Choco-banana

Thanks to a tip from Beth, Lucas and I signed up for the Eco-escuela spanish school in San Andres. The town of San Andres lies across the lake from Flores, on a steep hillside. We were picked up by the ¨lancha¨ boat, driven by Cush, a local character. He has only a few teeth left, can play his throat like a trumpet and hasn´t worn shoes in 40 years. Before the road was built to San Andres all traffic from the town was by lancha, and now water transport has dwindled to just Cush.

Lucas and I had decided, prior to arrival, to have different homestay families. That way, Lucas could have Spanish practice with the family, at his own pace. I was relearning Spanish by trying to sort out the Malagasy and French vying for space in my head, and Lucas was learning Spanish for the first time. With vastly different families, we hoped to see multiple sides of life there.

As luck would have it, the biggest festival of the year fell on Friday, at the church by my house. The main attraction is the chalcones, dancing dolls 8 feet high and the entire town came out to watch. As the brass band began to play, towering female figures came stifly up the street, operated by a dancing puppeteer beneath her petticoats. Traditional dances, a marimba band and the high school like brass band kicked off the festivites. At one point a fuse blew and sparks flew as the lights at the square flickered out. The marimba band played on. They must practice in the dark for just these occasions.

My family and I had shredded carrots, chopped potatoes and some squash-like vegetable to sell with tostadas at the festival. We set up a stall and sold our mayonaissed salads, choco-bananas and drinks for the village celebration. All night, intermittent church bells, fireworks, hymns and marimba.

After a few days, spanish came back to me. It´s like a key that unlocks a door that I never could have opened otherwise. My teacher and I spent time trading recipies, talking about the culture of the town and guatemala. A woman I spoke with often, opened up at the end of the week that her husband had crossed illegally into the US and has been away in Los Angeles for 4 years. He crossed right where I used to work, in the desert in AZ. These are the stories I was hoping I would have enough Spanish to hear. Gaining the language back also helped me to realize I had unwittingly stepped into a divorce in progress. Alma and Raoul, the parents of my family got separated my last night there... Crazy to step into another family´s dynamics, but a very real encounter with people struggling with money, machismo, love and life.

So it was good to spend time with Lucas´family too. We decorated his family´s Christmas tree (a little late by their standards, on Nov 19), made corn tortillas with Doña Lola and hung out with his shop owner friends. I love that everyone has a separate ¨tortilla house¨ just for making them. Corn has such a special place here. Our last night we made Doña Lola a soup and banana bread, with ingredients searched high and low for. Every ingredient a treasure hunt.