I woke up at 7:30 (which is early for me and Peace Corps) and I went through the normal coffee brewing regimen, teeth brushing, in the haze that sits over me until 9am. I hobbled downstairs with my corte (woven skirt) held up around me but not tied, and my güipil (woven blouse) on with my faja (woven belt) resting on my shoulder, and said “Saqarik” to the three women who have been my home for the last two years.

They sat around the plancha eating reheated tortillas and what appeared to be green beans. Food is food all day long here. There’s no such thing as “breakfast food” or “dinner food,” it’s simply food. For example: eggs and beans, acceptable for any meal, spaghetti for breakfast, chicken, cooked herbs, soup, it’s all good any time. I don’t know who came up with the concept of “Breakfast Food” but eggs don’t fit that category here. Nor is coffee just a breakfast thing, it’s a drink for breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, and after dinner. It’s because there’s not actually a formidable amount of caffeine in it because it’s so weak (and sugary). Clara was at the sink and walked over to help me tie my skirt. I warned her the night before I’d need a tying hand. I can put on the traje by myself but she does such a better job. It stayed on all day today without tightening.

I carried my coffee, folder and purse out the door. “E na” I said to the family. “Me voy.” I had even applied sunscreen for the sun which had mysteriously disappeared the past 5 days, but was back and shining bright. “Saqirik” I as I passed people on the street. “Good morning.”

I got to school too early. I guess I got the times confused. So I asked around for Profe Miguel. Once I found him we sat outside on a simple wooden bench. We exchanged normal chit-chat. I hate chit-chat. It’s worse in traje because the clothing is so tight around your waist and that is how it feels to chit-chat: constricting. But it is costumbre here. Just like eating beans and tortillas for breakfast. And I don’t know Profe Miguel that well, I am still surprised he opted to do the workshop I’m offering, so the lack of familiarity between us called for additional chit-chat. “Atlanta” ¿Dónde es su pueblo? “Yes I’m used to it here.” ¿Se acostumbró aquí? “I am looking to study to get my Masters. “¿Qué piensas hacer después?” These almost daily questions never thrill me, but definitely not at 8:15am.

Funny thing is, he lives right next door. I look over my balcony into his backyard and can see him and his 2 year-old chopping firewood together. I even pay them to share their internet.

Did I mention? Social media revealed that someone I did a lot of theatre with in college was at the freaking Oscars? Not only was he at The Oscars, he was sitting next to Sarah freaking Paulsen in one of the seats that gets broadcast? Now, we can all agree that my life is beautiful and wonderful, but it is almost the exact opposite of The Oscars. I only listen to roosters crow all night and the Evangelical church play early into the morning and feel the whole house shake when buses go by. All of that (well… er…) was my choice (ish?) but sometimes, it’s not what you need to feel green with envy on Monday morning when you’re just trying to get out of bed and tie your corte on so it doesn’t fall off on your commute.

After 20 minutes of chit-chat and sunshine, we entered a classroom upstairs and he did two charlas: types of drugs (alucinógenos, estimulantes, depresores) and the effects of these drugs. He was all powerpointed up and ready. I was impressed by his preparation. I thought he did a good job and I made sure to say so on my “observation” sheets. I shook his hand, handed him my reflections, and we planned for the next Monday and Tuesday.

Next I saw the other teacher doing the workshop with me at receso, we sat at the same table to eat refa. I hadn’t had breakfast yet so I opted for a tostada and went back for a chuchito, both with lots of Picamás. I <3 Picamás. It’s a green hot sauce with a chiltepe base and the color of green is like happiness. It doesn’t look totally natural or unnatural, but it’s Picamás. I asked Seño Magda: “We’re working tomorrow, right?”
Magda: “No, we’re working Wednesday.”
Natalie: “Hmmm it’s just that, I wrote it down last week, we planned to do two sessions tomorrow, Tuesday.”
Magda: “¿Qué hacemos?” Porque mañana tenemos reunión hasta las 9.”
Natalie: “Pues no lo sé… Porque no lo puedo hacer el miércoles, disculpe.”
—-
Natalie: “Tal vez, ¿trabajamos el jueves?”
Magda: “Está bien.”
Natalie: “Dos temas, verdad.”
Magda: “Dos temas.”
Natalie: “Muy bien.”
AND, as usual, I am glad I asked. AND, as usual, had I not asked, she would not have told me. She has my phone number, Whatsapp.. It doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t have told me.
—
Next I waited for Profe Roberto and the next session. I saw him leaving the school at recess and said: “I’ll be back in 30 minutes” when his class started in 10. I entered the classroom with rambunctious primero kids (akin to 6th graders). I posted up at a desk and waited. I tried not to make eye contact because, this is middle school, eat or be eaten. Class was supposed to start at 10:45. I pulled out a piece of scrap paper and pen for woolgathering. I looked at my phone: 10:58. At 11:05 he arrived, we had 15 minutes for a 35 minute session. Normal.
Yesterday (Sunday) I tried to confirm two sessions: one for Monday afternoon and one for Tuesday afternoon, both of which were waylaid by other activities.
As usual, I am glad I asked. AND, as usual, had I not asked, they would not have told me.

And somehow, all of this back and forth and dance of last minute activities is so totally predictable to me now. It doesn’t make me thrilled but it doesn’t surprise me at all anymore, in fact I have come to expect it and try to plan with the changes. Basically I allow for twice the amount of time it takes to get anything done. In fact, that’s my advice to all Peace Corps Volunteers. No I don’t know your host countries, but if they are anything like Guatemala, plan twice the amount of time for your activities. It is the most realistic approach I know.

After Profe Roberto’s session, we shook hands and I said: “Hasta el jueves.” He said “Disculpe por el traslado, tenía un compromiso con un comité.” “No prob, Bob. What can ya do?” They know how frustrated I get with time, but they also can’t do anything about it either. I liked his session. He is a good teacher. I went home and made lunch with Abuelita. Potatoes and an egg and an avocado. My Host Mom and Host Sister wouldn’t be home until later in the afternoon. They brought their lunches with them to the campo.

After lunch, I went upstairs and worked on my computer. I called another PCV about feedback from a training and next steps. I worked on some writing and my monthly calendar and at 4pm I left for Barrio San Antonio. I walked in as the event was getting started: “Mayan Language Day” and “No Violence Day.” This amounted in lots of firecrackers, un baile folklorico and a few songs the students were meant to sing along with. One dance involved the girls unwrapping their traje to reveal another layer of traje which, I know I’m not from here so I can’t comment, but it rubs me the wrong way. I am used to just showing up and taking pictures at these events where I feel mostly useless. It’s hard for me to stop messing with my phone because, plainly, I get bored. But I try to be present. And buy more snacks when the boredom overcomes me.

You see, I didn’t have to be there at all. But I am trying to support the teachers because, well, I am training one of them. So I show up even if it’s not for the whole school afternoon, so they know I care. At least that’s the idea.

Afterwards I checked with Profe Miguel: Are we doing two sessions on Friday, Profe? “Yes Natalie, we are doing two sessions on Friday. It’s just that today we had this activity and we have to provide photo evidence to the CTA for all of these events.” “Yes I understand Profe, I am just confirming about Friday.” De acuerdo, Natalia. Handshake and I depart.

I left in time to jog and at the end of my brief run around town, the whole pueblo was bathed in a bright orange from the unusual sunset. The place felt lit up like the color of Tang or Tampico. It was beautiful. I ate dinner with my host family and colored in my ‘relajate’ adult coloring book while I caught the tail end of the 7pm news and Combate. On the news, a woman lost her grip on the zip line and fell into a lake. It was hilarious, I couldn’t stop laughing. Combate is too much but I prefer to stay downstairs and color than to be up here, alone, in my final month in this house… So I sit on Clara’s bed and the three of us listen/watch the TV while Abuelita has long since been burrowed under all of her blankets.

I survived the last Monday in February, and one of my last Mondays in service.