy for Asians to cross borders in Central America, so she’s really in a bind.
Proof that government bureaucracies function the same regardless of other cultural differences.
So as of today, here’s what you need to renew:
1. Passport with a entrance stamp
2. Complete the form.
3. Two copies of the front/photo page of your passport.
4. One copy of the most recent stamp of entry.
5. Copy of front and back of a foreign credit card (they check the expiration date, btw).
6. If you are married, a copy of your marriage license.
7. If you have a child you are renewing, a copy of their birth certificate.
8. Passport sized photos of anyone renewing.
I strongly urge you to call before you go though, and to call twice in an attempt to get two different people so you can double your chances of getting accurate information. Regardless, take at minimum everything listed above, plus lots of small bills for the fotocopia guy upstairs.
Strange Things Seen in Guate
Posted by: | CommentsI apologize to readers that I couldn’t get a picture of this, but like so many incredible things here I just couldn’t act quickly enough, so my narrative will have to suffice.
I was in the farmacia section of the bodegona the other day looking for such essentials as Lubriderm Extra Super Duper Moisturizing Cream, Facial Scrub with Carrots and 371 Herbs, Body Moisturizer from the Milk of a Virgin Goat and ‘The Best, Most Expensive Shampoo and Conditioner You Can Find”, when I ran into four young women frolicking in the aisles and brushing their teeth.
At first I thought this was some sort of stunt, or maybe a hidden camera kind of thing, so I looked around to see if I was being watched, but discovered that I appeared to be the only one taking notice. Even the three elderly nuns (each built like a linebacker, BTW), who were comparing prices on pantyhose didn’t seem to notice the spectacle.
By frolicking I mean that they were laughing and pushing each other around, picking up merchandise and then dropping it haphazardly, and brushing their teeth and yelling at each other. Toothpase and saliva were flying everywhere…and these girls were acting as though they were in their bathroom at home during a slumber party instead of the middle of the store. I thought seriously about spanking them right then and there but decided it might be misinterpreted. Who wouldn’t want to be spanked by Don Marco?
If they were 12 or 13 you might excuse this to the kind of inexplicable behavior teenagers are capable of, but these girls must have been 18 or 20, with hips to match. I stood in the aisle that was at least partially blocked by this gaggle and stared, conspicuously. After about 30 seconds they seemed to get the point and began to move out of the section, still laughing hysterically as if I had just related a story about Maid #3, and leaving behind them a mess that I can walk through at home anytime but shouldn’t have to at the bodegona.
Is brushing your teeth a public group activity here?
Chuchos
Posted by: | CommentsIt might surprise some of you to learn that I’m an animal lover. Perhaps I’m different from the modern-day animal lovers in that I don’t elevate animals above humans, but rather, I respect and appreciate them and believe they should not be tortured or unnecessarily harmed. Cattle, for example, should be pampered and well-treated and then killed quickly before being turned into filet mignon.
If you’re an animal lover, life in Guate can be tough because every day you’re exposed to the torture and neglect of dogs. The people here are unbelievably cruel to these stray dogs. Often my kids’ soccer practices are put on hold so the other children can stone the closest dog and, if possible, stab it with a stick. Yesterday in our neighborhood the children witnessed a gang group of kids jumping on a dog’s belly that appeared to be pregnant. The teenager wanted to charge en masse and break it up, but due to the previous assassination attempt they are no longer allowed outside. 
Nic lives in another part of the country but regrettably things appear to be the same there:
Chuchos, aka the dogs of Guatemala that claim no real home and just wander the street, are not the bad ones. These dogs are basically in just survival mode, scavenging what they can to get by and can even provide an occasional laugh when they are seen stuck together after a little baby chucho making-always with an incredibly guilty look on their faces as they stroll along attached end to end. The dogs that are the real culprits in Guatemala are the ones which are actually owned by people, who keep them close to the house and often on very short chains so that when they are released they are very aggressive and want to attack anything that moves. Guatemalans encourage their dogs to be aggressive as a deterrent to intruders, but the dogs will attack anyone who happens to pass within 50 yards of the house. These dogs are the ones who need to be eliminated.
With that said, since about last September, I’ve had a couple of local chuchos that scavenge around my house. One of them, who Katie named Mama Bear, showed up with a huge wound on her back, what looked like a possible machete wound. This wouldn’t be completely out of the question; Guatemalans can be pretty cruel to animals, especially dogs that they don’t want around. When Mama Bear had this wound, she also had some super saggy milkers hanging down-a single mother who was being abused. She was a pretty sympathetic figure and I started giving her my leftovers. Soon enough, one of her puppies started coming around with her and she was christened Blacky by me-Katie’s a bit more creative than I am.
Like all PCVs, Nic has to be careful what he writes, but if you read between the lines you’ll learn a lot. You can finish his article here.
“Dude, That’s Toxic!”
Posted by: | CommentsSantiago and I were looking at an office a few days ago and commented to the owner that the large pile of rubble and trash in the front courtyard was really unsightly and that the house would show better if he were to clean things up. He nodded like he understood, and disappeared out the front door while we were wandering out the house, trying to envision how things would work if we took the place.
I was standing in one of the back rooms, stepping off the dimensions to see if it would accommodate an executive desk and sitting area worthy of someone known as a ‘Don’, when the most acrid smell overwhelmed me. Not having had any emergency digestive problems since my trip to Monterrico and the huge bowl of ceviche I ate, I thought something must be on fire. As I walked towards the front of the house, the smoke and toxicity got much worse, and I could hear Santiago screaming obscenities.
There in front of the house the owner had directed some lurker to pile all the leftover construction stuff, all the trash and anything else lying around and had started a fire, which was really going. The smoke coming off it was multi-colored and the fumes were sickening. Even Santiago with his four pack a day lungs seemed to be effected by the mess and was yelling at the guy that the fire was “toxic” and that this was “ridiculous”.
As I was fashioning my handkerchiefs(thoughtfully brought by a mule last December and normally reserved for little boy noses or female tears), around my face, the guy stoking the fire responded to Santiago in the most amusing fashion, “Si, es muy toxico” and continued to throw more plastic trash and buckets half-full of unknown chemicals. Santiago looked at me as if to make sure I was seeing the same thing he was.
I had a little flashback to the guys working in the finca next door who were burning huge piles of rubbish at the base of my back wall, doing everything they could to stay upwind without thinking anything of the smoke filling my house, and ignoring my pleas to cease “por que es muy malo para mi ninos”.
I realized immediately that so many of the uneducated people here are basically like children, intuitive enough to realize the danger and threat to their health, but not aware enough to consider that their actions can be detrimental to others.
Santiago had now stopped making observations and began giving orders:
Santiago: Put this fire out, immediately!
Hombre: El dueño me dijo que me queme toda la basura.
Santiago: I’m telling you to put it out, muy rapido!
Hombre: Está bien, pero yo no tengo una manguera …
Santiago: Take one of these buckets and fill it up with water!
Hombre: Muy bien, ¿sabes dónde está el agua?
Santiago: Probably in the pila.
Hombre: Bueno, eso es una buena idea.
Needless to say we didn’t rent the space.
A New Low in Guate
Posted by: | CommentsA few months back when I reported about the attorneys going around town telling people that the Wife and I had stolen our children, I was pretty upset. It’s a small town and when you’re trying to do business and people are willing to touch on an issue that is as hot and sensitive as adoptions/stolen children, well, I was pretty hot about it.
Today brought me to the worst feelings I’ve had about this place in 15 months. Let me give you some background; on a frequent basis the Wife or I take the kids out into the neighborhood or in the empty lot next door and they kick the soccer ball around, climb trees and basically do harmless, old-fashioned kid stuff. One of us always accompanies them for their own safety and to make sure everyone is well-behaved.
Over the last few weeks, there have been some strange happenings. One of the kids told me that he thought someone had thrown a rock at him. I didn’t pay it much attention since he couldn’t actually point a finger, but the next day he had a huge bruise on his leg. It’s hard to place blame when you’re a rough and tumble kid and you have a mysterious bruise.
Well, a few days later the Wife was sitting with the kids and got hit by another mysterious flying rock. She looked around and wasn’t able to place where the rock had come from or who might have thrown it.
Today the Wife and kids were outside playing when the two year-old suddenly dropped to the ground and after those long seconds of silence which preface an outburst, began screaming wildly. We wouldn’t have had any clue except that at the exact same instant the Wife was hit by a small piece of brick which presumably ricocheted off the baby or originated from the same place.
The impact left a gash and a huge knot, not bad enough for an emergency room trip but pretty severe. I surveyed the scene with a neighbor and we quickly ruled out about 270 degrees of the field as an origin for the rock based on the wall that separates the neighborhood from the street, dense trees and our own house. The severity of the impact on the baby’s head and the substantial bruising left by the previous projectiles pointed toward a device, unless Nolan Ryan is hiding behind a tree and throwing 90 mph rocks and broken bricks.
We found nothing, but my suspicion was immediately centered on a kid with a slingshot. Regrettably, we didn’t find such a kid, in fact, we found nothing at all suspicious, there are only a handful of houses around that could shield an assailant and the lay of the land is such that there just aren’t that many angles that would work. However, it was obvious to me that someone has noticed a pattern of the gringo kids playing outside in the afternoons and has decided to use them for target practice.
I shared the story with Santiago, concluding, “I can’t believe it”, to which he replied, “Dude, that’s the way it works here. They hate you because you have money and white skin and they’ll attack the weakest, most defenseless member of your family with a slingshot and then slip back into the shadows. Even if you caught them red handed their parents wouldn’t do anything; they probably know about it and approve. You’re lucky they weren’t using marbles, which is their favorite weapon.”
So, I hung up the phone and counted to 10. I don’t lose my temper easily, but neither do I take kindly to people attacking my family. The kids on the soccer fields who responded to gringo goals by throwing rocks was bad, the licensiados lying about my family around town was pretty bad, but this stuff is deadly. A small child hit with a brick could be fatal, and I know better than to imagine that anyone here would care if a gringo toddler was blinded, impaired or killed by a Guatemalan kid with a slingshot.
It’s not that kids around the world aren’t bad and don’t throw rocks or use BB guns, but realizing that someone has staked us out and is methodically taking shots at little kids…and who knows how many attempts there have been that have gone unnoticed? It makes sense that if you’re armed with a slingshot or some other device that you’re going to miss more often than hit, so somebody has been working hard at this.
So, I’m kind of down on life beyond the gated community at the moment. It’s sinking in that it doesn’t matter how safe I feel around town if the moment my baby steps outside the door he’s target practice for would-be snipers. I know some of you readers will laugh at my concern over what is undoubtedly nothing compared to the violence some experience regularly, but when I think about how close we came today to losing a child, I get sick to my stomach and wonder what my hand in it would have been since I am the one who brought my children into this culture.
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