A few days I posted something in my other blog about blackouts and my brother. When there is a blackout here I wish I could call him and ask him what's up. Back in Guate we're always updated on energy issues because Enano works in the sector. It always amazes me how my little brother can explain the ins and outs of hydro power and then, without missing a beat, launch into a series of silly jokes and commentaries that have us all rolling our eyes and rolling with laughter.
So I admitted the other day that I was certainly biased when it came to my brother and his super-hydro-powers, and I'm sure I am. Still, I can't resist sharing good news when I have them...
Little brother got appointed president of the national energy commission last week. He's always so serious and formal when he talks to the media that Marcela and I cannot help teasing him about him. She called me to tell me the news last week, and after laughing for a few minutes imagining unlikely outcomes of the appointing ceremony, I called him to congratulate him. I let go some tried and true lines and got a bit disappointed when he didn't reply in his usual prankster mode. Turned out he was meeting with the minister (it was 7 am!! how was I supposed to know they had meetings that early?) so he had good reasons not to comment too extensively. My mom later made sure that I learned all the details of the day (my parents were invited to the ceremony).
I've been searching all Guate papers for pics of Enano, but so far, no luck. Will post soon, I hope.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
Ponies and rocking horses
Yesterday I arrived at the gym hoping for "kick boxing" but it was step day again. The beat of the music was faster so I didn't even have time to realize I was tired until we were over. I was too concentrated figuring out the "rocking horse." There's the easy rocking horse, which you do without changing sides, and the difficult one that I don't think I'll ever master. The rocking horse is like the pony but with an extra step and a half that confuses me.
I'm like Derek Zoolander, I can only turn in one direction. The difficult rocking horse requires pivoting in the "wrong" sense and I just can't do it. So yesterday I did the simple rocking horse and managed to follow with "chassez" (that's what it sounds like), stomp to the right, stomp to the left and so on and so forth without too many mistakes.
I'm like Derek Zoolander, I can only turn in one direction. The difficult rocking horse requires pivoting in the "wrong" sense and I just can't do it. So yesterday I did the simple rocking horse and managed to follow with "chassez" (that's what it sounds like), stomp to the right, stomp to the left and so on and so forth without too many mistakes.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Yogurt, vinegar and my eco-quest
I have been thinking a lot about my "imprint" on the planet lately. Part of this is due to recent conversations with Sandrine, Didier's sister. Part is due to having recently read Vanity Fair's Green Issue. I am an impressionable person and after 200 plus pages of good writing of bad news I felt compelled to review some of my daily habits and see how I can be a better friend of the Earth.
Finally, my new addiction to blogs has led me to some interesting pages. I've a Google alert for "Guatemala" so I am constantly checking blogs and pages that talk about "my country" (insert the accent you know, girls). The other day I came across the blog of some guy who was recently in Guate and among other things talked about litter on the road side . He had an interesting take about living with your litter and that made me think about how much trash we produce every day.
For two years Didier and I bought bottled water. We stored the used bottles and after amassing a significant number we would pack them up and give them to the cleaning guys at work who can sell them for some Francs and make some extra cash. The two guys are always happy to get the bottles, to the point that they offer to come pick them up at home. Bless them. Still, producing all that plastic trash didn't feel good. So finally we dragged ourselves to the water supplier and bought three large "garrafones" like the ones we use in Guate. Refills are ridiculously cheap (about $2 for 3+ gallons). We kept some of the 1.5 lt bottles and now refill them at home.
The next step was to get a yogurt maker. Local yogurt comes only in liquid form. Creamy yogurt has to be imported and is expensive. Also, used containers cannot be reused or recycled like water and soda bottles. I've made one batch of yogurt already and we're on our way to recover the investment. We think it'll take us about two months of homemade yogurt to pay off the machine. Less trash, too.
Two days ago, I thought about vinegar. I did a Google search and found dozens of ideas for using vinegar. Last Tuesday I spent the afternoon at home, determined to follow all the advice I'd found about vinegar. First, I made gazpacho, then I washed the windows, then the counter top, the sink, the tiles, the floor. I wasn't sure about trying it on the laundry (adding it during the rinse cycle) but I'm glad I did. I was on a vinegar roll and vinegar delivered!
So I think I'll be quitting chemical cleaners soon and switching to vinegar (Didier doesn't know this yet).
If we think about how the world consumes and pollutes, the 100 plastic bottles we're not putting out mean little. I think, however, that these changes are not about "the Earth" but "myself in this planet." An experiment to see how far I'm willing to go on my eco-quest.
Finally, my new addiction to blogs has led me to some interesting pages. I've a Google alert for "Guatemala" so I am constantly checking blogs and pages that talk about "my country" (insert the accent you know, girls). The other day I came across the blog of some guy who was recently in Guate and among other things talked about litter on the road side . He had an interesting take about living with your litter and that made me think about how much trash we produce every day.
For two years Didier and I bought bottled water. We stored the used bottles and after amassing a significant number we would pack them up and give them to the cleaning guys at work who can sell them for some Francs and make some extra cash. The two guys are always happy to get the bottles, to the point that they offer to come pick them up at home. Bless them. Still, producing all that plastic trash didn't feel good. So finally we dragged ourselves to the water supplier and bought three large "garrafones" like the ones we use in Guate. Refills are ridiculously cheap (about $2 for 3+ gallons). We kept some of the 1.5 lt bottles and now refill them at home.
The next step was to get a yogurt maker. Local yogurt comes only in liquid form. Creamy yogurt has to be imported and is expensive. Also, used containers cannot be reused or recycled like water and soda bottles. I've made one batch of yogurt already and we're on our way to recover the investment. We think it'll take us about two months of homemade yogurt to pay off the machine. Less trash, too.
Two days ago, I thought about vinegar. I did a Google search and found dozens of ideas for using vinegar. Last Tuesday I spent the afternoon at home, determined to follow all the advice I'd found about vinegar. First, I made gazpacho, then I washed the windows, then the counter top, the sink, the tiles, the floor. I wasn't sure about trying it on the laundry (adding it during the rinse cycle) but I'm glad I did. I was on a vinegar roll and vinegar delivered!
So I think I'll be quitting chemical cleaners soon and switching to vinegar (Didier doesn't know this yet).
If we think about how the world consumes and pollutes, the 100 plastic bottles we're not putting out mean little. I think, however, that these changes are not about "the Earth" but "myself in this planet." An experiment to see how far I'm willing to go on my eco-quest.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Undercover anthropology at the gym
I have been writing this post for months.
I am not an exercise freak. I don't like working out, and if I were naturally skinny I would not go to the gym. No way, why should I? But I'm not, so, for the past 20 years (YIKES) I have been "going to the gym". Aha. "Going to the gym" applies to short-lived periods of almost obsessively working out as well as to buying a 20 day pass for the UMD gym and having 10 days left unused at the end of the semester.
The first year in Congo I didn't do much to stay in shape except walking during fieldwork and getting malaria. I don't think I had ever been as sick as I was during my first malaria, and I certainly don't ever, EVER, want to come back from the field feeling like hell to find three +++ next to the malaria test results. Malaria sucks, but boy did I my butt look great afterwards!! The day I could finally get up from bed was the first and last day I could fit into the little Chinese dress Didier brought me from Beijing. My malaria skinniness lasted about 10 days.
The second year in Congo I started walking with a friend from work. I stuck to it for a couple of months, but I soon got bored and quit. Later last year we joined the swimming pool place and began aqua-gym. I still try to go, but schedules, transportation and other excuses keep me from sticking to it in a regular basis. Then they opened a gym around the corner. Literally, around the corner.
Our office building sits in a large plot that holds other buildings: a warehouse, the (former) headquarters of the demilitarization unit, a small apartment building, a doctor's office, a duty-free shop, and a couple un-marked businesses that come and go. Last year a young woman opened a gym next to the warehouse. No more excuses mamacita. I joined the gym in September and was very good at going until we left Kin in November.
Soon after starting the gym I realized that it was a great place to do some undercover anthropology. The gym was a micro-cosmos, a sub-set of the ex-pat community, a window into the lesser known world of the Lebanese colony in Kin.
The first lesson I learned was that ladies here took exercising seriously. Step aerobics were not simply a matter of jumping on and off the step and trying a few kicks in different directions. The step class at the Kin gym resembled more the auditions for a Bollywood musical than a humble workout session.
Mambo 1,2,3, step and knee and turn and kick.
Semi-jump, salsa step, pony, stomp and turn.
Arabesque, basketball, two hamstrings, V step, front kick.
Cartwheel, somersault, split and triple pirouette (almost, I swear)
I thought I could get by just kinda following but that was not the case. I was supposed to follow and KNOW what "pony" meant. Mastering one sequence was not enough, you had to do it starting with the right leg and then with the left one, "mirroring" all the fre@king series. THEN, you had to remember every sequence as we build up sequence over sequence until looking like honest to G*d professional dancers.
I can't dance and I'm not gracious even standing still, so you can imagine how I looked trying to do all those pony-mambo sequences. I chose to skip the step class and concentrate on the easier ones like "kick boxing" and did ok for a bit. Then the original owner left and the new instructor arrived. She explained she wouldn't be able to teach back to back classes, so I was left with no choice but trying the step class again.
Thankfully the new instructor didn't have as much experience with step-aerobics because her sequences aren't as complicated as the old ones and this has allowed me to catch on. I realize now how I have lost the ability to memorize. These sequences are about memory, mostly. It is true that I'll never look pretty doing the arabesque but the hardest part is not jumping without tripping, but remembering that skip-skip comes after hamstring after V-step after backwards pony.
Seems like in this age of artificial memories our brains are becoming lazy. At least mine is. I don't memorize phone numbers because they're all saved in my phone. Nor email addresses, nor names and last names. Everything is saved somewhere and I can find it. Perhaps my butt muscles will never see the light of day behind those pounds of prime quality bacon I carry around, but at least my brain will benefit from the mambo-double kick deal.
On a final slightly unrelated note I want to say that at least here my fellow gym goers don't know where Guatemala is. They may not even know about the myth of Latin Americans and dancing, so thankfully here I don't need to explain myself and say "no, not all Latinos can dance."
I am not an exercise freak. I don't like working out, and if I were naturally skinny I would not go to the gym. No way, why should I? But I'm not, so, for the past 20 years (YIKES) I have been "going to the gym". Aha. "Going to the gym" applies to short-lived periods of almost obsessively working out as well as to buying a 20 day pass for the UMD gym and having 10 days left unused at the end of the semester.
The first year in Congo I didn't do much to stay in shape except walking during fieldwork and getting malaria. I don't think I had ever been as sick as I was during my first malaria, and I certainly don't ever, EVER, want to come back from the field feeling like hell to find three +++ next to the malaria test results. Malaria sucks, but boy did I my butt look great afterwards!! The day I could finally get up from bed was the first and last day I could fit into the little Chinese dress Didier brought me from Beijing. My malaria skinniness lasted about 10 days.
The second year in Congo I started walking with a friend from work. I stuck to it for a couple of months, but I soon got bored and quit. Later last year we joined the swimming pool place and began aqua-gym. I still try to go, but schedules, transportation and other excuses keep me from sticking to it in a regular basis. Then they opened a gym around the corner. Literally, around the corner.
Our office building sits in a large plot that holds other buildings: a warehouse, the (former) headquarters of the demilitarization unit, a small apartment building, a doctor's office, a duty-free shop, and a couple un-marked businesses that come and go. Last year a young woman opened a gym next to the warehouse. No more excuses mamacita. I joined the gym in September and was very good at going until we left Kin in November.
Soon after starting the gym I realized that it was a great place to do some undercover anthropology. The gym was a micro-cosmos, a sub-set of the ex-pat community, a window into the lesser known world of the Lebanese colony in Kin.
The first lesson I learned was that ladies here took exercising seriously. Step aerobics were not simply a matter of jumping on and off the step and trying a few kicks in different directions. The step class at the Kin gym resembled more the auditions for a Bollywood musical than a humble workout session.
Mambo 1,2,3, step and knee and turn and kick.
Semi-jump, salsa step, pony, stomp and turn.
Arabesque, basketball, two hamstrings, V step, front kick.
Cartwheel, somersault, split and triple pirouette (almost, I swear)
I thought I could get by just kinda following but that was not the case. I was supposed to follow and KNOW what "pony" meant. Mastering one sequence was not enough, you had to do it starting with the right leg and then with the left one, "mirroring" all the fre@king series. THEN, you had to remember every sequence as we build up sequence over sequence until looking like honest to G*d professional dancers.
I can't dance and I'm not gracious even standing still, so you can imagine how I looked trying to do all those pony-mambo sequences. I chose to skip the step class and concentrate on the easier ones like "kick boxing" and did ok for a bit. Then the original owner left and the new instructor arrived. She explained she wouldn't be able to teach back to back classes, so I was left with no choice but trying the step class again.
Thankfully the new instructor didn't have as much experience with step-aerobics because her sequences aren't as complicated as the old ones and this has allowed me to catch on. I realize now how I have lost the ability to memorize. These sequences are about memory, mostly. It is true that I'll never look pretty doing the arabesque but the hardest part is not jumping without tripping, but remembering that skip-skip comes after hamstring after V-step after backwards pony.
Seems like in this age of artificial memories our brains are becoming lazy. At least mine is. I don't memorize phone numbers because they're all saved in my phone. Nor email addresses, nor names and last names. Everything is saved somewhere and I can find it. Perhaps my butt muscles will never see the light of day behind those pounds of prime quality bacon I carry around, but at least my brain will benefit from the mambo-double kick deal.
On a final slightly unrelated note I want to say that at least here my fellow gym goers don't know where Guatemala is. They may not even know about the myth of Latin Americans and dancing, so thankfully here I don't need to explain myself and say "no, not all Latinos can dance."
A new excuse to postpone work
So I started a blog in English. My blog in Spanish is 8 months old and I thought it should have a sibling. This is it. An outlet for the many imaginary conversations I hold with my UMD friends, spread now across 3 continents, various states and countries (Jeff, if you ever read this, know that my imaginary conversations with you are exclusively in Spanish). Finally, this blog is my new, great excuse to postpone work and practice my English, which is fast disappearing.
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