6.2

Hogar de Ancianas de San Vincente de Paul

Our first day of volunteering began today. We start the morning with breakfast and coffee, and the 18 of us split between two buses. Sari, another volunteer, and I will be working at Hogar de Ancianas de San Vincente de Paul, an institution for abandoned elderly women. We're escorted to a building with a tiny paper sign on the door, ring the bell and are buzzed in. Alejandra, one of the program coordinators, introduces us to one or two of the staff, and leaves us. Nobody here speaks English. We're led to a chapel on the third floor where the women begin their days praying. They are finished and waiting for us. After a brief introduction and a round of applause, we're instructed to take the women down to a recreation room for “Gym,” starting with those who are wheelchair-bound. One by one, we pull the women down steep and narrow ramps, pulling the wheelchairs backward to have better control, down three floors. What. A. Workout. After we have all of the wheelchair women lined up, we go back up to assist the women who walk with canes. After several trips and some lost-in-translation snippets of conversation, it's time to begin. Sari and I remain for Gym and participate in the games and exercises. The women are funny, lively and very chatty. When that's over, we wheel and walk all the women back to their rooms on the second floor so they can prepare for lunch. 

We find ourselves with nothing to do. Most of the staff is standing around chatting, and nobody seems interested in giving us any direction or telling us if anything needs to be done. We had been warned by one of our program directors that, even though help is greatly needed in many places, nobody is going to hand-hold or tell you what to do or where to go. It has been POURING down rain since we woke up at 6 in the morning, and there are areas where the roof leaks all over the building. Sari and I search for a broom and, luckily, find two. We spend the next hour or so sweeping buckets of water out into the courtyard. It's incredible how much it rains, during this season, in Guatemala, and most buildings aren't kept well, so water inside isn't strange to see. Many women and staff members stop by to watch and thank us, asking where we're from and how long we'll be staying. Despite the physical labor, we have fun and I really enjoy speaking Spanish and trying to understand all the ladies are saying. We find a soak-rug to lay down over the slippery tile, and our work for the day is finished. We're picked up around 12:30 and taken home for lunch with the other volunteers. We are all exhausted and starving! Thankfully coffee is brewing and the food is hot. We exchange stories over food, and at 2:15, we leave with coordinator Juan Carlos for his Tour of Guatemala City.

Castillo Family Mausoleum 

Holes for rent

Sculpture next to a Mausoleum 

City Tour

Juan Carlos begins by telling us that this is not going to be a tourist tour, but a cultural tour. I will try to give as much information as he does. There are 25 zones in Guatemala city (our Home Base is in Zona 2). There are rich zones and poor zones, but most zones have a mixture, and even the richest zone, 14, has a shanty town in it. There are only two hospitals in the city, which claims 5 million people. We pass the most dangerous neighborhood in the city. The streets are blocked off with yellow cement partitions. We then turn into the Cemeterio General. Each mausoleum houses a different family's dead. The families are responsibly for the upkeep of the mausoleum: paint, broken windows, earthquake damage, etc. The rent is about 3000Q per year. The poorer families pay for only a hole in the wall, the rent being 300Q per year. Juan Carlos tells us that ten families in Guatemala own all the land and money. The richest family is the Castillo family, who own the Gallo Brewery and the largest bank. Their mausoleum is the largest and most ornate in the entire cemetery, to show how much power and money they have. There are also some fenced off, private cemeteries for Germans, Italians, Chinese, Jews, British, and more. The cultures stay separate, even in death.

We drive to the rear of the cemetery, which gives us a great view of the enormous landfill. Many people make their living here from sorting through the trash and separating plastic, aluminum, and paper. They take the huge bags of trash home and live with it, eat with it, sleep with it. After it's sorted, they sell the recyclables to recycling companies.We drive through the neighborhoods where trash is piled up higher than the tops of the door frames. People were selling food right next to it... I didn't take any pictures.

We then drive through Zona 8, which has auto businesses specializing in stolen car parts. La Terminal is next, the biggest market in Guatemala City, with all the fresh fruit from the farms. We pass Pollo Campero, a chicken fast food chain that Juan Carlos claims is much better than KFC. It is owned by the second richest family in Guatemala, and can be found all over the world. We zip by all of this so fast that I don't get pictures. Our guides tells us about the chicken buses - buses that go from city to city with people (and sometimes animals) crammed in. It costs only 1Q to ride. The problem is, the gangsters stop the buses and ask for "tax" from the driver. If the driver doesn't pay, the gangster will shoot him. One chicken bus driver dies every day in Guatemala. There is a newer bus system called Transmetro that has been put into place - the tickets are prepaid so there is no money being carried around. This hasn't put the chicken buses out of business, but offers a safer alternative for travelers. We stop for an ice cream at a chain called POPS, then ride through Zone 14, the wealthiest zone. It looks like America. There is a Starbucks and smooth, paved roads, street lights and advertisements. Juan Carlos tells us that Starbucks and McDonald's are considered VERY fancy here, and that only the rich go to get Frappuchino's and McCafe's. I want to visit a Mickey D's while I'm here to see if it's any nicer than in the states.

Next we stop to overlook the oldest shanty town in Guatemala, La Lemonada, in Zona 5. Originally, the valley the shanty town fills was full of lemon trees. Then an earthquake hit and displaced a lot of people, who all moved into the only available space. Since La Lemonada has been around for so long, the houses are made of cement instead of tin and other materials, and actually has running water. It is a very poor and dangerous neighborhood, though. So dangerous, in fact, that the police will not go there.

We are now finished with our tour, and sit in traffic on the way home. There's no AC in our bus and the traffic fumes here are choking. The air pollution is something that even a Houstonian is not used to. I walk with another volunteer to the ATM around the corner from our Home Base and pull out some more Quetzales. The thunderstorm never really lightened up, so there is no wifi. We decide to have a "fro-off" between one of the high schoolers, Samara, and their chaperon, Sharon. I am now a pick-master. We tell some ghost stories after dinner and go to bed. The days here a long and full, and I'm pooped.