la vida [loca]

This happened the FIRST WEEK (out of ten total) in Poxlajuj. It is crazy to read this and then realize how much changed…how much I grew…and how God allowed me to learn and grow IN SPITE of all of this. Wow.

July 14, 2011

I sat in the kitchen, flies waving around my breakfast of eggs and beans as per the usual. I politely tried to turn down a tamale, but my host mom seemed concerned that I was going to lose weight. “It’s okay; I need to lose some weight!” I replied playfully, though more serious than joking (I have a plan that with no tamales and a hike up to work every day I just might drop a couple pounds in my time here). Also, I really cannot stand tamales and tortillas anymore. Just don’t make me have another bland corn and lard cake, I begged of her in my mind. The look of concern on her face won me over in the end, though; I ended up taking one anyway.

While I removed the little bundle of blandness and calories from its green leafy exterior, Juana looked at me and said that she had a favor to ask of me. As she left the room to grab whatever it was she wanted to show me, my mind flashed back to a paper she had shown me a couple days prior. It was a document stating how much she owed on her property…a debt that she had to pay immediately or the land she was paying on would be revoked from her. She had told me of the importance of land here, how disenfranchised she was for lack of tierra to toil on and to pass on to her children, how the owner of the land had died and at that moment, feeling the call of God but against all advice from her family (a major Guatemalan faux pa), she had decided to purchase the property for 20,000 Quetzals ($2,700). My mind flashed back to this, and then to the fact that this woman is utterly jobless. Her only work consists of the time-intensive task of preparing massive bundles of thread for weaving at a mere 5 Quetzals per bundle. She is of course involved in the work of the cooperative I am volunteering at, but that work comes very sparingly and the profits are divided among the whole group of women. It is not an income meant to support a single mother and her children, let alone to provide extra to pay on a piece of property. Even more difficult to think about is the fact that I am pretty sure that my small amount of rent purchased all the groceries for the entire family for the whole week. I remembered all of these things, and as I did so I immediately I had a weary feeling about whatever favor it was she was about to ask. The pieces of this puzzle were not looking promising.

Hoping I was wrong, that she wouldn’t dare ask of the new guest in her house such an enormous favor, that she wouldn’t dream of putting me in such a precarious position, I continued to fight the good fight with my tamale.

However, desperate times call for desperate measures. For this single K’iche’ mother of two, this was one such time. Juana walked back into the room grasping the paper. “Alicia,” she begged, “this has been worrying me so much the last few days. I have not been able to sleep. I have petitioned God over and over to help me find a way to pay this” (it was true, I had heard her desperate prayers every morning at six). Not knowing what to say, I nodded for her to continue, dreading the question that I knew was coming, yet trying to show compassion while nonetheless being angry with her for putting me in such a position. My mind was racing, trying to keep a step ahead, to formulate a legitimate response to her situation in English, then somehow to translate it in an instant to intelligible Spanish. “I’m sorry, it’s quite obvious that I have the money because I have the luxury of choosing to live here right now, but I’m going to have to decline and live with you while I watch your dreams of having a piece of land to sustain your family all fall through” didn’t seem to cut it at the moment. I continued to listen.

“You don’t have to say yes,” (really?), “but I have no way of paying this right now and if I do not pay it immediately they will take my land from me.” She reiterated the importance of the land in securing a future for herself and for her children, as well as the fact that God had told her to buy the land (we’ve already had numerous discussions on faith…although by this time I was feeling thoroughly manipulated and could care less what God did or didn’t tell her). “Please, can I borrow the money from you to pay it now? I promise, I will pay it back” (how?).

By this point in the conversation, I was baffled. I had no response. The date on the paper showing her debt (not the full amount of 20,000, mind you…just a payment) read July 11^th, the day that I had arrived. I felt thoroughly manipulated, like this sweet woman had built up my trust these past three days as a means of leading up to this one moment. Whether that is the case or whether in her immediate desperation this morning the thought crossed her mind, I do not think I will ever know. However, the fact still stands that she put me in an extremely difficult position. If I were to refuse, I would be forced to either live with her and watch as she loses her property, or move in with the family of my supervisor, which would prove quite awkward seeing as I will still see Juana and the family frequently due to both their involvement in the cooperative and proximity in living spaces. If were to I agree, though, I would find myself going against not only the gut feeling that I had when the situation initially presented itself, but also against everything I have learned in my program about these sorts of situations and their consequences.

This entire exchange happened this morning. It is now afternoon – a rainy, dreary afternoon in the Guatemalan highlands. What did I do, you ask?

I gave it to her.

And now I have to deal with the consequences.

In the moment, I did not know how to say no to her, though I knew that it was the best thing to do. Against my better judgment, I “helped” this woman who was tugging – no, yanking – on my heartstrings. I now find myself in a terrible position. I worry that I have somehow set a precedent for myself as some sort of cajero – a human ATM. Of course, the gringa, the rich white girl from el norte. She can help us. I also know that the dynamics in this household are not okay. While I truly do like the family, I don’t know how to stay if the situation is such that my host mother would put me in such a position. However, in order to move, I have to disclose the situation to my supervisor at the cooperative, something that I know Juana does not want because it will cause her much trouble. Additionally, there is the fact that I have to figure out how to adequately explain such a complex situation in my second language, a language that I struggle with enough under normal circumstances. Not to mention I have to swallow my own pride and admit that I let myself be manipulated into such a difficult situation.

And that’s really just what it is. It’s a difficult situation. I know that somehow I will have to tell my supervisor, and I know that it is going to be a lot of trouble for both myself and for Juana. However, I think that we will both have to deal with the consequences.

Honestly, I’m frustrated. I’m angry at Juana. I’m frustrated with God because I feel like the last thing I need right now is a wrench like this in things when I’m already feeling drained, exhausted, and homesick. October feels like forever away, and while I’ve had plenty of good moments, I sometimes begin to doubt the benefits of this program, both for myself and for the people I’m surrounded by.

Still, I want to be a blessing to the family and I want to learn how to better listen to God in the midst of things like this. I guess – no, I know – that this will be a learning experience…things like these always are. I just wish that it wasn’t taking place under such already-trying circumstances. It’s just another thing on top of the pile of culture shock, homesickness, exhaustion, language frustration, and upset stomach-that-comes-from-unsanitary-food-preparation.

Your providence, oh Lord, never leaves me wanting,

Though I may stumble and falter, waiver and cry.

I never deserve it - never am I faithful to you,

Yet every time you keep me safe;

Your mercy abounds.

My selfish preoccupation with my own inadequacies tries to steal your stage.

What twisted, selfish pride it is that puts me before you

Or belittles you by belittling your creation,

Your work in me?

It is impossible to fathom your love for me

And almost as impossible for this mind of mine to dwell on you and your glory

Rather than on what I desire.

But it is you, oh Lord, that I truly desire,

Though in my humanity I stumble and take my eyes off of you.

So I ask, Lord, that you do something new in me;

That you take my face in your hands,

And that you turn it towards your own,

So that I see you.

And only you.

This exact time a week ago I was on a bus bound for Guatemala City. I had already said my tearful goodbyes to Marcelina, la ‘Lita, Juana, Marisol, Alex, and Jorge and sat numbly in my seat, fighting off the nausea that was brought on not by the curvy mountain roads, but rather by the sickening realization that I didn’t know when or if I would see any of those people again, and if I did, under what circumstances?

Two months before I had wanted nothing more than to leave Poxlajuj and Guatemala…to speak English, have my latte, my gym membership, my agua pura, my jeans.

And yet somehow there I was, absolutely devastated that my five month journey was coming to a close. I had cried myself out and had emptied myself of all my tears. I was furiously texting my Guatemalan loved ones whenever my spotty cell phone service on the mountain highway would allow. 

I didn’t know what to say to friends and family back home; in light of the host of conflicting emotions coursing through my being I was not able to conjure up  enough legitimate enthusiasm about my return, despite the fact that of course I love them dearly and had missed them immensely in my absence. 

Two lives completely different from one another. Two families. Two languages. Two sets of aspirations. Two sets of logic. Two Alyssas…no…not even - Alyssa and Alisia. The Alisia who had grown to love Guatemala and had even briefly entertained the thought of marrying some Latino man and staying there on multiple occasions stood in stark contrast to the potential-grad-school and well-educated Alyssa who wanted nothing more than to save the world one person at a time.

That night and the entirety of my travels the following day I was just numb. So many emotions, so many internal contradictions, so much ENGLISH.

And of course I was excited to see my mom, no doubt, but in the midst of everything else, how could I really show it?

Stepping in the door of my house, setting foot in my bedroom…it felt as if I had never left, as if nothing had changed. And in those moments as I walked through my house for the first time in five months, I was flooded with fear as I realized how difficult it would be to fight the feeling that the past five months had not happened, how difficult it would be to maintain that YES, they were real and formative and were not just a dream.

My first full day home I got a gym membership, drank Starbucks, and ended up buying an iPhone 4.

Welcome back to America, right? I’m trying not to make myself sick.

And now, six days later, every moment I am fighting that sneaking feeling I felt that first night of my return. I am in some sort of weird limbo, unable to process with anyone here, unable to truly focus on my life here and at the same time unable to stay in the past because, well, if I do it will kill me slowly. “How was your trip?!” I get asked enthusiastically. “It was good!” I reply, matching the asker’s enthusiasm. And I feel like, for now, that’s how I have to live until I figure out what the in-between is.

Is it possible that there is some sort of crazy feeling out there…some sort of incredibly random and completely illogical thing like a love that goes beyond reason and borders and any sort of rational thought that I have ever had in my life?

I am a skeptic, no doubt, and chances are that I will probably remain that way despite this incredible curiosity I have to let myself “fall” in love…to enamorarme. I will most definitely wait for the love of my life, and I am sure that it will be fantastic, but for me that love seems like it should be something stronger than a feeling…a feeling, yes, but a feeling coupled with the other things that to me make a relationship click (though clearly I have not had the best of luck with this strategy)…things like common ground on politics, faith, goals, careers, and education.

And here I am…I have not let myself “fall” because I know that life is not a romance film (particularly why I virtually never watch chick flicks). I also know that logic would say that I am being played, I am being fed a load of lies, I am being manipulated simply because I am who I am and who he is. I know that the numbers say that situations like these never play out and I refuse to let myself be another statistic, another foreigner who let herself be swept off her feet in a far-off land of mystery and romance. And thus, I have not let my emotions go there, and I will not. But the curiosity remains despite my resolve.

I scoff at the ridiculousness of it all, but at the same time I wonder if the things I am told could possibly be true, in some world of illogical craziness that I will never let myself explore. I wonder if I could let myself think that way, let myself believe, let my mind wander just a wee bit.

And then of course I bring myself back down from the clouds, bajo de la luna, and I once again strengthen my resolve to remain relatively ambivalent and guarded and resume the countdown until I am homebound.

Yet in the end, I soften my judgement just a bit…my previous judgement of all of those other crazy foreigners who went there, who took that chance that maybe, just maybe, it’s possible to find a crazy random love, a love that defies preconceived notions of what is correct and possible and right. And secretly I have this jealousy of them, that even if in the end they were hurt, they were able to take a risk that I would never fully be able to take because I guard myself.

I just cannot believe how the last five months have played out. I’ve neglected my blog lately; lots of things have been happening, many of which I have either not taken the time to write down or will never post for the internet world. It’s been a crazy ride, and I don’t even know how I feel right now. On the whole, I feel like my time here has been so split up into different sections that it’s insanely difficult to give a blanket statement right now as I try and reflect. I have had epic highs and depressing lows, I-love-Jesus moments and get-that-Bible-away-from-me-moments, days of fantastic writing and days of the worst writer’s block I’ve ever had in my life, amazing achievements and things I’d rather not discuss.

One of my best friends tells me that in a week it will all feel like a dream, and in a sense I most definitely think she is right. I am already thinking about the moment when I am sitting in the front seat of the Maxima with my mom driving north on I-25 while I am ON THE PHONE (speaking in a language that my own mother will not understand) with Juana (my host mom) letting her know I made it safely to the States. The thought makes me want to cry because I don’t know when I will see her again, and in the meantime, she will be struggling to put food on the table for her kids…my siblings…while I am ‘struggling’ to finish my college degree. And how will I live with that? I obviously cannot let it consume me…if I do it will tear me up inside to the point that I cannot continue to do the things I know I need to do…the things I am CALLED to do. Nor can I forget…which would be the easiest thing to do. After all, how can I think about poverty when I am sitting in Starbucks? Or reading a book about some weird conceptual thing that means absolutely nothing to my Guatemalan loved ones who struggle to sustain themselves day-to-day? Or speaking in Spanish in a plush APU classroom whereas before I spoke Spanish in a mud-brick kitchen sipping coffee and eating bread for dinner?

And that damn question I KNOW will come…”How was your time in Guatemala?”

Dios mio, I am NOT a short-winded person…if you have had one conversation with me or read one blog entry of mine (which you are obviously doing) you’d know that. So how do I “sum up” the past five months in a socially acceptable “small talk” format? It’s impossible.

“It was difficult.”

(There were times when I was depressed. There were times when I had no idea what the hell was going on around me. There were times when I did things that I would never do back home. There were times when I was scared for my life. There were times when I sounded like an idiot and could not communicate for the life of me. There were times I wanted to punch a man in the face. There were times when I intentionally turned my back on the Lord. There were times when I felt like NO ONE here cared about me. There were times when I debated whether or not I could continue to be a part of the Christian institution. There were times when I was sick and all I could do was curl up on my wood bed and run to the outhouse every ten minutes. There were times when I had THE LOWEST self esteem of my life. There were times when I didn’t write SHIT for my GLT papers. There were times when I cried. There were times when I had TERRIBLE conversations with stereotypical super-liberal, volunteer tourism loving, pessimistic foreigners who in the end I really just wanted to kick. There were times when I judged anyone who does any sort of “group” study abroad because it seems IMPOSSIBLE to really learn a culture any other way than a GLT format. In general, there were times…lots of times…)

And then, “It was amazing.”

(There were times when I felt like I had nearly conquered the Spanish language. There were times when I KNEW beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was loved and adored by my friends and family here. There were times I had amazing conversations with other travelers. There were times when I felt nearer to the Lord than I ever have in my life. There were times that I cranked out that GLT shizz like nobody’s business. There were times when I heard AMAZING life stories. There were times when I learned SO MUCH about development and culture. There were times when I was taught so much through someone that that the world deems as “less-than-worthy”. There were times when I didn’t want to leave here. There were times when I was shown INCREDIBLE hospitality. There were times when I was in absolute AWE at my journey. There were times when I laughed until I cried about a joke in Spanish. There were times when I played games with the kids for hours on end. There were times when I sat in my room listening to the pounding rain on the metal roof and could only think “Wow.” Again…there were times. Lots of times.)

And so, al fin, how will I answer that damn question? What will I say? How honest will I be? In the end, will I even KNOW “how it was?” or will I be in such shock that the question just freaks me out? Will I offend the inquirer with my answer? Will I come back “too liberal” or “too pessimistic” because I talk about the realities of poverty or because I support the legalization of undocumented immigrants and reformed immigration policies? Will I be crazy because I want to speak in Spanish, or make tortillas, or eat re-fried black beans and queso fresco for dinner?

I don’t want these past five months to feel like I dream. I have lived and learned and loved, and it has all been VERY real. Mierda…if it is a dream, I don’t want to wake up…I can’t wake up. I just won’t do it.

Guatemalans like cheesy romantic and sentimental things. My friend gave me a little card that reads this:

Aunque te vayas de aqui, siempre estaras en mi mente, nunca seras mi pasado, siempre seras mi presente.

“Although you will leave here, you will always be on my mind, you will never be my past, you will always be my present.”

I want this to be my time here in Guate. Always with me; not a dream…and if it is, like I said, I will keep dreaming. Quiero soñar; y soñare.

Writing a message on Facebook just now I was struck by two pictures: mine, which is of my pale face and the cafe-colored one my Guatemalan host sister, and my friend Karly’s, which is of her equally pale and also blonde-haired head shot and a dark-skinned Kenyan child.

I sat there for a second and tried to figure out why this was so striking this morning.

And the word RECONCILIATION came to mind.

In doing this GLT thing, and more specifically my move to Poxlajuj, I have been forced to come to terms with my own nothingness and inadequacy. I have been forced to realized that (contrary to the accolades people try to bestow on my experience) I am bringing nothing to these people and that, rather, I am completely helpless and inadequate. As I have floundered around in grammatically incorrect Spanish and hand signals, committed nearly every social error possible, and stuck out like a sore thumb every time I left the house, I have realized that I am absolutely and entirely DEPENDENT on  these people.

It’s humbling.

Walking through the bustling market in Toto with my host mom or host sister or Guatemalan friend, I am wildly aware of just how close I want to be to them, of how much I NEED to look connected, to be with them so that I do not get lost or hurt or touched or hit on or robbed. On my own, I feel helpless, vulnerable, naked.

In spending the better part of three months separating myself from the foreigner culture and yes - even the “missionary” culture, of living with my family, getting to know them, and being acutely aware that I am incapable of living life there without them, I have realized that this stands in stark contrast to the history of whites and their paternalism…I KNOW that I have nothing to offer, I have struggled to get by every day, I have relied on my family for translation, for food, for shelter, for companionship…and in reality I feel like I have given them absolutely nothing in return other than my stumbling, scrambling, broken, and floundering self.

I needed them. And in acknowledging that, in living my life like that for nearly three months, I have been forced to live out a reversal of every rich white person in the history of the world who has tried to bring their language, their culture, their RELIGION and said “Here, try this. It’s better.”

Because really, it’s NOT.

And in that reversal, I see the gleam of shalom, of reconciliation, of the Kingdom of God being brought about on this earth.

By no means is it because I have done anything right…I have kicked and screamed and cried nearly the entire way. Like the prophets of old, I pout a lot because it’s not always a fun journey to go where God tells us. However, it is wildly apparent that God is capable of using ANYONE…really. Especially considering how much I’ve messed up and even continue to do so.

Yet here I am, and there are my other GLT friends, my other humble companions who are realizing their own failings, flaws, and incompetency. We have tried and continue to try to bring about the Kingdom - that diverse world community free of paternalism and - rather than being governed by the white man - is governed by that one Jewish guy who said some pretty insane things a couple thousand years back.

Reconciliation.

• I moved back to Xela on Saturday.
• I have exactly three weeks left in this country.
• I am taking Spanish lessons five hours a day, five days a week for the entirety of those three weeks.
• I STILL feel like I am completely incompetent in Spanish but the TWO (literally, only two) times I’ve spoken English in the last…two months…have seriously freaked me out. 
• The last two weeks my school work has been on hold…PROBLEM. Before I was doing so good! I have LOTS to catch up on, to say the least.
• My Spanish teacher told me that I talk too fast…never anticipated that problem.
• I rolled my RRs yesterday. I have yet to repeat the feat.
• She also told me that I was crazy for moving to the middle of nowhere with only two weeks of Spanish lessons under my belt and that all things considered (especially the fact that my Mayan host family does not use correct grammar) my speaking is fantastic. I took her reaction as a compliment.
• Living in the city feels incredibly unfriendly after living in the country. 
• I have absolutely no desire to engage with foreigners here.
• I don’t know what I will do when I return to the States and can’t purchase a pound of strawberries for $0.63.
• I am extremely…distracted. Things are weird, not gonna lie.
• I haven’t given my family in Poxlajuj their official goodbyes yet…I plan on returning before I leave. I also have to do more research there.
• They told me I can take my bear mug when I leave!!!
• My host mom is working on my apron…it will be beautiful purple and magenta complete with decorations and a zippered pocket. :)
• I spent literally ALL day Sunday at the house of a new friend with the family, where I ate three meals, played Jacks all day, cooked, and watched movies. Interesting seeing how other families live in comparison to the ones I’ve spent significant time with…this is my fourth adopted Guatemalan family…two Ladino and two Maya. I’ve definitely had a good variety of experiences.

There is soooooo much more to say, but this is not the time nor the medium to go into it all. Things are interesting, and time is winding down. In all honesty, my focus is everywhere but where it should be: school work and God. I’m trying to figure out what to do about both of those things, knowing what is right but not disciplining myself to focus on either and allowing myself instead to follow my own desires, which currently aren’t in line with either of those things. I want to finish out my time here well, I’m just trying to figure out what that looks like. For now…well, we’ll just wait and see.

Nearly every day as I make my way down the narrow mountain trail that leads from my internship to my house I encounter a duck, although I think that the Spanish word pato more adequately encompasses the awkwardness that I always tend to associate with this feathered animal. This particular duck – which belongs to a neighbor and is the only one I’ve seen in my entire time here in Guatemala – always ends up waddling on the trail in front of me. Realizing that it is being followed, it without fail becomes unnerved at my presence and cranes its neck in order to point its beady black eye my direction. Seeing that I am still a mere three feet behind it, it quickens its pace. I imagine its little heart is pounding and feel pity that its little brain can never recall that I really mean no harm. After about ten seconds of this and several more panicked glances my direction, the duck finally realizes that it has the option of leaving the path and veers away into the corn, throwing another glance my direction just to make sure I, too, don’t veer off the narrow dirt path.

Without fail this moment that seems to repeat itself nearly every day fills me with immense joy and literally makes me laugh out loud. Every time.

It’s Tuesday of my last week here, and it’s a strange one. There is a massive fair going on in Totonicapan because the department is celebrating its patron saint, the Archangel Michael. It’s a BIG deal here. There are rides and games and lots of vendors, and in the midst of it all the government is trying to show off some of its pet projects, one of which is the organization I work with. Because of this I’m spending the whole week with my host mom and some other women vending marmalade in a government-sponsored exposition. I’ve had some good conversations with different people and have of course gotten lots of strange looks for being the gringa chilling at the table with the Mayans.

I bought some beautiful fabric and decorations for an apron that my host mom is going to make me in the next couple of weeks and I’m EXTREMELY excited. I also bought a MARIMBA CD and discovered this terribly addicting candy that’s basically just coconut and sugar. I’m happy I JUST discovered it AFTER I have dropped a couple pants sizes. Any earlier and I would have been doomed!

I have been STARVED for some fun with someone my own age the past…two months that Claire has been gone, basically. To curb this, I ended up going to the fair and playing cheesy games with a friend of mine…it was kiiiiinda a date (that’s me living it up a little on GLT). We won a stuffed frog at a shooting game that my host siblings LOVE and who is now named Don Ranito. I will probably leave him here because really, I can hardly pry it out of their hands.

This Saturday, then, I have things all set up to move back to Xela. My hostal is in order, where I’ll have my own room with a mattress and television, and access to a KITCHEN where I can COOK! I’m extremely stoked about that. Like…extremely.

Monday I start three more weeks of Spanish school, which I’m hoping will help me have a solid grasp of all of the language’s grammar - conceptually, at least. Plus it will of course help me hone my speaking skills aaaaand maybe even give me some short-term foreigner friends to hang out with.

I completely changed my research topic and haven’t even told my adviser (problem). I like the topic much better and think it’s soooo much more practical than the very personal topics I was trying to deal with originally. However, I’m lacking greatly in the research department and will have to make additional trips back here to Poxlajuj to conduct interviews. In all, though, I think this new topic (women’s attitudes and actions regarding development) is much better, much more practical, and much more interesting.

I’m not going to write about the looming goodbyes…not yet.

I will say that I can’t believe the time is winding down. And I will also say that I am excited to return, though my a very large part of my heart will still be here. I want to see my American loved ones, to speak my language. I’m excited for the little things…cute clothes, makeup, nail polish, snow, strong coffee, the gym, chai tea, food not cooked with oil, hookah.

There will be another post soon about goodbyes and Spanish and Guatemalan romance and poverty and Jesus and life…but it’s for another time. This is just a short jumble of randoms.

A random list of random bits of Spanish knowledge I’ve acquired in my time here. Some are strickly Guatemalan, or Chapinismos. Inappropriate Chapinismos aren’t included. ;)

• “No hay nada” - Double negatives for the win. Literally translated means “There isn’t nothing.” Really means “There isn’t any.”
  
• “Fijate que” - A starter phrase. Basically like “It seems that…” Literally fijar translates as “fix,” although I’ve NEVER heard it used any way but fijate que. Example: “Fijate que I have to work until late so we can’t hang out tonight.”
• “Mas mejor” - We like double negatives and double positives here. In Spanish class they tell you NOT to say this…but people do it all the time here. Kind of like saying “more better.”
• “Falta” - Faltar means “to be missing” or “to be lacking.” However, it’s never actually conjugated yo falto, tu faltas, nosotros faltamos, etc. In practice it’s really only ever used in third person as falta. It basically means “not yet.” “Is the water boiling?” “Falta.” “Are we there yet?” “Falta.” This third person use always implies the object you are talking about…as in the water is lacking or are destination is lacking.
• “¿Saber?” - Anyone who has taken a Spanish class knows that this means “to know” (a concept or idea.) When it is left unconjugated, however, it means “who knows?” Like…”Where are your kids right now?” “Oh, ¿saber?” Yeah. Bad answer, right?
• “Pues” - Has like ten different meanings in my dictionary. It’s baaaaasically a filler word, kind of like my own usage of “like” (yeah, I’m educated and intelligent and I still never got over that phase; haters get a life). Best translation might be “then.” In addition to being a filler word, it also sometimes serves as an added ooomph. As in “Adios, pues” or “Vaya, pues” (a forceful way of saying leave or get out).
• “Costar” - Basically, no one here says things are dificil - difficult. Rather, everything “costs.” To climb the mountain cuesta. To live a life of poverty cuesta. And of course, Claire cuesta en la calle (disregard that one…)
• “Bebita” - Term of endearment for lovers. Note that I myself have not used this. Literally, “little baby.” When it’s in another language it basically makes you realize how ridiculous it sounds to call your partner “baby” or “babe.” Never again…
• “Dejar plantado” - Phrase that means “to leave standing” a.k.a. to stand someone up. Yeeeeeah I am terrible for knowing that one, right?
• “Pisto” - Chapinismo for money…better translated as the more casual “cash.”
• “Vos” - I am still not confident enough in my mastery of the language to use vos…a.k.a. I’m not cool enough, but vos is another way of saying “you” (like tu), but very informal. My closest equivalent would probably be my own usage of “dude.” Like I said, I’m not cool enough to use this one yet. Maybe ever, let’s be honest.
• “Seño” - In class they teach you señorita or señora for “Miss” and “Mrs.” But really, we all know how awkward it is when a woman is say, my own age of 21. How the eff do you decide which to call them? Thus, in a combined act of confusion and feminism Americans created the genius of “Ms.” Seño is the Spanish equivalent…a middle ground, if you will. Anymore these days señorita and señora actually mean “virgin” and “not virgin” (yeah, awkwardly learned that one in my Chipotle days when it was a more immigrant-friendly company.)
• “Pena” - Literally means “sorrow.” Here, though, it’s a very Guatemalan concept that is especially associated with hospitality. As in “No tenga pena, have a second helping.” Can be translated as “don’t worry” or “be my guest.” Hospitality is very important here, and hosts never want to “give pena,” thus, the fat girl always receives insanely large portions while dining in a strangers house. No one believes me when I say I don’t eat that much…and they’d rather avoid risking pena.
• “Por fa” - Simply the shortened version of por favor, or please. I don’t know why, but I like saying this one. Especially used when asking for a bus stop.
• “Buen provecho” - I almost forgot this one! Guatemalan cultural lesson number one. You must, must, MUST say “Thank you very much” after finishing any meal or snack, to which all in company reply “Buen provecho”, or bon appetit. If you do not do this, you will be considered extremely rude. The same goes for greeting a company upon entering a room. People are just really, really friendly. You must act accordingly.
• “Mala/buena onda” - Literally means “bad/good waves.” Kind of like saying something is or isn’t cool. If the kids think I’m being unfair or lame they say “Alisia, mala onda.”
• “Casaca” - Basically tall tales or bullshit. I’ve used this with guys. As in “You want me to marry you?” “Casacas.”
• “Shuco/a” - Dirty. I didn’t shower for ONE morning when I was on vaca with Elmer’s family and got called shuca.
• “Estar de goma” - Literally goma means “rubber.” This phrase, however, means “to be hungover,” a.k.a. “to be rubber.” Gosh, isn’t that so true, though? I mean…no…mom, I’ve never had a hangover…
• “Ya” - This word was such a pain in the as initially, mostly because two letter words in other languages suck, especially when they are used ALL the time. It basically means “already” or “now,” and is used all of the time. Really. ALL of the time.
• “Ratito” - I know it’s deceptive, but this word really has nothing to do with rodents of any size. Rato means “moment” in Spanish. Here, however, everyone loves to say ratito - literally “little moment.” Also common is ahorita - “right now.”