One Oh Oh

Well, this is something. Journal entry #100!

(pause for applause)

(I’m waiting here, people)

Ok. Since this is the centennial entry, the big one-oh-oh, I’ve decided to make it a rather lengthy one.

(Hey, I heard that! And no it isn’t the big one-UH-oh, smartypants.)

Consider this a commemoration of shared stories … a celebration of tales told… a carnival of collective chronicles. In no way should this be seen as a desperately pathetic attempt to catch up with all of my seriously-overdue journaling in one fell swoop!

As you may have noticed, I kinda fell off the one-journal-entry-a-day bandwagon a ways back. There are three things I want to say about that.

1. I’m terribly sorry.

2. I assume full responsibility.

3. But it was really all Susan Goins-Eplee’s fault.

Yep, my friend Susan was here in Guatemala from October 9-18th serving as a translator for an amazing organization called Building Goodness. She was accompanying an equally wonderful group of hardworking volunteers -- Brenda, Joan, Jim and his 11-year son, Ross -- to help build a school in a village called San Mateo Ixtatán, Huehuetenango (town motto: This isn’t the end of the world, but you can see it from here.)

I had the great privilege of being able to spend some quality time with the group in Antigua at the very beginning and the very end of their trip (cleverly avoiding the physical labor part in-between.)

On Sunday, the 17th, Susan and I bade farewell to the group over breakfast at Don Rodrigo’s, where our only difficulty was deciding whether the food was more delicious than the view was stunning. (Final answer: it just doesn’t matter.)

In the afternoon we reluctantly left the tranquility of Antigua for the hustlebustle of Guate. Sundays in the center of Guatemala City are a bit of a mystery: everything is crowded and yet nothing is open. People everywhere going nowhere.

But this Sunday was special. We went to a church to attend a concert. No, wait: not that kind of church and not that kind of concert.

First of all, the church is called El Cerrito del Carmen. It is a stunning 17th-century chapel on a tree-covered hill, locally renowned for its beauty, drug dealing, prostitution, and crime. On this day, however, an organization called ManifestArte (“express yourself”) reclaimed this lost bit of land for an all-day cultural celebration!

Atop the hill, by the chapel, there was a display of paintings, sculptures, and photography. There was also a tent showing videos and a stage for story-telling and poetry readings. There were journal-making workshops and theatrical performances. And on the grassy slopes of the surrounding hillside, a constantly changing program of amazing music: jazz, rock, pop, salsa, ranchero, hip hop, and something… I swear to God… that sounded like punk marimba music (indescribably cool.)

And all of it 100% free of charge. What a awesome sight… children and couples and families and friends filling this “forbidden” area with applause, laughter, and life.

It was such an overwhelmingly exciting, inspiring, and uplifting event that it actually caused Susan to say the following phrase (which, according to my research, hasn’t been uttered in relation to Guatemala City since 1927):

“I really like your city.”

[Tomorrow: the rest of the story.]

PS. Happy Birthday to my brother Andy who turned, um, 29 today! Yeah, that’s the ticket.)

(And, yes, Andy… consider that your birthday present. Hehe.)

Posted by elcanche at October 26, 2004 11:31 PM