a long weekend
we decided not to go to chichicastenango in the end, as we felt that trying to go there and to quetzaltenango both in one long weekend would be too much of a rush. we're saving chichi for another weekend. in the mean time, last weekend was great. monday and tuesday was day of the dead (latin american festival in which deceased family and friends are remembered), which further divides into all saints day on the monday and all souls day on the tuesday... i think. additionally, we have wednesdays off at la cambalacha, so this meant we had a very welcome 5 days off in total.
it was lucas' 8th birthday party on the saturday, so we stayed in san marcos for the day and ate tortillas and pizza and an inordinate number of different cakes, whilst watching lucas and friends destroy the giant piñata with a baseball bat. in the evening we went to a restaurant called fé and met with brittany afterwards for a couple of drinks. we were only there for a few hours, but we bumped into many people we knew in that time. there exists a pleasant sense of community in this village.
on sunday morning we took our shuttle to quetzaltenango (or xela, as it's more commonly called). we were driven up some incredibly steep and ridiculously potholed roads, and just as the peaks were beginning to fall out of sight, we saw one of them erupt. a thick cloud of grey slowly emanated from the cone, but we couldn't see any lava. i'm assuming this was a fairly small and routine eruption, as san marcos and the lake were still here upon our return on wednesday (although, without having any contact with anyone from san marcos in our absence, we had been wondering...).
about an hour into our journey, our minibus was swapped for a noticeably more comfortable saloon, which took us the rest of the way (another hour or so) to xela. as with the roads from guatemala city to antigua, the dual carriages here were closed in many places due to recent landslides, which meant that traffic would have to cross to the other side of the road for the duration of the landslide blockage. i don't know how frequently these landslides occur, but i have yet to see one happen for myself.
quetzaltenango is the second largest city in guatemala, but for its size, i didn't think it had that much to offer. having said that, i did like the seemingly small amount there was to enjoy. it was good to be able to visit shops where there is a bit more on offer than bread, jocotes and pasta, although we still couldn't find any shoes for sally (she only has flip flops and boots, and is after a happy medium). we stayed in an 8-bedroom dorm in the black cat hostel, one block from the very pleasant and notably european parque centro américa. the hostel here was a lot more relaxed (and cheap) than our place in antigua, and despite the fact that we appeared to draw the short straw with our room (everyone either seemed to be in bed by 6 in the evenings, or just laying on their beds with their laptops during the day), we met a lot of great people here.
we checked out the markets and had a bit of an explore around the city, and then had a couple drinks with our fellow travellers back at the hostel. it was during this time that we heard about an out-of-town day trip the next day. our original plan had been to move on to the small town of zunil on the monday, and seek out a place called las cumbres, which is a posh hotel with a private sauna in each bedroom - the saunas using water fed from the nearby thermal springs. after quite a tiring week of teaching and SPIDERWATCH, we had been thinking that spending a couple of nights in this expensive place of relative luxury would be quite a nice break. instead, however, we decided to join a small group on their way to todos santos (meaning 'all saints') for all saints day. all saints for all saints - yes.
the drive to todos santos was pretty incredible. i'd go as far as saying it's one of the best car/bus journeys i've ever done. we kept going up and up through the ever-changing guatemalan countryside, with tall pines and a sheer drop flanking us on either side one moment, and arid plains with the odd cactus and rock formation the next. we started at an altitude of 2300 metres in xela, and reached 3500m at one point before hurtling back down to 2500m at todos santos via an increasingly precarious dirt road for the final hour or so of the journey. i felt surprisingly awake for the majority of the drive (i was the only one awake for much of the journey - including the driver), considering we were up at 0530 to get the bus. so much for leaving those early starts behind, eh? at one point the clouds were so thick and low to the ground that pictures i took looked as though they had been taken from a plane. after an hour or so of driving through an impenetrable wall of mist, our path suddenly elevated us above the clouds, and all was brilliantly blue-skied and sunny. we stopped for a jimmy at a monument in the middle of nowhere, and got a chance to watch the clouds spill over the cliff tops in our wake.
all saints day in todos santos sees what has been described to me as 'a classic guatemalan tradition'. a congregation of out-of-town men, varied in age, start drinking copious amounts of spirits the night before (and solidly through till morning), taking to horses from 8am to 5pm the next day (all saints day). on a 500m stretch of sandy track located on the outskirts of the town centre, the visibly inebriated men ride their horses up and down the straight, downing a fresh shot of spirits upon completion of each lap, until they can literally ride no more. the purpose of this strange tradition was unclear, so we enquired with some locals, only to find out that it was purely for pride. as though this affair were not odd enough, the horsemen additionally carry live chickens along the track with them, swinging them about their heads until the chicken's neck breaks. again, the motives for this are unclear. it seems rather brutal to me, and i'm not entirely sure it is consistent with my increasing vegetarian views. but i'm equally sure that the chicken wouldn't go to waste around here, even if the method of killing is somewhat barbaric.
perhaps the most strange thing about the event, though, is that for the vast numbers of people who turn up, there is next to no noise - no applause or cheering or anything. the only noises heard are the variety of sounds made by the horseriders, which vary from kisses of encouragement to the desperate groans of a man trying not to fall, the inevitable and unceremonious thud of a man falling from his horse to the sand (accompanied with a muted but almost palpable gasp), and the sounds of the horses themselves.
if a man falls from his horse and is killed, it is seen as good luck for the festival (obviously not good luck for the man himself). we did see one extremely intoxicated man fall from his horse right in front of us, landing headfirst on one of the wooden posts that line the track. he was clearly concussed, with blood flowing freely from his wounded head - but two hours passed before anyone decided to do anything with him. the man had no family or friends with him, so apparently no-one was taking responsibility for him. he was eventually put on the back of a pick-up truck and we didn't see him again.
another novelty on this day and in this place is that alcohol is banned, apparently due to the levels of intoxication in the past - though this wasn't particularly obvious in the sea of passed-out men whom we passed on our way to the sand track. it didn't take us long to find a grocery store whose owner had a secret stash of gallo (guatemalan beer) under the counter.
our drive back was as enjoyable as the journey there, but for altogether different reasons. everyone was awake this time, and we became well-acquainted between frequent stops at isolated grocery shops for more gallo. the 4 hours passed quickly amidst our singing along to the driver's choice of bon jovi's greatest hits and mimicking of one another's accents (we were all english-speakers), and i'm sure we could have happily spent another 4 hours doing the same.
the next day, we went to zunil, which is only a few kilometres from xela. sally and i had our first chicken bus experience, which i quite enjoyed. the chicken buses are old american school buses that are often decorated vary garishly - although sometimes, as in our case, they're still in their original iconic yellow with black trim. we boarded at the back of the bus and had to stand as it was quite busy. the throaty spitfire-like engine roared to life, and we became airborne a good few times as the monster bus was thrown over all manner of obstacles: potholes, speed bumps, pedestrians (probably), et al. the drivers' apparent haste is surprising considering the nation-wide adherence to 'guatemala time', in which there is otherwise no sense of urgency whatsoever (which is actually quite refreshing). our shuttle to xela, for example, was 45 minutes late with no apology or detectable recognition of said tardiness - not that we were particularly bothered (we're on guatemala time now too, you understand).
the chicken bus crew consists of one maniac driver and one sinewy yet slender man-boy who collects the fares (usually 10 to 15 times cheaper than a shuttle bus - our 10km journey to zunil cost us 30p) and rounds up new passengers. it's not uncommon for passengers to board whilst the bus is still rolling, hurried on perhaps the tiniest amount by the obnoxious and obtrusive horn that blares out at any opportunity. the man-boy on our outbound bus was particularly athletic, at one point unloading what appeared to be some kind of engine from the back door of the bus - whilst the bus was still moving, of course - and shouting to the driver to accelerate away again before he had finished setting down the engine on the side of the road, leaving him to sprint after the bus and jump on the back. clearly, he earns his money.
zunil is a pretty little town. we got off the bus by a small river, and made our way up the narrow streets to the cemetery, which is set on a high and thin mound that juts up and out between two deep valleys. the whole town is surrounded by towering green mountains. we were lured to the cemetery by the many kites that were sailing in the breeze - kites being part of the day of the dead festival. mike, an american chap whom we met at the black cat, bought a big yellow kite to fly from a rooftop by the cemetery. he managed to get it quite high into the air, but his victory was shortlived as the kite crashed to the ground perhaps a hundred metres away, and was then stuck in a tree and therefore lost forever. we finished off the day with a sizeable group of us from the hostel going to a bar in xela where they had a 2 for 1 deal on mojitos, and live jazz.
wednesday meant home time and back to lago atítlan. our shuttle only took us back to san pedro, so we had a long brunch there and a bit of a look around. the difference in size between san pedro and san marcos is greater than i had realised. i had assumed that, save for panajachel, everywhere was as small and as basic as san marcos. i met a scouse bloke called jimmy here, who told me that he knew someone in just about every city that i'm planning to visit. he told me to tell them that i knew 'jimmy from liverpool', but i'm not sure i will.
the 2-day working week was over before it began, and somehow, inexplicably, it was already saturday again. sally and i chose to go on a hike up the hills behind la cambalacha to a small town called santa lucia. we hired one of my drum students, anníbal, as our guide. sally and i both felt that we embarassed ourselves in front of anníbal with our pathetic sea-level-acclimatised lungs. according to my calculations, our ascent was in the vicinity of 1000 metres, and we definitely felt it. the walk itself wasn't that taxing physically, but after a certain point, we would only progress for what felt like 2-3 minutes before having to stop to catch our breath.
nonetheless, the hike was amazing. the view of the lake never ceases to amaze me, and above a certain altitude we could see even more peaks in the distance that were previously obscured. we passed through all sorts of vegetation - some which could have been english countryside if i hadn't known better, and some which seemed somewhat out of this world (which, by definition, it wasn't). we passed through forests of bamboo, some absolutely massive trees and hanging vines, crossed rivers and waterfalls that, we're told, weren't there this time last year (there has been more rain in the atitlan area this year than in the last 70 years), clambered over giant rocks that look like elephants (according to the locals) and waded through grasses and mud - always keeping half an eye out for snakes. sally thought she saw a little one at one point.
we walked for a good 3 hours, and then stopped at some excellent tree huts for lunch before the last hour to santa lucia. the huts are about 4 to 5 metres off the ground, and i'm told that you can sleep in them if you like. we carried on to santa lucia, which was downhill for the last kilometre, and would have walked back if 4 of the 5 guard dogs at la cambalacha hadn't followed us all the way there. the first three - dechom, panchoi and bansai - would have found their way back by their sense of smell alone, said anníbal, but poor old chumil had begun to limp after we stopped for lunch, and we were convinced that she'd never make it back on her own legs. we managed to find a man in santa lucia who, for the princely sum of 175 quetzales (£13ish) would let us ride in the back of his pick up truck back to san marcos, with the 4 dogs. we gave the tired pups some cheese sandwiches (sans cheese) and water from the local well, and loaded them into the truck. all of them, that is, apart from dechom, who decided that this was the time to play hide-and-seek. after 20 minutes of trying to lure her with an empty packet of crisps, we caught her and put her in the truck too.
we wrote off sunday as a planning/resting day, and finished off our otherwise adventurous fin de semana with a good stint in the sauna, which charlie made himself. we loaded the old girl up with plenty of logs and bamboo, and then added some essential oils to the steam for good measure. jess (a new chap from the states) and i may have overdone it in there with our 45-minute comparison of us and british politics, capitalism and communism - but red eyes and lightheadedness was nothing that a few beers and pizza couldn't fix. coincidentally, sunday is pizza and beer night at la cambalacha, and this did indeed prove to be a quick fix to our overheated bodies. for this weekly gathering, gabi and charlie order in loads of pizza from a local pizzeria, and invite all the volunteers (of which there are a few now) and a couple of neighbours.
i have been having gradually more success with my classes over the last week. i’ve been getting the kids to come up with their own rhythms and using those to create a short piece, which encourages their creativity and also relieves me of some of the pressure of endlessly coming with new and exciting ideas.
having jess on hand to translate has been a tremendous help. i’ve been able to explain some games/routines with the kids that previously, with my lacking spanish, would have been impossible to explain. trying to explain that one must ‘hold the sticks three quarters of the way down, firmly but not tightly gripping only between the thumb and index finger with the remaining fingers wrapped loosely around, wrists turned downwards, sticks pointed towards one another in the shape of a volcano, with the action coming only from the wrists and not the elbows, etc etc…’ is difficult enough to explain in my own language. so considering i had to explain this in my wanting spanish, this is some monster task - especially when half of the class isn’t even listening because they’re busy playing something else very loudly. with all of this in mind, it felt like something of a small victory this morning when i managed to get two students to more or less play a drum roll with relative success.
we have only two weeks and 6 classes remaining before the end of year show. ABCD has more or less got one piece sorted, which lasts about 5 minutes. we’re supposed to have 15 minutes, so i need to write a couple more pieces for them, and then learn those inside out too. i was hoping that i could leave the boys to play in the show by themselves, but i think i may have to play too to keep it together.
we have only 4 days until friday’s charity concert. sally and i are opening with our 7-minute duet, which no-one else has yet seen. i’m also playing djembe for a 25-minute contemporary dance piece, and gabi wants me to improvise with luis-pedro (a local didgeridoo-player) and some french chap called tony at the end of the show. my and sally’s piece is coming along quite nicely, when we get a spare minute to practise it, and it’s exciting to be playing together for the first time in the 2 years that we’ve known each other.
i can't believe we only have 2 weeks left here. i really feel settled in now, and it doesn't feel as though i'm about to leave. gabi has hinted rather directly that we should come back for new year, and i think sally and i would be biting her arm off if we had the money/inclination to taste human flesh.
the only other news of vague interest is that, for the first time in my life, i’ve finally consumed ‘off’ milk. mum has always said ‘when it’s off, you’ll know’, and i’ve always wondered ‘but what if i don’t know?’. but i did know - so now i know. i’m sure there is some profoundly philosophical message in there somewhere, but i’ll meditate on it later.
it was lucas' 8th birthday party on the saturday, so we stayed in san marcos for the day and ate tortillas and pizza and an inordinate number of different cakes, whilst watching lucas and friends destroy the giant piñata with a baseball bat. in the evening we went to a restaurant called fé and met with brittany afterwards for a couple of drinks. we were only there for a few hours, but we bumped into many people we knew in that time. there exists a pleasant sense of community in this village.
on sunday morning we took our shuttle to quetzaltenango (or xela, as it's more commonly called). we were driven up some incredibly steep and ridiculously potholed roads, and just as the peaks were beginning to fall out of sight, we saw one of them erupt. a thick cloud of grey slowly emanated from the cone, but we couldn't see any lava. i'm assuming this was a fairly small and routine eruption, as san marcos and the lake were still here upon our return on wednesday (although, without having any contact with anyone from san marcos in our absence, we had been wondering...).
about an hour into our journey, our minibus was swapped for a noticeably more comfortable saloon, which took us the rest of the way (another hour or so) to xela. as with the roads from guatemala city to antigua, the dual carriages here were closed in many places due to recent landslides, which meant that traffic would have to cross to the other side of the road for the duration of the landslide blockage. i don't know how frequently these landslides occur, but i have yet to see one happen for myself.
quetzaltenango is the second largest city in guatemala, but for its size, i didn't think it had that much to offer. having said that, i did like the seemingly small amount there was to enjoy. it was good to be able to visit shops where there is a bit more on offer than bread, jocotes and pasta, although we still couldn't find any shoes for sally (she only has flip flops and boots, and is after a happy medium). we stayed in an 8-bedroom dorm in the black cat hostel, one block from the very pleasant and notably european parque centro américa. the hostel here was a lot more relaxed (and cheap) than our place in antigua, and despite the fact that we appeared to draw the short straw with our room (everyone either seemed to be in bed by 6 in the evenings, or just laying on their beds with their laptops during the day), we met a lot of great people here.
we checked out the markets and had a bit of an explore around the city, and then had a couple drinks with our fellow travellers back at the hostel. it was during this time that we heard about an out-of-town day trip the next day. our original plan had been to move on to the small town of zunil on the monday, and seek out a place called las cumbres, which is a posh hotel with a private sauna in each bedroom - the saunas using water fed from the nearby thermal springs. after quite a tiring week of teaching and SPIDERWATCH, we had been thinking that spending a couple of nights in this expensive place of relative luxury would be quite a nice break. instead, however, we decided to join a small group on their way to todos santos (meaning 'all saints') for all saints day. all saints for all saints - yes.
the drive to todos santos was pretty incredible. i'd go as far as saying it's one of the best car/bus journeys i've ever done. we kept going up and up through the ever-changing guatemalan countryside, with tall pines and a sheer drop flanking us on either side one moment, and arid plains with the odd cactus and rock formation the next. we started at an altitude of 2300 metres in xela, and reached 3500m at one point before hurtling back down to 2500m at todos santos via an increasingly precarious dirt road for the final hour or so of the journey. i felt surprisingly awake for the majority of the drive (i was the only one awake for much of the journey - including the driver), considering we were up at 0530 to get the bus. so much for leaving those early starts behind, eh? at one point the clouds were so thick and low to the ground that pictures i took looked as though they had been taken from a plane. after an hour or so of driving through an impenetrable wall of mist, our path suddenly elevated us above the clouds, and all was brilliantly blue-skied and sunny. we stopped for a jimmy at a monument in the middle of nowhere, and got a chance to watch the clouds spill over the cliff tops in our wake.
all saints day in todos santos sees what has been described to me as 'a classic guatemalan tradition'. a congregation of out-of-town men, varied in age, start drinking copious amounts of spirits the night before (and solidly through till morning), taking to horses from 8am to 5pm the next day (all saints day). on a 500m stretch of sandy track located on the outskirts of the town centre, the visibly inebriated men ride their horses up and down the straight, downing a fresh shot of spirits upon completion of each lap, until they can literally ride no more. the purpose of this strange tradition was unclear, so we enquired with some locals, only to find out that it was purely for pride. as though this affair were not odd enough, the horsemen additionally carry live chickens along the track with them, swinging them about their heads until the chicken's neck breaks. again, the motives for this are unclear. it seems rather brutal to me, and i'm not entirely sure it is consistent with my increasing vegetarian views. but i'm equally sure that the chicken wouldn't go to waste around here, even if the method of killing is somewhat barbaric.
perhaps the most strange thing about the event, though, is that for the vast numbers of people who turn up, there is next to no noise - no applause or cheering or anything. the only noises heard are the variety of sounds made by the horseriders, which vary from kisses of encouragement to the desperate groans of a man trying not to fall, the inevitable and unceremonious thud of a man falling from his horse to the sand (accompanied with a muted but almost palpable gasp), and the sounds of the horses themselves.
if a man falls from his horse and is killed, it is seen as good luck for the festival (obviously not good luck for the man himself). we did see one extremely intoxicated man fall from his horse right in front of us, landing headfirst on one of the wooden posts that line the track. he was clearly concussed, with blood flowing freely from his wounded head - but two hours passed before anyone decided to do anything with him. the man had no family or friends with him, so apparently no-one was taking responsibility for him. he was eventually put on the back of a pick-up truck and we didn't see him again.
another novelty on this day and in this place is that alcohol is banned, apparently due to the levels of intoxication in the past - though this wasn't particularly obvious in the sea of passed-out men whom we passed on our way to the sand track. it didn't take us long to find a grocery store whose owner had a secret stash of gallo (guatemalan beer) under the counter.
our drive back was as enjoyable as the journey there, but for altogether different reasons. everyone was awake this time, and we became well-acquainted between frequent stops at isolated grocery shops for more gallo. the 4 hours passed quickly amidst our singing along to the driver's choice of bon jovi's greatest hits and mimicking of one another's accents (we were all english-speakers), and i'm sure we could have happily spent another 4 hours doing the same.
the next day, we went to zunil, which is only a few kilometres from xela. sally and i had our first chicken bus experience, which i quite enjoyed. the chicken buses are old american school buses that are often decorated vary garishly - although sometimes, as in our case, they're still in their original iconic yellow with black trim. we boarded at the back of the bus and had to stand as it was quite busy. the throaty spitfire-like engine roared to life, and we became airborne a good few times as the monster bus was thrown over all manner of obstacles: potholes, speed bumps, pedestrians (probably), et al. the drivers' apparent haste is surprising considering the nation-wide adherence to 'guatemala time', in which there is otherwise no sense of urgency whatsoever (which is actually quite refreshing). our shuttle to xela, for example, was 45 minutes late with no apology or detectable recognition of said tardiness - not that we were particularly bothered (we're on guatemala time now too, you understand).
the chicken bus crew consists of one maniac driver and one sinewy yet slender man-boy who collects the fares (usually 10 to 15 times cheaper than a shuttle bus - our 10km journey to zunil cost us 30p) and rounds up new passengers. it's not uncommon for passengers to board whilst the bus is still rolling, hurried on perhaps the tiniest amount by the obnoxious and obtrusive horn that blares out at any opportunity. the man-boy on our outbound bus was particularly athletic, at one point unloading what appeared to be some kind of engine from the back door of the bus - whilst the bus was still moving, of course - and shouting to the driver to accelerate away again before he had finished setting down the engine on the side of the road, leaving him to sprint after the bus and jump on the back. clearly, he earns his money.
zunil is a pretty little town. we got off the bus by a small river, and made our way up the narrow streets to the cemetery, which is set on a high and thin mound that juts up and out between two deep valleys. the whole town is surrounded by towering green mountains. we were lured to the cemetery by the many kites that were sailing in the breeze - kites being part of the day of the dead festival. mike, an american chap whom we met at the black cat, bought a big yellow kite to fly from a rooftop by the cemetery. he managed to get it quite high into the air, but his victory was shortlived as the kite crashed to the ground perhaps a hundred metres away, and was then stuck in a tree and therefore lost forever. we finished off the day with a sizeable group of us from the hostel going to a bar in xela where they had a 2 for 1 deal on mojitos, and live jazz.
wednesday meant home time and back to lago atítlan. our shuttle only took us back to san pedro, so we had a long brunch there and a bit of a look around. the difference in size between san pedro and san marcos is greater than i had realised. i had assumed that, save for panajachel, everywhere was as small and as basic as san marcos. i met a scouse bloke called jimmy here, who told me that he knew someone in just about every city that i'm planning to visit. he told me to tell them that i knew 'jimmy from liverpool', but i'm not sure i will.
the 2-day working week was over before it began, and somehow, inexplicably, it was already saturday again. sally and i chose to go on a hike up the hills behind la cambalacha to a small town called santa lucia. we hired one of my drum students, anníbal, as our guide. sally and i both felt that we embarassed ourselves in front of anníbal with our pathetic sea-level-acclimatised lungs. according to my calculations, our ascent was in the vicinity of 1000 metres, and we definitely felt it. the walk itself wasn't that taxing physically, but after a certain point, we would only progress for what felt like 2-3 minutes before having to stop to catch our breath.
nonetheless, the hike was amazing. the view of the lake never ceases to amaze me, and above a certain altitude we could see even more peaks in the distance that were previously obscured. we passed through all sorts of vegetation - some which could have been english countryside if i hadn't known better, and some which seemed somewhat out of this world (which, by definition, it wasn't). we passed through forests of bamboo, some absolutely massive trees and hanging vines, crossed rivers and waterfalls that, we're told, weren't there this time last year (there has been more rain in the atitlan area this year than in the last 70 years), clambered over giant rocks that look like elephants (according to the locals) and waded through grasses and mud - always keeping half an eye out for snakes. sally thought she saw a little one at one point.
we walked for a good 3 hours, and then stopped at some excellent tree huts for lunch before the last hour to santa lucia. the huts are about 4 to 5 metres off the ground, and i'm told that you can sleep in them if you like. we carried on to santa lucia, which was downhill for the last kilometre, and would have walked back if 4 of the 5 guard dogs at la cambalacha hadn't followed us all the way there. the first three - dechom, panchoi and bansai - would have found their way back by their sense of smell alone, said anníbal, but poor old chumil had begun to limp after we stopped for lunch, and we were convinced that she'd never make it back on her own legs. we managed to find a man in santa lucia who, for the princely sum of 175 quetzales (£13ish) would let us ride in the back of his pick up truck back to san marcos, with the 4 dogs. we gave the tired pups some cheese sandwiches (sans cheese) and water from the local well, and loaded them into the truck. all of them, that is, apart from dechom, who decided that this was the time to play hide-and-seek. after 20 minutes of trying to lure her with an empty packet of crisps, we caught her and put her in the truck too.
we wrote off sunday as a planning/resting day, and finished off our otherwise adventurous fin de semana with a good stint in the sauna, which charlie made himself. we loaded the old girl up with plenty of logs and bamboo, and then added some essential oils to the steam for good measure. jess (a new chap from the states) and i may have overdone it in there with our 45-minute comparison of us and british politics, capitalism and communism - but red eyes and lightheadedness was nothing that a few beers and pizza couldn't fix. coincidentally, sunday is pizza and beer night at la cambalacha, and this did indeed prove to be a quick fix to our overheated bodies. for this weekly gathering, gabi and charlie order in loads of pizza from a local pizzeria, and invite all the volunteers (of which there are a few now) and a couple of neighbours.
i have been having gradually more success with my classes over the last week. i’ve been getting the kids to come up with their own rhythms and using those to create a short piece, which encourages their creativity and also relieves me of some of the pressure of endlessly coming with new and exciting ideas.
having jess on hand to translate has been a tremendous help. i’ve been able to explain some games/routines with the kids that previously, with my lacking spanish, would have been impossible to explain. trying to explain that one must ‘hold the sticks three quarters of the way down, firmly but not tightly gripping only between the thumb and index finger with the remaining fingers wrapped loosely around, wrists turned downwards, sticks pointed towards one another in the shape of a volcano, with the action coming only from the wrists and not the elbows, etc etc…’ is difficult enough to explain in my own language. so considering i had to explain this in my wanting spanish, this is some monster task - especially when half of the class isn’t even listening because they’re busy playing something else very loudly. with all of this in mind, it felt like something of a small victory this morning when i managed to get two students to more or less play a drum roll with relative success.
we have only two weeks and 6 classes remaining before the end of year show. ABCD has more or less got one piece sorted, which lasts about 5 minutes. we’re supposed to have 15 minutes, so i need to write a couple more pieces for them, and then learn those inside out too. i was hoping that i could leave the boys to play in the show by themselves, but i think i may have to play too to keep it together.
we have only 4 days until friday’s charity concert. sally and i are opening with our 7-minute duet, which no-one else has yet seen. i’m also playing djembe for a 25-minute contemporary dance piece, and gabi wants me to improvise with luis-pedro (a local didgeridoo-player) and some french chap called tony at the end of the show. my and sally’s piece is coming along quite nicely, when we get a spare minute to practise it, and it’s exciting to be playing together for the first time in the 2 years that we’ve known each other.
i can't believe we only have 2 weeks left here. i really feel settled in now, and it doesn't feel as though i'm about to leave. gabi has hinted rather directly that we should come back for new year, and i think sally and i would be biting her arm off if we had the money/inclination to taste human flesh.
the only other news of vague interest is that, for the first time in my life, i’ve finally consumed ‘off’ milk. mum has always said ‘when it’s off, you’ll know’, and i’ve always wondered ‘but what if i don’t know?’. but i did know - so now i know. i’m sure there is some profoundly philosophical message in there somewhere, but i’ll meditate on it later.