Hello From Here

Done

2008-04-06T20:27:00.003-04:00

I must say goodbye to you, my blogger friends-- at least for now.

I've become lazy with this site and am not putting in the time and effort to post something thought-provoking or interesting when I actually do post anything.

Plus, let's be honest: for all bloggers, going to all the work of writing, posting pictures, thoughts and ideas has to fulfill something in the blogger her/himself. We are not selfless beings. In the end, it's usually at least partly about us. When I was living in Guatemala, I used this site to communicate with family and friends about what was happening in my life as well as what I was experiencing. I also had ideas and experiences I wanted to communicate to others.

At this point in my life, I'm not getting anything out of posting. The thought of writing something here just seems like more work and more time on a computer, when I'm already spending too much time on one at the office. I also don't know what to talk about. I'm an uninspired writer, my friends. I need to live some more these days-- meaning get out of the house and off the computer. Like the end of a stale relationship: the passion is gone.

If I am going to be on a computer at home, I'd rather read someone else's blog. Or learn something from another site-- like watch interesting clips on YouTube.

We had some good times. Let's remember those-- go back in the archives and you can get your fill.

Who knows: maybe this will be resurrected one day. Or maybe I'll start a blog that none of my friends and family know about where I can spill all my secrets to strangers.

Thanks to you loyal readers, both the ones who comment and the ones who like to lurk.

Hasta luego.

All in a Day's Work

2008-02-20T21:42:00.002-05:00

I went in to the office today, fully anticipating a nice slow day. I even wore my pretty boots, which are completely impractical for spending hours out in the cold.

As soon as I walked in, the newsreader told me there was a huge fire going on. "It's big?" I asked, really hoping it wasn't and that it was something that could be covered with just a phone call or two from the nice warm office. But alas, it was definitely a serious one. So out I trudged, all bundled up, except for the funky dress pants I chose to wear today and the pretty boots. Why does the big news out in the cold always happen when I'm not dressed for it?

Yep, it was a big fire. One side of half a downtown block is gone. Hundred year old buildings are reduced to nothing. People are out of a home, others have lost businesses. One man was almost in tears-- the business his grandfather started 95 years ago which was now his was a heap of rubble. And, something this city seems to care about so much: some streets were closed. Shocker. Transit was all messed up.

While I wasn't keen on getting out to the scene, once I was there I of course loved it. There's something so incredible about being able to talk to people at a time like that... so emotional and vulnerable and real (though of course I always get my share of people who don't want to say a word to me and treat me as though I'm an encyclopedia salesperson or something). And I love the extra access I can get as a journalist. I got to go under the yellow police tape and stand right in front of that blaze, choke on the smoke, watch those firefighters struggle with their heavy hoses. And at the same time I hoped that a burning building wasn't going to collapse right on top of me. I wondered if getting into the narrow doorway behind me would save me if it did collapse forward. Here are some great pictures

I pushed myself, in those boots not made for walking on ice. I did live hit after live hit. My teeth chattered, my hands and feet hurt from the cold.

And then I did something I'd never done before: I had to do an on-camera "hit" for tv. Oh boy. Suddenly I didn't feel like a journalist anymore, I was just a vain girl thinking about my hair, my face, my hideous winter hat... and also praying that I didn't have boogers coming out of my nose (since it was so cold and that cold seems to bring them on). When I went back to the office, of course everyone had seen my tv debut. One person said I looked tired, another said I wasn't wearing any makeup.

Now here I am, hours later, and I can't stop thinking about what I might have looked like! And I'm wishing I'd worn some makeup... at least a little lipstick. Or covered up the zit on my chin. My hands and feet are burning, because I probably got frostbite, but that's not what I'm thinking about. Oh no... I'm thinking about my appearance!

I still haven't watched that tv "hit", though it'll be in the system at work for a week. I may torture myself and do it tomorrow.

So in the future I think I'll make sure I have lipstick in my pocket... oh, and I may also try to wear more appropriate footwear.

The Worst Month

2008-02-10T22:46:00.000-05:00

It keeps snowing, and then melting a little, then snowing a record-breaking amount, then melting a little more and then the water on the sidewalks all turns to ice when it turns hurricane-strength windy. Could it just stop already?

On top of that, my skin is so incredibly white. I'm talking blue-white. I remember when I was living in Guatemala and my Irish roommate's friend came to visit. My Guate b-f was so surprised at her skin colour. The boy had never seen such whiteness. Now I fear I am that white. Except I don't have a charming Irish accent to make it all okay. I hate it. I'm tempted to start using that stinky fake-tanning cream that after a few hours starts smelling like sweaty socks... and a faint smell of sweaty socks is bearable if it's on your feet, far away from your nose. But on the face? Pretty rank.

Last winter when I came back to Canada, at least I only returned in December so I didn't experience the full winter. This time, I get it. To be Canadian is to suffer. Not suffer like people from some places do, where they've lived under fascist dictatorships and feared for their lives and faced death threats. Here, the fascist dictator is the cold. The death threats come from the wind. We can't even start a coup and get rid of that dictator. Every year, he's here with a vengeance; some years, he's angrier than others. This year, I feel like he just won't let up.

I know some people whine that January is such a bad month. January doldrums, everyone all depressed after getting so fat over Christmas and New Years. But maybe this is the worst month. Bloody cold when you're ready for a break. Snow is a bit of a kick in December, when it's supposed to be all pretty and Christmas-y. Now it's old news.

Man, I really am so completely Canadian at this moment, complaining about the weather.

Bomba!

2008-02-04T21:16:00.000-05:00

Today, we had a bomb scare at work. How surreal. They didn't fully evacuate the building, though, which seems a little odd. Those of us who sit on the south side of the building had to either leave or go bother the people who have desks on the north side.

We were semi-evacuated for close to 2 hours.

Luckily, it turned out to just be an aerosol can inside a plastic bottle that was outside the building and not a bomb at all.

Can you imagine living in a place where there are bomb scares and you're pretty sure it'll be a true threat, not just an aerosol can or a ticking alarm clock someone sent in the mail? The alarm clock thing happened recently and led to a complete emptying out of a downtown office tower.

Glad our bomb scares are so benign.

Pobrecitos

2008-01-31T17:59:00.000-05:00

In the past few days in this country, there have been a couple sad stories about kids.

First, there were two sisters-- a baby and a toddler-- found frozen to death on a native reserve (First Nations reserve, in the new politically correct language). The temperature that day was -30, or -50, if you can believe it, with the windchill. Here they are with their parents.

And the story gets sadder. The two girls were each wearing just a t-shirt and a diaper. They were out with their dad in the middle of the night. He was drunk. He was found by police early in the morning, taken to hospital but couldn't speak (likely because of his drunken stupor and the effects of the cold-- severe frostbite and hypothermia). Only 8 hours later could he talked and asked about his girls. One was found shortly afterwards, the other found the next day.

Tragic. The cold is tough on the prairies; the situation on reserves even tougher. There are so many problems there-- alcoholism, abuse, poverty, lack of proper housing or water. They've been compared to the third world. It's sad and frustrating. Yet, the problems aren't easily fixed. But when something like this happens, I sure wish governments would try a little harder.

Then yesterday, a baby girl was found here in Toronto, abandoned in the cold. Was it a type of copycat case? Luckily, this time, the baby survived. She was found by a shopper at the nearby mall. She was bruised and bloodied, but okay. Now, as always seems to happen with these cases, the offers to adopt the girl are pouring in. Not a surprise, I guess, with a photo like this widely distributed by police to the media.

Still, the parents have not been found. And no one has come forward who knows the girl.

When I heard about her being bruised and bloodied, I was reminded of the tv news in Guatemala. They'd take an abused child, publicize the abuse case and allow the media to film in the police station, with a child in just her underwear. I remember the first time I saw something like that on the tv news-- I was so shocked. Here, live, on-the-scene, round-the clock coverage type media organizations do like their shock, but I'm glad there's still at least a little bit of a line with how far they'll go.

I hope these stories will wake at least a few people up. If they can't take care of their kids, they can take them somewhere, where the conditions are a whole lot better than in a cold stairwell.

Glorious Victory

2008-01-27T15:14:00.000-05:00

I post this thanks to L, the commenter who alerted me to an article about a Diego Rivera mural about the situation in Guatemala-- something he painted during his time of mourning the death of his wife, Frida Kahlo.

It's titled Gloriosa Victoria-- Glorious Victory. It's about the military coup of the left-wing government in Guatemala in 1954. It pictures the head of then-US president Dwight Eisenhower inside a bomb (the centre of the painting), the military coronel shaking the hand of the U.S. Secretary of State. And in front of them: dead men, women and children. Some glorious victory.

Fast forward more than 50 years and how glorious are the victories?

In Guatemala, the after-effects of that glorious victory, more than 50 years after the mural was painted. The situation there is violent and bloody-- not in an official war but as groups struggle for power, a piece of the drug trade and paramilitaries try to exert their control.

The U.S. is in Iraq, supposedly liberating the people there. Afghanistan and all the military involvement there seems never-ending.

When it comes to a war, is there ever a victory that's glorious? Some would use the example of World War II. What do you think?

How Puzzling

2008-01-16T21:29:00.000-05:00

This looks like a lot of work to me.

Who might be the brainiac who's going to solve this?

Oh look...

Yikes, it's a circle-shaped puzzle. I have a headache just thinking about putting it together.

Hmmm... does this piece fit?

I think it's time for a break. How 'bout we do something much easier, like smile and snap a picture?

Now that's something I'm capable of doing.

Moving on to entertainment news: and this is something you won't hear about on any of those American 'let's follow Britney to the bathroom' shows... SILVIO RODRIGUEZ IS GOING TO GUATEMALA.
AAAGGGGHHHH. I so wish I could go.

Who is Silvio, you ask? A Cuban, the master of trova music, which is basically like Spanish folk music. Check this out.

I'm just as puzzled by uploading videos as I am by a circular puzzle or I'd put the YouTube video right on my site. Instead, just go here and watch him. I'd even love to watch him singing out of tune!

In related news, the new president of Guatemala, Alvaro Colom, announced that he wanted to maintain and strengthen ties with Cuba (what Latin American country wouldn't want to, with all the doctors Fidel likes to send to poor rural areas). It'll be interesting to see if the connection goes further than that. I sense international tensions with the U.S. if it does. The last Guate president, Oscar Berger, always talked about how he and George Bush were b.f.f.'s (best friends forever for you not familiar w txt spk).

Crazy Happenings

2008-01-09T22:59:00.000-05:00

See this January picture?

Awww, what lovely snow. Well, it's not from Canada. That's what happened near Tajamulco, the highest volcano in Guatemala.

Here in Toronto, where there should be snow, it went up to 15 degrees yesterday. People were jogging in shorts. It was almost tropical. Today, the winds were higher than 100 km/hr, as colder weather blew in.

How strange.

And speaking of strange, I always love the odd stories from public transit. This morning, there was a boy sitting on the bus who looked like he was probably high school age. But he had a paper stuck in his messy rat's nest hair. Poor kid, apparently he doesn't own a comb. And the paper was a folded-up transfer. So I thought, hmmm... should I tell him, "Excuse me, young man, you have a bus transfer stuck in your hair"? I chose not to. I realized he looked like a bit of a geek and I thought that maybe someone had put it there to make fun of him. I didn't want to embarrass the poor boy. So I dug on in there, hoping he wouldn't feel it as I plucked the transfer out of his hair.

What happened? Well, he did notice. He looked up at me with his innocent eyes inside his huge, dark-rimmed glasses. I was holding the transfer. "You had a transfer in your hair," I said. His answer completely surprised me. "I know," he responded. "I sat down and it was on the seat beside me, all folded up like a hat. So I put it on." I looked at it, saw that it was indeed folded into a shape. "Or a boat," I said, gave him his special bus transfer hat and that was that. I wonder if he put it back on his head. Poor thing, he really is a geek, through and through.

Buses look a little different in Guatemala from the one I take to work here.

Check out this chicken bus pic from the last time I was in Guate. This one was going from Xela to "la costa"... the direction of the coast.

Notice anything strange in the picture? No, I don't mean the out-of-focus guy standing up in the middle. That's the evangelical preacher praying, trying to convert people's souls. People like that always make their appearances on chicken buses, along with the guys selling pens, books, magic cream that'll cure everything from indigestion to arthritis and others who sell food that could lead to indigestion.
It's hard to focus in a bus when you're bumping along. Is this one any better?

Not so much, but here you even get to see the "ayudante"-- the helper in the yellow shirt, collecting people's money as we speed along and he somehow keeps his balance.

Anyway, back to what's strange in the photo. First off, it's a chicken bus-- meaning cheap transportation-- but there's a certain luxury in the bus.

It's a TV!! And it's connected to a DVD player. This trip they didn't play a movie, but on the way back it was a show about some big animal in the water killing people and terrorizing a research team on a boat.

Movies on chicken buses, snow in Guatemala, plus 15 in January in Toronto... what's next?

Worth Reading

2008-01-06T19:47:00.000-05:00

I recommend you check out this article from The Globe and Mail.

It's about the high number of murders in Guatemala, 10 years after the end of the civil war.

I've heard the murder stats for Guatemala many times but it's so astounding when you compare them to other countries.
Canada: 1.85 homicides/100,000
U.S: 5.7
Guatemala: 47

How many cases are actually solved? Almost none. How can that be changed? Well, somehow corruption has to be tackled. That's no easy feat in a country where the corruption runs deep in all political parties, as well as in the police force. Plus, police officers are paid like total crap and it's probably pretty tempting for them to get involved in illicit activity because it actually pays. And the country is a total transit hub for drugs. There are little steps being made.

How frustrating it must be for so many people and organizations, year after year trying to do things to make the number of killings do down. Instead, every year, they seem to go up. I first did a story about the high number of killings of women back in 2003. Now, that number doesn't even seem high anymore, compared to recent stats. It's so painful.

Incredibly, here's one of the comments made to that Globe article:

"The concern of Canadians should be that none of them find their way north, end up in the U.S., join with the Mexicans who are crossing into Canada at Windsor, and settle in Toronto. Then we have problems - but if they want to kill each other, in Guatamala, then so be it."

And unfortunately, that's probably the opinion of a lot of people-- this is happening far away from me, what does it really matter? And sometimes those are the people I was thinking about when I was reporting from Guatemala. Did anyone really care when I did those reports? Are those the stories that, when they came on the radio, were basically like background music, as people did whatever else? It's always so much easier to "sell" a local story-- someone being killed down the block or whatever else is going on down the street. People's ears perk up when they hear about something they know, when they can visualize the street or area or city. But when there's killing in Pakistan or Kenya or Guatemala, some people just don't care.

Hopefully while I was reporting internationally I made at least some people care about somewhere they'd never been and couldn't visualize, much less find on a map. I guess that's the challenge of a foreign journalist.

FYI: Guatemala is just below Mexico on a map.

About that killing down the street... my assignment for tomorrow is related to this city's latest murder victim.

Happy 2008

2008-01-02T23:18:00.000-05:00

Feliz 2008.

Wherever you are, I hope the year is starting well for you.

For me, it's starting with 2 sick days from work. Taking a sick day when I'm not really sick sure would be nice. Especially if I had nothing to do. I could just watch a few movies on tv, maybe a bad soap opera or two. I could find out just how many times Victor Newman has been married on Young and the Restless. I haven't watched the show in years. Telenovelas are so much better in that at least they end every couple years, so the characters don't have to get married and divorced quite as many times over the course of the show.

I could check out what good advice Oprah and Dr. Phil have for me. In Latin America, the trashy daytime talkshow is Laura

Think Gerry Springer, but in Spanish. There's always yelling and beeping out words and in a show at least one guest has to attempt to beat up another one.

But no... no trashy tv for me. I actually am sick, so in between coughing and blowing my nose I'm not doing much. I do have some freelance work to finish, but I'm a bit drowsy to do much of that, either.

And since my brain isn't working too well, I have no deep thoughts to begin this new year.

Instead, I leave you with something I ripped off from the Guatemalan tourist magazine in Xela, called Xelawho.

Enjoy!

You Might Be A Guatemalan If...
You tan easily. Your salsa dancing skills are impeccable. You have an inexplicable affinity for black beans. As you may already have suspected, it’s possible that you are Guatemalan. While no known cure exists, early detection is key. With that in mind, the following are the top ten symptoms....

1. The only safety devices on your car are a horn and a “Dios Me Guia” sticker.

2. You’re 34 and still live with your mother, who still lives with her mother, who still lives with her mother.

3. You’d rather decline a sale than make change for a Q100 note.

4. You use the classic Guatemalan 5-0-0 (5 forwards, zero midfielders, zero defenders) alignment in your papifutbol matches.

5. You drive a low-rider. Not because you’re into the whole early ‘90s L.A. style, but because 15 of your friends are riding in the back.

6. Your national tree is sponsored by Gallo.

7. Your kid’s lemonade stand has an armed guard with a shotgun outside of it.

8. You reserve firecrackers for special events, such as birthdays, Mother’s Day, when your half cousins twice removed graduate from colegio, that time you found a good parking space, etc.

9. Like an ant, you can carry twice your body weight without breaking a sweat. We’re assuming ants don’t sweat. But who really knows?

10. In lieu of a period, you end every sentence with the word “serote.”

On a more creative day, I could add to that list. Anyone else?

Silent Night (and Day)

2007-12-30T11:10:00.000-05:00

I have one of those awful Canadian winter colds. My neck hurts, my chest is completely conjested, I'm constantly coughing and I'm on the verge of losing my voice. I'm trying not to talk too much. That's difficult for someone like me.

I think the germs came from my little neice while I was in Saskatchewan. Cute little germ carrier. My parents are infected, too. Kids always seem to be spreading the germs. In Guatemala, my roommate ran a daycare, so our apartment was pulga central. There, kids transmit pulgas (fleas); here, it's cold and flu viruses.

Speaking of pulgas, it sure is nice not to have to worry about them. I noticed a red spot on my stomach a few days ago and automatically went into pulga-hunting mode. I looked in the mirror, inspecting to see if I had other bites. Nope. Then I realized the first thing wasn't a bite, either. And that flea bites really aren't a concern here. Yay! At this point, though, a few flea bites would be a lot better than this cold... and a lot better for my radio voice. Somehow, I'm supposed to read the news tomorrow morning.

The good thing is that this bout of illness could give me a good excuse not to go out for New Year's. I really hate the anticipation of New Year's Eve and the ensuing letdown when it's not the most amazing night of the year.

Hallelujah!

2007-12-24T15:32:00.000-05:00

The angels are singing their chorus from the flatlands today... or at least this angel is... because finally finally I have internet.

You see, my parents just moved into their new house and their internet wasn't hooked up yet. What a nice early Christmas present for me that it's now done. I'm once again connected to the world. My isolation on the cold prairie is over (though maybe a little isolation is just what we all need sometimes).

Hmmm... now that I can write whatever I want, I don't even know what to say.

5 Things that make me say YIKES!
1. Before I left, I asked my mom if it was cold here. She said, "no, it's actually nice out." I checked the temperature for Saskatoon. Turns out "nice" means -15. Plus a windchill.
2. I actually sang karaoke in front of people. I am conquering a phobia--slowly, though, since the people were all relatives. And "My Humps" isn't really known for the vocal ability required.
3. My sister and her husband are flying to the Philippines with all three of their small children. Please, for the sanity of the other passengers, may those children behave on their 13 hour flight and the 3 shorter ones, as well.
4. Air Canada delayed my flight, because the plane wasn't working, then rounded up another one but turned us back to T.O. because it too was malfunctioning, then finally got us to Saskatoon but lost one of my suitcases (it was later recovered). Or maybe that's not a yikes, but a regular occurrence.
5. My cousin allows his toddler to take a sip of his beer. Yes it's true. I saw it with my own eyes.

Part of me would so love to be going to Mass in Spanish tonight, then sitting around the tree for midnight and listening to all the racket from people setting off 'cohetes' all around town. But then I remember how at exactly media noche (midnight), I'd always feel this profound sadness there at not being able to spend Christmas with my parents.

Tonight I'm going to church for the kids' Christmas play. At the end, they'll hand out paper bags with peanuts, candy and a mandarin orange. I think the bags are supposed to be for kids, but every year I've gone I've still been young enough to qualify.

Merry Christmas! Feliz Navidad!

I'm Back!

2007-12-19T22:18:00.000-05:00

Well, the blog is back, after a bit of a disappearing act. Thankfully, the error was figured out. However, all my links were lost, so I'll have to do a re-design.

And what better place to do that than in the fastest growing province in Canada? Yes, people actually WANT to live in Saskatchewan again. After years of having people leave in droves, now they're actually returning. My return won't be counted by Statistics Canada, though. It's just a visit, after which I'll return to this city that the rest of the country loves to hate.

I leave for the frozen prairie in 9 hours and still have to pack and of course sleep. The problem is that I decided to have a nap this evening before packing. But that nap wasn't the 45 minutes I'd planned. Instead, it lasted several hours.

I'm blaming the exhaustion on the early mornings I've been working. I've been waking up at 4:30am, because I'm starting work at 5:15. Disgusting, I know. Journalism really isn't so glamourous. And I'm so completely not used to that schedule. I set two alarms. One within arm's reach, the other a little further away so I can't just absentmindedly turn it off and go back to sleep.

So goes my life this week: setting my dual alarms, going to sleep, slamming my hand on one annoying alarm, then getting up to turn off the other, going to work in a half-dazed state, somehow cranking out stories that make sense, then calculating what I can do after work that will allow me to go to bed early enough.

I predict that in Saskatchewan: cookies will be baked, cookie batter will be snuck and eaten when my mom's not looking, late Christmas shopping will be done at a snail's pace in malls where my Dad will seem to know nearly everyone, a lot of food will be eaten, family and friends will be visited, and on top of it all I will get to sleep in. I will not set two alarms. Heck, I won't even set one. Oh, how I love Christmas holidays.

Seven days in Sask begins in less than 12 hours.

Now I better do that packing.

Blog Problems!!

2007-12-15T10:17:00.001-05:00

I can't actually see my blog anymore when I log in, so I don't imagine you can. There appear to be some problems, I'm trying to sort them out.

Stay tuned.

World Going to the Dogs?

2007-12-06T07:57:00.000-05:00

I recently saw a woman pushing her dog in a stroller, on a street near my office. Well, it seems she's a trendster. Check out this article.

Rudy, in a recent Antigua Daily Photo posting, gave a link to the song "Casas de Carton," in which there's a line about people giving their dogs education so the dogs won't bite the newspapers. That, in a country where many people don't get education.

I also moved in October and now don't live far from one of the city's chic neighbourhoods. It's where all the Hollywood stars hang out during the Toronto Film Festival. There's a fancy dog store in the area, where people can buy one doggie cookie for $1 or more. I think I'll have to go out with my camera soon for a little trend-spotting.

Shocking

2007-12-02T16:24:00.000-05:00

One of the biggest stories in this country in the past month or so has been about a man being 'tasered' by police, then dying. And the whole thing was caught on video. For those of you who don't know, a taser is essentially an electrical stun gun. It's juiced up with 50,000 volts of electricity and the idea is that it's a tool for police to use instead of a regular gun, thereby minimizing deaths. But people keep dying after tasered. There are always many other factors, however-- that could contribute to the death and the company that makes the guns says they don't cause deaths.

You can make up your own mind: Here's the company's website
And here's an in-depth on tasers, including the video.

There are always reporters wanting to do a first-person story. The reporter who pretends to be homeless for a week, for example; or who crosses the border illegally. I also saw a YouTube video of a US tv reporter being tasered. He and the other shock journalists can go right ahead and get pumped with as many volts as they like. I, for one, will take a pass. Just the thought of it makes me shudder so much I almost look as though I've been electrocuted by one of those little guns.

The closest I came to being electrocuted was right here:

Or here's another view:

It's the shower in the house of the Guatemalan family I was staying with. It turns out that with the latest shower head they got, it gives you a super huge shock when you're in the shower and try to change the pressure or when you try to turn it off at the end of your shower. I found this out the hard way, as I was dripping wet, standing in the shower. I screamed very loudly. And also wondered if I was going to die naked and in the shower. Not really the ideal death, I gotta say.

The family's reaction: oh, it's not a big deal, you just have to use a towel in between your hand and the tap. That was still scary for me. I'd almost rather be dirty, smelly and greasy-haired than risk that the towel wasn't thick enough.

In a poor country, with people who don't have a lot of money, they unfortunately don't seem to invest in something that will last. There's no chance to think ahead, unfortunately. Instead, they keep paying a bit of money over and over and buying bad quality things (such as this awful shower), rather than saving up for a good one that would last longer. Or maybe they just needed someone who knew what he was doing to install it.

Whatever happened, they really need it fixed, especially because they have Spanish language students staying there all the time who may not want to return to Guatemala, not only the Land of the Eternal Spring but also the Land of the Shocking Showers (and the showers with about 10 drips of pressure).

So no thanks to the tasering and no thanks to the electrical shocks.

2007-11-26T23:04:00.000-05:00

Phew, it was quite the weekend.

For one, I celebrated my cumple... cumpleanos, that is.

It started with a little appetizers and drinks night at my place.

Here's the groups of girls in all black. They look like a girl band, don't they?

Or is it a girl band minus a red shirt-wearing lead singer?

The next day, it was the Grey Cup final for football here in the big city(that's American-style football, not soccer). And for once, Saksatchewan was actually in the final, which is rare-- rarer than statistics say they should be in the final game.

You really have to love those Saskatchewan Roughriders. They're the total underdogs. They rarely win but still they have the best fans ever, who live and breathe their team. Kind of like the people from Xela from their Xelaju, I guess.

And the thing with the Roughrider fans? They put fruit on their heads? Don't know why. I just had to take a picture of this guy outside my office (in the centre of all the football action).

But then I took a better look at this watermelon-wearing guy. Hey, I KNEW HIM!! It was my friend Brent from university. So then I had to chat and try this whole watermelon thing on for myself.

It case you're wondering, fruit on the head is actually quite cold. It's definitely not thermal.

And then my city slicker friend wanted to try it on, too. To me, it's so obvious that she, with her jaunty little purse, is so not from the prairies. But we like all the support we can get!

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Grey Cup win to the Roughriders!

I'm Glad...

2007-11-22T21:43:00.000-05:00

... that my neighbour across the street loves her little dog so much that she dressed him in a little Christmas suit and took picture after picture of him prancing around on the snow-covered ground (yes, we got our first snow today).

I'm glad that she wanted to get just the right shot and so was snapping pictures when I passed her on my way to the store and then was still snapping when I came back, my arms filled with bread and milk.

I'm glad she gave me a laugh tonight, on a windy, icy night. I wonder if all her friends are going to receive a doggie Christmas picture from her. Maybe the card will say "We Woof you a Merry Christmas." Or maybe it'll be the cover of an invitation for Fluffy's upcoming birthday bash.

People. We're so odd. That's probably what Fluffy was thinking, too.

Inside the Box

2007-11-18T12:31:00.000-05:00

Smoking is a thing of the past inside all public buildings here in Toronto. Well, outside the building I work at, it's also a big no-no in certain outdoor areas.

Seems crazy to me that that can be allowed. Believe it or not, there are white painted lines, like little rectangular boxes, outside the building where smoking is permitted. It's almost laughable. Inside this area, there are also a whole lot of cigarette butts strewn on the ground. A friend of mine who smokes told me that building security will also approach people smoking outside the box and direct them towards the little smoking box.

They want the journalists who work there to think outside the box. But please, no smoking outside it.

Breaking up is Hard to Do

2007-11-15T22:59:00.000-05:00

Lately I've been thinking about a few relationships in my life that should end.

For one, I'm thinking it's time to dump my hairdresser. We had our good times, but she's just not adventuresome enough, she's too comfortable, sticks with the routine. Then there's my gym: yeah, it fits like an old pair of running shoes, but it's not trying anymore. It's let itself go, got rundown, it's blah, doesn't excite me anymore. Is it time for the love affair to end? Then there's Facebook. We started out all hot and heavy. We couldn't get enough of each other, had to check in with each other several times a day. But the passion's gone. It's feeling old. With that one, though, I'm not quite ready to say goodbye just yet.

And I guess that pretty much parallels the end of real relationships.
A lot of them last way too long, because most people first want a replacement already lined up before they end it. The thought of being alone (or in my case, with really long, shaggy hair, a pot belly and a saggy butt) is just too scary.

So for now I'll continue the relationships. Maybe we can work out our squabbles. Or maybe the end is inevitable. I'll try not to go through a whole box of kleenex, though, and have to lie to people about my swollen eyes, with the excuse that I have such a bad cold.

A Day to Remember

2007-11-11T08:50:00.000-05:00

This is my first year back in Canada for Remembrance Day.

For those who don't know, over the past weeks in Canada, veterans and others have been giving out poppies for a donation to the legion that people wear on their lapels.

It signifies those who've died in war from Canada. It's a way of honouring them and also reminding us that war isn't something we want to go back to.

I've worn a poppy before, but this year I don't feel like it. It's partly because at some level I feel it's glorifying war and putting anyone who's died in battle up to the status of hero. And now with Canadian troops in Afghanistan, for some people the poppy has an additional meaning.

None of my forefathers fought in a war. My grandfather was a conscientious objector . And I've always felt some level of lack of comfort at wearing a poppy (apart from the fear of being stuck in the chest with a pin). It's a symbol and it probably means different things to different people. I probably will wear one in future years, but for this year: no poppy for me. However, I am going as a journalist to a Remembrance Day ceremony today. Will I put one on for that? Good question.

If I did, it would be for those little old men with wrinkled hands and faces, no longer walking straight, proudly adding their poppies to a wreath. The numbers of them are fewer and fewer every year. They still remember like yesterday their comrades who fought and died many years ago. Some call those people heroes who liberated the world for us. But is war ever that simple? I see them as people who believed strongly in what they were doing and died in the process.

Crime, Politics and Controversy

2007-11-09T09:10:00.000-05:00

Check out this video for an interview with author Francisco Goldman on the Guatemalan election results and a juicy controversy involving Mr Mano Dura, Otto Perez Molina.

Goldman's newest book, which I'll have to read, delves into the killing of beloved bishop Juan Gerardi. The Bishop led a huge investigation of crimes during the war, talking to people in remote places about what really happened and who was responsible. It gave a voice to people who had none and resulted in a 4-volume book. This is one of the covers.

That's no ordinary angel. The "wings" are made from actual shoulder blades found in one of the exhumed graves from the civil war. It's the cover for the 4th volume, the hands and open mouth suggesting telling, after years of being shut up.

Two days after Gerardi released the results, which pointed the blame for more than 90% of the killings during the war at the army, he was brutally murdered.

It led to a spectacular trial, with a key witness being killed, if you can believe it a DOG even being held in jail as a possible suspect. There was an amazing CBC Radio piece done about all of this, but I don't think the link is up anymore.

The author Goldman connects now-defeated presidential candidate Otto Perez Molina, he of the iron fist policy, to the killing.

Thanks, Rudy, for sending me the link!

A Stormy Night and an Election

2007-11-03T23:06:00.000-04:00

While the east coast of Canadathis country braces for the after-effects of Hurricane Noel, further south Guatemala is bracing for round two of the elections. This round I'm missing out on, though.

People will go to the polling stations, mark their ballot and then have their index finger painted with indelible ink, so they can't vote twice. Most people, though, don't even want to vote once. One of the fears, especially with a run-off election, is poor voter turnout. The other main fear, of course, is violence.

Here are a couple English articles on what's going on:
A Reuters piece, summing up the violence around the campaign

And one about a couple investigative journalists who feel threatened

One tv station, GuateVision, is broadcasting live through the whole campaign, so I've been watching that

In the final days of the election, there are people who've been arrested for dropping false, negative flyers about one party or the other; the ex-PAC are threatening to block highways, as they so often do. The ex-PAC are the former civil patrollers, who worked along with the army during the war. They're still fighting for payment and prefer to pressure governments by stopping all movement in the country. And there's another group getting ready to block highways-- they're bus drivers who are upset that they've had so many cases of people entering the buses and taking all their money. So they say they won't give any bus service in some parts of the country and they want to block the roads, too. Wow, quite the tension that's building there.

GuateVision has been repeating over and over: we're not supporting one party or the other, we're just here to report.

But why the voter apathy? (Hmm, that's something I know all about.) Some voters feel both candidates and their parties are connected to corruption and feel that their vote really won't make much of a difference. Plus, all the local candidates-- mayors and other local reps-- have been decided. This only decides the president, so some people aren't that interested.

And the big story here in Canada is the storm coming. Hold on to your hats, Maritimers.

A Spooky Night

2007-10-31T22:24:00.000-04:00

I celebrated Halloween for the first time in several years. In Guatemala, I always paid a lot more attention (as did everyone else there, too) to November 1, the Day of the Dead. I pretty much ignored Halloween and certainly never had any desire to dress up.

But this year, back in Canada, that all changed. We celebrated on the weekend, the 28th, actually, but whatever. Here, it's been Halloween since last Friday, with people dressing up and having parties every night since then.

A few of us started out at my place, getting ready.

There was the blonde sponge woman-- Blonde and Self Absorbed.

Her side-kick-- simply Self Absorbed.

The Freudian Slip... get it, SLIP. It's not a dress, really!

Scary, scary... it's the sexy zombie.

And then we had the murdered cheerleader.

Who knew it was actually a current costume, since on some show there was a murdered cheerleader last season? I certainly didn't know, but was happy that some people did.

Oh, it was a scary night.

When is Enough Enough?

2007-10-22T00:15:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about all the death threats and violence swirling around the election campaign in Guatemala (the run-off vote is November 4 between the top two candidates of the initial election).

A close aid to Otto Perez Molina, the former military general and Mr Mano Dura, was killed in the past weeks-- gunned down in her car. A security guard was also killed. Perez called it a political killing, a threat to him and his campaign.

The lead strategist of the rival party, UNE, quit recently. He said he feared for the safety of himself and his family and finally packed it in. He's the guy who hooked me up with the UNE party and made it possible for me to do the interviews I did.

His party leader, Alvaro Colom, recently pointed to 75 text messages on his cell phone and says they were death threats. He blamed them on his opposition. I wonder how safe he feels, even with his circle of body guards following him everywhere he goes? I wonder how his Vice Presidential candidate feels? He's a man who worked for more than 30 years as a heart surgeon in the United States. The good doctor may be Guatemalan, but he sure isn't used to this gun-toting, shoot 'em up wild wild west society, even though he was living in Texas.

With all the threats and that culture of violence... and then the fear that undoubtedly follows-- how do people make that decision of whether they keep going or, like the political strategist, quit? Throughout history, all around the world, there are people who, despite the danger, did keep going. How much of that is a desire to be a hero, a martyr complex? Or is it instead doing what they know is right?

Would it be better in that situation to try to claim refugee status somewhere because of the death threats or is it better to stay?

Then there are those who would argue that some of these death threats and killings are not, in fact, directly related to the election campaign. Instead, they say it's part of the larger violence in the society as a whole. And they would argue that the politicians are just using these cases to further their campaigns. I don't know-- with the numbers of cases so high and certainly affecting people closely aligned to the party, I don't agree with that argument. They'd also argue that in some cases, these political victims of killings are people who have some sort of connection to drug traffickers. And Guatemala, or "Colombia north" is a country where drug traffickers yield a lot of power. That last part I can agree with. The rest of it-- not so sure.

What about Benazir Bhutto in Pakistan? What's she really thinking? Is she inside thinking she should just run on back into hiding for a few more years? Or does there come a point when you just have to face things and accept the risk that goes with it? Also, how does one who goes into exile in another country decide when it's safe to go back home? Do they ever get over that sense of fear?

What about me, as a journalist? What would I have done if I'd received a death threat? Or 75 of them on my cell phone. What would you do?