“CALIFORNIAAAA, Here we coooooome!” I really appreciate the torrential downpours on my tin roof during moments like these. Nothing feels better than belting the words to The OC’s theme song in bed at 7pm on a Friday night. Especially when you know no one can hear you.
Unfortunately, being that it rains everyday, usually twice now, I have gotten really used to singing at the top of my lungs in the comfort of my own home. The problem is, I forget sometimes that its NOT raining. And I don’t have window panes. I was mid-lyrics of “No es amooor, lo que tu sientes…”, sung an octave too high for me and arms outstretched in yoga’s volcano pose. My head tilted just far back enough to meet the eyes of my neighbors peering through my window with a bucket of my clothes on their head. Oh how I wished it were raining at that moment. If they didn’t think my squeaky Spanish was bad enough before, they sure didn’t appreciate my version of Aventura’s “Obsecion”.
That reminds me of 2 other things. Recently, I had been starting to feel better about my Spanish. Using new verb tenses, throwing in the occasional “figese que” and definitely using “si” less. Then I started teaching. The schools here are very different than the US. There are no windows, doors remain open, and there is no hand-raising. Sometimes I pause writing on a board with a marker that doesnt work, look at the kids running around outside, hanging from the rafters, bathing in the pila and wonder if I’m at Mountain Creek Waterpark or a school. Man does sound travel easily. I have started to become a little naseous by the sound of my own screaming Spanish voice by the third class of the day. So surely me “singing” an off-high-pitched bachata was not well-received by the eardrums of my latin friends.
The other thing: why my clothes were balancing on their heads. I have fought off many-a-money-borrower of my community. But my neighbor keeps coming back. The other day, after 20 mins of me saying NO, she started bawling. It was hard to keep denying $1 when someone is crying on your doorstep. So I decided instead of lending money, which is a bad precedent to set…and often is not so much lending as giving…to pay her the $1 to wash some of my clothes. I think it was a win, win for both of us. Big sheets on small-wash-rock thing equals a crappy morning for me.
What’s a not so crappy morning? Hiking to 3 of the most beautiful waterfalls I’ve ever seen. The morning started by a pick-up truck ride to the neighboring town, of which my friend and I were the bread slices to a cow sandwich. We hopped off smelling slightly like dung and met some Salvo friends (also with their own special scent) who would lead the way. An hour up the cerro de San Lucas, we got a beautiful view of the mountains. Actually looking out at the range where I did the last hike (Perquin). One of the guys with us was in the army so he brought along a great pair of binoculars. It was cool to look down at all the communities: a bunch of scattered cantons appearing to contain of much of the same- mangy chuchos scavenging chicken bones, half-naked bichos playing with marbles, men hacking the milpa with machetes and women washing clothes and dishes at home. This is what you see looking in on the outside. Living there on the inside you see Lili’s smiling eyes when you place her on your lap, you feel Otinia’s soft grandma hands on your back when you hug her goodnight and you smell freshly cut herbs on Justo’s clothes from a day of honest work.
Moving along, we pushed through coffee fincas, talking about the higher profits the men await in November. Opposed to the $4 days they see now, chopping corn from 5am-1pm, they look forward to coffee season where they will make $6. We frowned as we came upon a large slice of land where many of the few pine trees in the area have been chopped away, adding to the country’s devastating deforestation levels. It was hard to be depressed for too long, though, as we stumbled upon the first waterfall. It was a beautifully placed fountain in the green hills, fruit trees growing all around. Sungano, zapotes, mango, limon, coffee, maiz…it was a great location to be midday. And with the sun high, bathing in our clothes was just what we needed.
We spent another few hours hiking the mountains and finding 2 other large falls. Saul threw a fruit at Javier, hitting him in the back and splattering rotten pulp all over my shirt. Saul #2 always stayed 10 steps ahead, clearing the path with his corbo. I wondered as he glanced back over his shoulder if he was trying to impress Glenda. I climbed up through one of the waterfalls, blindly, since the water was pounding me in the face. I swallowed a good deal of it trying to breathe…and also from laughing. Glenda finally decided to jump in the little water pool after I convinced her it wasn’t deep and I wouldn’t let her drown. She didn’t let go of my hand the whole time… and by the way I was giggling and splashing with her I was shocked when I stood up and realized I was a big girl.
The day that can arguably be one of my favorite in country at this moment, ended as my blog started: Rain. Nearly at the bottom of the mountain we felt the first drops hit. By the hike down we had dried off from our little swim and my camera was full of our day’s memories. The drizzle abruptly picked up with the crack of a lightning bolt and Glenda looked at me with raised eyebrows and said “corramos!” We waved goodbye to our friends, grabbed hands and sprinted off, laughing and splashing mud in all directions.
