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?

I am in Love

2007-10-17T21:06:00.000-04:00

... with the guy who found my cell phone on the road and then answered when I called and arranged a time for me to pick it up, then answered two more calls from me as I changed the time and then refused the money that I wanted to give him for being such a good citizen. I'm feelin' the love.

A co-worker had decided that this would be the love of my life, the father of my children. Well, I met the guy and while I feel that cell phone saviour love for him, there will be no children.

A phone in Guatemala--once it's lost it's gone for good. Not so here in Canada, apparently. Are people more honest or just less in need of a cell phone? That's something to ponder.

Here's how the cell phone was lost: I was biking to work and the phone dropped out of my jeans pocket. Smashed right onto the road, I imagine. Good thing cell phone man was there to pick it up. It's perfectly fine. I only realized it once I got into work and automatically searched for the phone. From now on, the phone will travel in my oh-so-stylish bike basket, rather than my pocket.

What is that Smell?

2007-10-16T20:59:00.000-04:00

I got up Sunday, rushed to get ready for church, then jumped on the bus which miraculously (God was apparently in favour of me going to church) arrived at my stop within a minute. I got on the bus and smelled something odd. Then I transferred to the subway and smelled that same odd smell.

WHO was wearing that awful cheap perfume? Then I also smelled it in the next bus, too. Yes, it is quite a journey to the church, what with 3 different types of transit. And then in church I smelled it again and realized it was me. Eek! I was smelling the place up. Had I somehow been caught in the spray of someone's perfume?

And if I could smell it, then surely everyone else around me could smell it, too. Hopefully they were all very pious and fully focused on the sermon-- so much so that their noses were unable to lead them astray.

When I was walking home after the subway ride, I realized that it was my sweater that smelled. Hmmm... I hadn't worn that sweater since last winter. Was it somehow sprayed with awful perfume during summer? Had I worn it through a department store perfume counter last winter, been hit and then not washed it? I also seemed to be a bit allergic to it, because my eyes were really burning and watery.

I walked home and immediately tore the offending sweater off my body. Then I did the smell check. Where exactly was the odour from? It turns out it was concentrated in the armpit area (sorry, too much information for some of you). The awful smell was from the new deoderant I'd bought the day before.

Uh oh... I thought the tropical scent would be nice when I was staring at the many different types of deoderant. I was so wrong. That same afternoon, for a little Sunday shopping, I happily bought unscented. I'll keep the tropical deoderant for those special occasions, when I really want to repel someone.

And by the way, what's the deal with deoderant that smells like peach and raspberry and a tropical garden? Do we really want to be smelling that way anyway? And what's up with baby powder scents for adults? Why, why, why? There's no reason for a grown woman to smell like a baby. That is it for the deoderant rant.

Apathetic Me

2007-10-10T21:03:00.001-04:00

The polls just closed in the provincial election and I did not cast a ballot. Shocker!

This, after I took a bus 5 or 6 hours to get to the Canadian Embassy and vote from Guatemala during the last federal election. Usually I'm the election keener, and the annoying one who tells everyone they should exercise their right to vote.

I can't even blame it on the fact that we don't have a "ley seca". In other words-- no, I did not get so wasted drunk that I couldn't vote. Guatemala has a "ley seca" (dry law) that comes into effect the day before the election. It means there's no selling booze the day before or of the election. But nope, no o.d.-ing for me. I followed my own voluntary ley seca.

Another good excuse: I was travelling-- I went to Michigan for a freelance story I'm working on that has a Guatemala connection. Today I drove a total of probably 6
hours. But let's be honest... I was back by 4pm and had 5 hours that the polls were still open.

Also: I moved, so could I actually vote? And where? Oh, that sounds like a great excuse, doesn't it? BUT: I did receive my voter card before I moved, so knew that my polling station was at a school near my old apartment.

The real reasons: -I was tired
-when I got home it was raining and I didn't feel like walking or taking transit
-my election riding doesn't have a very exciting race
-this whole election hasn't been very exciting
-it sounds like there's no real race, if you believe the polls-- it looks like the current Liberal party will take another majority.

So basically: I just wasn't inspired at all in this election. I think part of it is that I'm not a true Ontarian. Would I ever miss an election in my home province of Saskatchewan? I doubt it. Here, it's still not totally "home," I guess.

But, while I'm not working this election, I am still the total journalist... listening to the radio, watching tv and scanning the internet all at the same time, to check for results.

One Week Ago

2007-10-04T20:55:00.000-04:00

It was an early start to my day. I headed from Guatemala City to Antigua to meet Mr Antigua Daily Photo, Rudy, for breakfast. Before getting there, I passed this on the way.

Makes you think twice about taking a chicken bus. They sure are cheap, but safety doesn't really seem to be the first thing on the drivers' minds.

Then I headed back to Guatemala City (in a chicken bus that was turned right-side up), did an interview and stopped at Pops.

Mmmmm... Pops. I love the Mango Nieve. It's not ice cream. More like a delicious, real fruit-tasting sherbet, I guess.

Then it was time for my "last supper" in Guatemala, with my friend Jovita. We headed to a place in Zona 10, the "Zona Viva." And it sure was 'viva' that night. And hot in the place we were at.

Check out all the people.

Why so busy? It was all because of these two guys on tv.

Well, really nobody in the Zona Viva places, or anywhere in Guatemala, for that matter, cared about the guy on the left. They were interested in the shorter guy, Carlos Peña. It was the finale of Latin American Idol, a showdown between Guatemala and Mexico.

It was a long show. That gave me time to ask a young member of the UNE party for his t-shirt. You see, I already have a bright orange Patriota shirt. Now I needed one from their opposition in the upcoming run-off election.

Good thing Guatemalan men usually wear an undershirt.

Then, finally the winner is announced and it's....

Hmmm... who do you think won, judging by this reaction?

The restaurant/bar across the street was craziness, too.

And so was the street. Here's the leftovers from the bang bang bang of firecrackers. As close as you get to snow in Guatemala City.

I went back to my hotel, since I was doing a phone interview with a radio station the next morning at 5:45am. But the fiesta continued well into the night, with lots of horns honking, in support of the new Guatemalan hero.

Vamos, Carlitos!

Central American Dust Buster

2007-10-01T22:42:00.000-04:00

I'm back in the T Dot, but still thinking of C.A.

There is a lot of dust in Central American houses. They're just not as sealed as North American homes, there's no front yard separating them from the road, people don't take their shoes off in the house and the dust just seems to travel right on in.

So what's a person to do? Make covers for everything you own. That'll combat the dust.

First up, we have the microwave cover.

In the same lovely pattern, there's the water jug cover.

And sorry for the bad angle on this photo, but if you look closely you can see the fridge cover, also in the checks and fruits pattern.

Fight dust, cover everything in a nasty fabric. Or not.

The Land of Contrasts

2007-09-27T00:20:00.000-04:00

Ahh Costa Rica... the country where everyone and their dog says "Pura Vida." The expression seems to be used for just about everything. A bit like "Buena onda" in Guatemala, I suppose. Or maybe like the always available fall-back, "Si, pues." If there's a lull in conversation, nothing fills the gap like "si, pues."

It's a place where many seem to want to protect and keep up their eco-tourism image. But at the same time, foreigners are buying up the whole place, purchasing 1/2 million dollar homes and expensive beachfront property. Paris Hilton and her family don't want to be left out; there's a huge Hilton Resort opening soon. There were so many billboards for all these expensive luxuries, none of them in Spanish. It's like there's a Costa Rica for the locals and a completely different Costa Rica for the foreigners.

The billboards in Spanish that I saw were often regarding the upcoming referendum for the free trade agreement with the United States. In the window of a 'soda' (a local lunch spot), a large "No al TLC." Then outside another shop, "Si al TLC." The "Si" signs increased as I got closer to the airport, where big companies have their headquarters. They're definitely in favour. And of course they would be, since they're the ones who have the most to gain. Several people asked me if I saw any difference in Guatemala since the deal came into effect. As I haven't been living there, I don't really know, but the poor are still poor and the rich are still rich. It's definitely not some miracle cure, though there may be some examples.

It's a country that's thought of by many Central Americans as the snob land of Central America, where the people are "muy creidos," sort of like what many in South America think of Argentinians. I thought they were nice, actually, the few that I did meet. No problems for me. The only problems came from something I ate-- probably too many beans from a 'soda.'

Beaches: yep, they're nice. But I'm no surfer type and I'm a crap swimmer, so what I really wanted to do is find a nice calm beach. I didn't completely succeed. I went to Samara and then the beach inside the national park Manuel Antonio. Those waves completely beat me down. And then there was one super huge wave that got all my stuff wet, when I was sitting at the far edge of the sand. So, alas, my search for what I suppose to many would be a boring beach was in the end unsuccessful.

But I did see wildlife. This guy was hanging out on the highway. Luckily I was in a vehicle.

Don't know if you can tell, this is a land crab, out of his little home.

And don't all tourists want to see monkeys?

Here'st the beach inside Manuel Antonio park. Don't be fooled, it's not so calm.

And if the sea isn't cooperating, there's always this option for people like me.

Dame un Quetzal

2007-09-21T09:00:00.000-04:00

As the Canadian dollar soars, actually reaching parity with the US dollar yesterday, I present another currency.

It's the Quetzal. Until recently, it was a coin (well, before that it was a bill). But it turns out that the coin cost more than 1 Quetzal to make because of the expensive material. So it actually cost 1.2Quetzales to make them. Hence, the return to the 1 Quetzal bill.

I wonder how many of the 1Q coins they made at a loss before they figured it out. Friends say they can't find any really recent coins, so maybe that huge mistake was never made.

I like the new bills. The funky hole on the one side, the that texture that keeps them looking newer (but which forces me to triple-check whether it's more than one bill I'm holding). And you should see the sorry state of the other bills in this country. Yikes! The problem with beaten up bills is that stores and market vendors won't take them, so you're stuck trying to pay somewhere with an ugly bill. Sometimes I've just had to go to a bank to exchange them.

So, congratulations, Canadian dollar (or is it more a case of sorry you're tanking, US dollar?). Whatever it is, keep it up until my trip is over, because it makes things cheaper for me here.

Four Chicks Minus One

2007-09-19T23:38:00.000-04:00

Felix, my Guatemalan "brother" bought four chicks, together with his friend, for 1 Quetzal each (that's around, I don't know, 13 cents each?).

Their big plan is to raise them and make money off them. Well, within two days, one was already dead. Oh, little chicks, I'm so sorry you got sold to these two kids. And in case you're wondering, it's the weird orange-y coloured one that's now in a better place.

Do Guatemalans dye their chickies? And why? Maybe Mr Orange Chicken was allergic to the chemicals in the dye. I'm not convinced their money-making scheme will work so well, since Felix seems to like watching tv, playing on the computer and eating candy more than anything. I highly doubt he'll actually take care of the remaining 3 pollitos. Poor things.

That family is the perfect example of how boys in this society are allowed to get away with anything and do pretty much no work, while the girls are making tortillas and washing the dishes from a young age.

I've now left Xela, the town that's brainwashed me with all its highlands pride. I'm now in Santiago Atitlan, one of my other fave Guate places. It's been pouring rain most of the day, though, and I seem to have left my umbrella in Xela. The umbrella orphanage must be HUGE. Almost as big as the sunglasses graveyard. Or perhaps the Guatemalan little chicks graveyard?

Spiky heels, spiky hair and jell-o

2007-09-16T15:06:00.000-04:00

September 15 is Independence Day. As all Guatemalans know, the place to be on the 15th is Xela. There's a huge parade with marching bands and a lot of patriotism-- if not for the blue and white Guatemalan flag, then for the red, white and blue flag of Xela.

In such a conservative city, it's surprising how short the skirts are of the baton twirlers. And that's a girl in high school. I wonder if protective fathers refuse to let their daughters twirl batons. Knowing latino men-- and actually men in general-- they probably should.

Then there are the high school beauty queens.

Okay, this girl is what-- 15, 16 years old? And she would have walked and danced for hours in those high heels down many streets. I can't even last 2 hours in high heels. Do they give special classes in high school here on how to survive uncomfortable shoes?

Then there are the drummers in their funny hats.

You know, band doesn't seem to be a nerdy thing to be involved in here. Too bad I didn't get a picture of the boy scouts. Those are the nerds!

Some more funny hats for you. Some of the bands are really military in their style.

And spiky hair, with lots of gel, is definitely the thing for high school boys here.

If you get bored of watching the bands, you can always buy some cotton candy

Or gum, candy, chocolate bars or cigarettes sold individually.

And there were also a bunch of Dominos pizza sellers walking around.
Then there was jell-o. What's up with the jello? Who craves jell-o when they're out at an event?

Finally, finally after all those hours of watching band after band go by, with the dancing baton twirlers, trumpet players, tubas and many many drummers... here was the one I'd been waiting to see.

It's my Guatemalan "sister", Dianita. She wasn't playing an instrument, just carrying a flag. I was proud when I heard that the flag carriers are the smartest kids in the school. That's my sister, the smarty pants.

Drive-in Hotel

2007-09-14T11:52:00.000-04:00

Here's the idea: you drive up to a hotel which probably has a logo with hearts on it. And in front it's all garage doors. You pull up, the garage door opens, you're connected to your hotel room and you pay your bill through a little pull-up window. Nobody sees you, it's all discreet. That is the "auto hotel." The hotels for cheating spouses or young lovers still living with their parents. It's incredible just how many of them exist in Guatemala.

The book I read that took me inside an auto hotel was The Long Night of White Chickens My life isn't racy enough that I've experienced one personally. Hmm... it would be an interesting little mini-documentary, though, wouldn't it?

Here's an auto hotel in Guatemala City:

Casa Nova Auto Hotel. They all have such funny sexy names. I think I should start an auto hotel photo album.

The Election in Photos

2007-09-10T10:50:00.000-04:00

Here are a few photos I've taken over the past few days here.

It's been a violent election campaign, with about 50 candidates and political activists killed. This man is running for congress. His 15-year-old daughter was tortured and killed and found in the truck of a car. He believes the killing is related to his candidacy.

Supporters of UNE (National Unity of Hope Party). It appears they've finished first in the election and are headed for a run-off

UNE Presidential candidate Alvaro Colom. He's a centre-left candidate, chain-smoking businessman who follows the Mayan religion. He came in second in the last election and doesn't want to lose this one. It's his third time running for president. In the months leading up to the election, he was way out in front in the polls. Now it looks as though he just barely got first place.

Election advertising covers the entire country. Basically any spare piece of concrete is used.

The iron fist (Mano Dura). Patriotic Party leader Otto Perez Molina is a former military general. His platform: to get tough on crime and put more military on the streets. This ad is for a mayoral candidate from his party in the city of Mixco, just outside Guatemala City.

Soldiers guarding a polling station.

Police officers guarding a polling station.

Not the Best Start to the Day

2007-09-08T10:52:00.000-04:00

I woke up at 6:30am, super tired, because I had gone out the night before with the friend I'm staying with here. I know I probably shouldn't have gone out, but I can't only work, can I? This morning the work was supposed to begin at 7:30.

The adventure began at 7:10.

So I go out to this main street right near her place to catch a taxi, because I have an interview with one of the candidates for vice president. All seems fine, we're driving, then I start thinking he's gone kind of far. I mean, I don't know the city that well, but it did seem like we were getting to the outskirts. Then the media person for the candidate (also known as his 'flak' if you're a journalist) called me because I was late and he wanted to make sure I was on my way. He asked where I was, I didn't know, he talked to the taxi driver, who it turns out was a bit lost. The flak tried to guide him over the cell phone, and we turned around and seemed to be on our way. But then he got lost again, received repeated calls from the flak, were involved in several near accidents (and I forgot to buy travel insurance before I left!!) but managed to escape death (phew). My taxista was no Formula One driver, though he liked to speed like they do.

Finally I suggested to the flak that I could change taxis, get there and it would all be good. He, at that point, said it was too late (half an hour past the interview time). So, back all the way across the city I came, back to my friend's place. And as Mr Taxista came back, his driving was even worse-- I guess because he was upset. I made the scared mom sound several time-- the audible gasping inhale.

Here I am now-- tired, annoyed (but alive and not in the hospital) and well aware that if I can get this interview in the afternoon it'll be a late night doing my story. That'll be followed by an incredibly late night for election day, waiting for the results. Not really the best day I've ever had.

The lesson: it's better to call ahead to a reliable taxi driver. Turns out my dude had only been on the job a week. I had a nice taxi driver my first day here, but then when I try to call him he always says he'll be there in an hour or something. That's no good for me. I also think he gave me a slight 'gringo price' on the taxi fare... that's the price increase that you get when you have blonde hair and your first language isn't Spanish.

Se Busca: buen taxista. I'm also looking for some sleep. They both seem difficult to find.

A Different Type of Familiar

2007-09-06T08:29:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I went to Antigua to do an interview.

While I don't hate Guatemala City like many do, there hasn't been a real feeling of connection to it. But as I was taking the chicken bus, getting closer and closer to Antigua, so many things came flooding back to me. Memories. And also this sensation of really loving this place, the lifestyle, everything.

I'm sure this trip will be an absolute rollercoaster of emotions. Oh boy.

Those Old Familiar Smells

2007-09-05T12:56:00.000-04:00

Here I am in Guatemala City.

One of the first things I noticed was the smell. I went to the bathroom in the Guatemala City airport, which is under construction on its way to becoming what the government proudly advertises as the biggest and best airport in Central America. And in the bathroom, I was reminded of whatever that cleaning product is that they seem to use all over the place here. There's a very similar smelling one used in Pollo Campero washrooms. Ahh, the memories... nearly gagging from the smell in the Pollo Campero toilet.

The other smell I noticed, later that same day walking down the Avenida Roosevelt (don't pronouce that word like the famous American family. Here, you pronouce it ROOZ-velt) is the incredibly strong pollution smell. Welcome to Guatemala City. That smell and the crazy traffic is why most tourists keep on heading down the Roosevelt straight onto the highway to Antigua. Not that Canada is immune to pollution, of course. Oh no. Toronto could advertise it as Canada's most polluted city. There's a tower higher than the CN Tower being built in Dubai, so at least that way it could still be number one at something. But the difference between this lovely black pollution and the northern variety is that here, it's caused by diesel fuel. So it's a different smell, bringing memories of the many bus journeys I took.

Feels good to be back, despite the smells. I think I'll have to go smell some tropical fruit or flowers, and there are lots of those here.

As for the hurricane: nothing ended up happening here. It slammed into Nicaragua, then weakened. Thousands in Nicaragua and Honduras had to leave their homes. But in countries like these, with simple homes perched on hillsides, a hurricane doesn't have to hit directly in order to have an impact. The perfect example: Hurricane Stan 2 years ago. So there are still worries about mudslides caused by all the rain.

And On Top Of It All...

2007-09-03T13:26:00.000-04:00

Along comes Hurricane Felix.

What This Election's All About

2007-08-31T22:41:00.001-04:00

One big reason I really wanted to go back to Guatemala-- to cover the election. When I first moved there the last time, that's the event that was happening. Now here I am, four years later: a few more wrinkles; probably a bit closer to skin cancer; perhaps more jaded; slightly hardened; certainly more experienced. But once again, I'm covering the same story. The same, but different.

Last time, I was fascinated and shocked by the fact that Rios Montt could actually be running for president. He's seen as responsible for the deaths of thousands of people from when he led the country as a dictator... though his supporters still don't believe that. He didn't win the presidency, though his party still remains powerful. And this time, he's running for congress, even though he's well into his 70s.

Fast forward 4 years and it seems the country has become more violent. Leading up to these elections, more than 40 candidates and human rights workers have been killed, as have family members of candidates. And the big issue seems to be crime. The number 2 candidate (according to the polls), is running on a platform of an 'iron fist'-- getting tough on crime. Also running is Rigoberta Menchu, former nobel peace prize winner. But she doesn't have much political experience, her party is brand new and they've already run out of money. She's also both a woman and Indigenous... unfortunately, those qualities can be seen as strikes against her in Guatemala.

That's what I'm wading into. And it is the rainy season, so I may well literally be wading into it.

I've been working full-time (actually more than full-time, since I recently worked 10 days straight) and unfortunately am not as prepared as I'd like to be, but I can't change that now. I guess most of the preparation will have to happen once I get there.

And while I may well be a bit more weathered and beaten, I'm still excited and nervous about going, just like I was 4 years ago. I realize that parts of this journey could be incredibly difficult (and I'm not even talking about the violence in the country), but maybe we all need to go through the difficult to come out in the end older and wiser and hopefully not too jaded and cynical.

The countdown is on.

Con TIGO

2007-08-27T20:57:00.000-04:00

One thing I love about Guatemala....

the cell phone service.

You don't have to pay for incoming calls, international calls are cheap cheap cheap and also there's something to be said for only having a few models to choose from for the pay-as-you-go plan. Oh, I only have 4 styles to choose from? Good. It takes away the consumer stress of deciding.

I still have my old Guatemalan cell phone. This time, when I go back, I can take it back to the company I got it from (Comcel, also known as Tigo) and then just buy a new 'chip' for it for around $7 Cdn. Hopefully there'll be a double time day soon after I arrive. Love that 'doble tiempo.' My friends and I used to text message each other, letting each other know if it was a double day. One Guatemalan friend (okay, more of an acquaintance, really) showed up at my house one night begging me for 100 Quetzales and PROMISING me he'd pay me the next day. It was a double day from his cell phone company, he said, and he really wanted to be able to buy a card. I gave him the money but of course I'm still waiting for my payment. I've given up on ever seeing that money, but I think I should ask for it when I run into him on the street there, just to see what his excuse is this time.

I'm glad that here in Canada, I just have a work cell phone, because I don't want to have to deal with paying for one here. And I hate it that with so many of them, you have to commit to, like 2 or 3 years.

And you can vote for him from your cell phone. Check this out It's the pride of Guatemala, their entry into Latin American Idol. I love it at the end, how Carlos' tio (uncle) looks so emotional.

Calm before the storm

2007-08-26T19:24:00.001-04:00

Today was one of those rare days that I actually relaxed.

I went to the gym and sweated like crazy. Then I met two friends for brunch, which turned into a marathon brunch which moved to a coffee shop and lasted for almost 5 hours in all. Wow, it was so nice.

Isn't it great when conversation can move effortlessly from what's happening in Afghanistan to work to what's your current guilty pleasure tv show to plastic surgery which then leads to awful stories about the horrible accidents we suffered as children?

This kind of lounging-about day probably won't happen again for a long time, since I leave for Guatemala in a week and a half. And before that, I'll doing a new job this week. To avoid thinking about all the work that is to come, here's one of those awful childhood accident stories...

I was maybe 7 or 8 years old (okay, maybe I was 5, maybe I was 10, I really have no idea). My Aunt and Uncle were babysitting me. All of us kids were outside playing ball. My four boy cousins, my brother, my sister and me. And the neighbours were probably there, too, making for a pretty good softball game. My brother was probably pitching, as usual. We may have had one proper base, with the other bases a sweatshirt or jacket. Cousin Doug was up to bat. I don't know if I was the catcher or 'on deck'.

The pitch came in, Doug swung and BOOM! I was shocked for a second. Then I put my hand up to touch above my eye. I was bleeding. Then I started to cry. What is it about that moment when you realize you're bleeding that makes everything so much worse?

My Aunt felt awful (and probably will again when she reads this... really, it's okay!!). She wrapped ice in a towel and put it above my eye where I'd been hit. It hurt so much. Ugh, I still remember that aching head. I'm sure I kept crying for a long time, since looking back, I probably was a bit of a crybaby. This time the crying was warranted, but to that nice babysitter of mine who worked at the library--I apologize for crying all night, just because I was upset that my parents actually went out on their own for once to have some fun. If I could give you extra money for that night I would.

But back to the baseball injury... I remember laying on my aunt and uncle's black leather couch. It squeaked everytime I moved. I finally fell asleep on that squeaking couch and woke up with a huge bruise. I'm sure my aunt was wondering what she would tell her big sister about what had happened.

Now, here I am-- fine, except that I have a little scar above my eyebrow to remind me to keep my distance when anyone is up to bat.

My Guatemala Plan

2007-08-21T08:50:00.000-04:00

Si, voy a regresar (yes, I'm going back)!

I'd been wanting to go and then the plane ticket was so cheap that I just couldn't resist. A big part of the reason I'm going in September is that the elections are happening then. So hopefully I'll be able to freelance some election stories to the places I used to sell stories to and the trip will be paid for plus I'll make some money.

I'm also going to be looking for another story or two I can do there. Any ideas for me? And I want to travel a bit. I was thinking Costa Rica. I'd like to sit on a beautiful beach. Anyone interested in a little trip? Or, anyone in Costa Rica know of a story I could do? I'd really like to do a radio signoff from another country. Send anything to my email address. That should be connected to my profile info.

Woo hoo!! I'm so excited. And I'm so curious to see what's happened to some people and places I knew there. I'm really wondering about the ex gang member I interviewed who seemed to really like me and gave me the cologne-soaked teddy bear and a card/letter filled with spelling mistakes. I so hope he's still an EX-gang member. And what happened to the people at the housing shelter near Santiago Atitlan? It's been almost 2 years since those mudslides. Are they STILL living in those awful shelters that were getting dirtier and dirtier? Or, because there's an election campaign going on, did the government move them and try to make a big splash about it?

Vamos a ver. We shall see.

Coming Soon

2007-08-16T23:34:00.000-04:00

Know what this is?

The flag of the country I'm going to next month.

A Bit of a Pest

2007-08-13T16:24:00.001-04:00

The pest-- that would be me.

There was a police gang bust a couple months ago. They arrested close to a hundred people, many with suspected ties to the Crips gang. At work, I thought I'd check YouTube, to see if gang members from here had posted any videos. Well, I didn't find any gang member videos, but I did find something else.

Check this out

So there I am, watching the Crip walk tutorial. What am I supposed to do, passively watch? Nope. I moved my desk chair out of the way and tried to do the shuffle, the V step and all the rest of them. I tried but didn't really succeed, unfortunately. I was like the majority of people who struggle along unrhythmically through their aerobics videos. Meanwhile, a co-worker just across from me was on deadline. She kept looking up and wanted me to stop. But once you start C-walking, it's a little hard to stop. So I was into it and so was the guy at the desk behind me. But she wasn't too impressed with our gangsta moves.

Fast forward two months and she keeps bringing it up when a group of us are out. The pain in the butt Crip walker, that's me.

A Whole Lotta Years

2007-08-12T09:18:00.000-04:00

It was 1967.
The Beatles came out with Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
The Vietnam War was going on. So were the protests against it.
Mini-skirts with bright-coloured tights were all the rage.
Elvis and Priscilla got married.
And on this day in 1967, so did this couple...

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad!

Part of what I was doing in Saskatchewan was helping them celebrate their 40 years together. I should be thankful, because if they hadn't tied the knot, I wouldn't be here.

My sister and I had a 'do for them at a Chinese restaurant. The funny thing is that my ex-boyfriend's family was there. We're talking about an ex-boyfriend from a long time ago. I guess that's why his mom didn't recognize me. She asked me my name. When I told her, she looked so surprised, touched my arm and proceeded to tell me, in her cute Chinese accent "You so skiiiinnny."

Really, she's wrong. I'm definitely not any thinner than I was 12 years ago when I was dating her son. But, hey, if someone's going to tell me I'm skinny, I sure won't argue! I wish I had a picture of what I was wearing that night. I think it's thanks to that dress... my sister's magic black dress.

The other occasion that happened last weekend...

This little girl turned 3!

We had a picnic in the park, where there were three rides: a mini ferris wheel, a train (which I LOVED when I was a kid-- you have to scream when you go through the dark tunnel. But it was out of order) and the merry-go-round (sorry, "carrousel" if you're the classy type).

Most kids want a big animal to ride on. A horse, perhaps. That's what the birthday girl chose.

So did her little sister, though she needed a bit of help.

But the funny thing is, their big brother was a bit nervous around those big animals, so high up. So his animal of choice:

The pink elephant. It doesn't move up and down, it's not high up. And he held on for dear life. I can relate. To this day, STILL the only ferris wheel I've ever been on is that tiny ferris wheel in Saskatoon. I'm the most boring person to go with to an amusement park.

A Flatlander Once Again

2007-08-05T09:50:00.001-04:00

I'm in Saskatchewan, what may well be the flatted place on earth.

Getting here is always exciting for me, as I'm in the airplane and can look down on all the squares and rectangles of different colour fields. The light yellow wheat, the shocking bright yellow canola, various shades of greens at crops I'm not rural enough to know what they are. There is so much wide open space, you almost wonder if anyone lives in this province.

People do live here. And my family seems to know many of those people. It's not a real trip to the Saskatoon airport unless either I or whoever is picking me up sees someone they know. This time, my sister saw a woman she knew.

From Saskatoon, we drove a little over an hour to the city she's living in. I love the scenery here-- the railroad tracks beside the highway, the fields beyond that stretching for what seems like forever. In the other direction-- the rolling valley and the river. Everywhere you look: blue sky that seems to go on forever. The license plate label is so appropriate "The Land of Living Skies."

I'm here for a few days-- to clear all the big city smog out of my lungs. The air here is absolutely incredible. "Fresh" air doesn't really exist in downtown Toronto, unfortunately. That's something that was hard to find where I was living in guatemala, too. In Toronto, they've got all these fancy measurements for air quality. I really wonder how my Xela would measure up. I probably don't even want to know how downtown Guatemala City would fare. But it would be interesting.

Prairie writers always seem to be inspired by their environment. We'll see if the place inspires me.

Coming soon: the big SK event I'm going to this weekend.

90 degrees

2007-08-01T23:46:00.000-04:00

90 degrees. That's what the temperature says on the thermometer attached to my fan. I don't really understand Fahrenheit. All I know is it's incredibly hot.

Mi Bella

2007-07-30T22:38:00.001-04:00

I just received a powerpoint presentation by email from a friend. It's called Mi Bella Guatemala... my beautiful Guatemala... complete with a picture from each of the "departamentos" (states or provinces) and of course some marimba music in the background.

There's nothing more Guatemalan than marimba music.

Guatemalans are very attached to their national instrument.

I heard some tourists refer to it as "that big xylophone thingy." That wouldn't go over so well with the marimba lovers... or even the Guatemalans who really aren't that keen on the instrument but are so patriotic they wouldn't admit that.

I don't know that there's a specific instrument that binds Canadians together. Maybe it's types of music. Usually we feel most patriotic about the music that doesn't become famous in the U.S. As soon as a band does "make it" in the States, suddenly everyone in Canada has to insult them.

When I was in university, nothing brought people together like East Coast jigging-type rock music. Great Big Sea. And Spirit of the West, with their famous song about drinking their way across England. Okay, not the deepest song ever written.

Now, for a mini newscast:

You always start out with a strong, immediate story.
Today... Toronto police say they did not act inappropriately in a post-soccer game brawl. Toronto police conducted their own investigation of the "melee" between Chileans and police. Chile wants an independent investigation. No further comment from me, in case I have to cover this at some point. I would very much like to comment. But I'd also very much like to keep getting work as a journalist.

Usually, you'd have a few more stories. If you're like a tired-of-the-news person I know (not me), you'd say there are a bunch of depressing, bad news stories that follow. I say: sorry-- the story about the thousands of planes landing safely doesn't make the newscast. Positive and newsy CAN work, though. Maybe that's another posting.

Then sometimes there's time for a "kicker". This is the story that may not get much respect in the newsroom, but it's the one everyone will talk about at home.

In other news: more parents are turning to a way of potty training their babies earlier. Much earlier. These babies are just newborns. It's called Elimination Communication. I just heard about it for the first time yesterday, from a friend who has a baby. Apparently, babies can be trained to control themselves. So they hold it, the parents give some cue, the baby knows it's time and voila... time to poo. This friend told me that's what they do in poor countries where they don't have diapers. She mentioned Africa. Does anyone know if they do it in Central America? I find it fascinating. And if this exists, why don't more people do it? What better way to keep all those diapers out of landfills? But what if some random guy on the street yells out the parents' "cue word"? Does the baby instantly go 'number 2' in his pants? That could be a good comedy sketch.

Turning to the weather now...
It is so hot in my apartment right now. The fans are on, the windows are open. Hopefully the basement neighbours won't have any more domestic disagreements right outside my open window. My fingers are swollen up like fat little sausages, my feet are so fat they're almost round-- throbbing little soccer balls at the bottoms of my legs. I'm looking far from "Bella" right now. But I'd still take this over winter and -30.

Buenas noches

Summing Up...

2007-07-23T20:23:00.000-04:00

This is a mish-mash of a lot of things here from the past few days.

First, my sister-in-law improved a lot. She went home from the hospital on Saturday and has to be off work for a week.

Now, class, here's your lesson on Clostridium Difficile, or C Diff...

It's often caused by going onto an antibiotic, which wipes out many bacteria in your body-- both the good ones and the bad. But that can allow the C Diff bacteria to thrive, in the colon or intestines. It leads to intense diarrhea and colinitis. In the elderly and people who are already sick, especially, it can be deadly. In mild cases, no treatment is required. In more serious cases, it requires medication (my sister-in-law is on TONS) or surgery.

How did my sister-in-law get it? She went for a walk one night and was bitten by a mosquito on her eye. The problem is that she's allergic to mosquito bites. I saw pictures that she had on her cell phone and her eye was basically swollen shut. She looked sort of like the loser of a heavy-weight boxing match might look. So she went to the doctor, was prescribed antibiotics to clear up the eye, then started having awful stomach pains in the following days. She had no idea that damn mosquito bite would lead to being in Intensive Care for 2 days and hospitalized for 6.

I stayed in her hospital room with her one night. Luckily, I didn't catch the bacteria. It's really contagious, spread through the feces. So I stayed away from her poo :-) and I'm fine.

I also realized, once I was there, that this was a trip that I should have bought extra medical coverage for. How screwed would I have been if I'd caught something? Yes, I know there are problems with the Canadian system, but there's something so comforting about having medical coverage and not having to worry about insurance. So anyway, people: if you're traveling to another country, buy medical coverage. You never know.

And as sick as the girl was, she was well enough to notice that my feet looked awful. She said I was really in need of a pedicure. I'm just not much of a girly-girl. So, to make her happy, and my feet happy...

One thing that weirded me out, though: there was a girl at the spot beside me in the salon who looked around 13 years old. The pedicurist asked if this was her first one. She told her she first got pedicure when she was around 9. No, no, no, no. Keep a girl a girl. Give her a bath and cut her toenails, don't take her to a salon for a pedicure.

When our patient got out of the hospital and was resting in her own bed, I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself. So when the neighbours jokingly asked if I wanted to help with their landscaping, I surprised them and said yes. My job-- digging a little trench, then placing bricks in the ground that would separate the lawn from the new flower garden. It was great fun, especially since I don't have a garden and so never get to do this type of thing. The problem, though, is that I didn't realize that when I leaned over, there was a space between the bottom of my shirt and the top of my pants. This was the unfortunate result:

The picture is two days after the burn and it still looks awful. It also kills! The aloe gel is coming in handy. On a related note: does that mean that carpenters with plumber butt get a really bad burn on the top of their butt crack? Interesting tan lines they must have.

And I had time to experience my first Harley ride. This is me BEFORE I was grabbing on to my brother for dear life, hoping I wouldn't fall off and also hoping that all the air rushing up my nose wouldn't give me a nosebleed. But, hey, we look good!

And the neices and nephew look really good. Here, the girls were on their way to a birthday party next door.

Then, on my plane ride home today, from Chicago to Toronto, I saw a lot of people with this symbol on their shirts and pants.

It was the whole Toronto FC soccer team on my flight. I talked to a couple players, but not for too long because I didn't want them to think that I was a drooling groupie, or something. While they're in the same league as David Beckham now, they're earning a tiny tiny fraction of what he makes. A recent article talked about how some of the players bicycle to the field for practice (not that that's a problem, of course!), others take public transit because they make next to nothing.

Now I'm back; exhausted, but back to work tomorrow.

A Little Change of Plans

2007-07-19T09:44:00.001-04:00

Hello from Eagan, Minnesota, just outside Minneapolis/St Paul.

This was a very unplanned trip. My sister-in-law got C Difficile-- also known as C Diff-- and wasn't doing so well. It's a bacterial infection that I knew about from having done stories about C Diff outbreaks in hospitals.

Her case sounded incredibly serious. Within a couple hours of finding out, I had my flight all booked and early the next morning I was on a plane.

She seems to have improved. They certainly aren't talking about removing her colon anymore or a life and death situation. Phew.

Sundown

2007-07-14T10:15:00.000-04:00

Here are a few pictures, taken on the way back from a visit to the Toronto Islands. So close to downtown and yet so far.

The sunset was amazing. Apparently we went back at the right time.

I've read that pollution can make a sunset look more vibrant. I'm sort of wondering if that's what's responsible here.

Now, I've also read that smog and pollution DON'T add to the brightness of a sunset-- I suppose that could explain the sort of hazy look to the photos. I don't know-- I'm no climatologist.

Oh, and here's my new boyfriend. Us and the open waters of Lake Ontario. He's always willing to take me to work and wherever else I want to go. That's a good man!

Cherry Season

2007-07-06T09:37:00.000-04:00

With the parents, I went to visit my aunt and uncle's place in prime fruit growing land.

And the race was on before it rained to pick all their cherries.

So, I had to help out. Eating a few, picking a few.

My mom picked a few, too.

But this was the real serious picker, once he figured out to keep the stems on the cherries as he picked.

I can't imagine anymore living in a place where you can leave your products at the end of your driveway to sell them, knowing people will be honest and leave money (okay, a few people were dishonest, they tell me).

They even left money inside their little jar, just in case their buyers didn't have the right change.

Aren't we cute?

Do you feel Canadian?

2007-07-01T08:16:00.000-04:00

This is my first Canada Day spent actually in the country in several years. I'll watch Canada play Chile (only on tv, unfortunately) in the Under-20 World Cup, then probably go see some fireworks with the parents.

But I have a confession to make: I don't always cheer for Canada in international sporting events. When the men's soccer team played Guatemala recently in the Gold Cup, I was sitting in my apartment, wearing my Guatemala jersey, begging those Chapines to go, go, go (vamos, vamos vamos!), and actually felt sad when Canada won. I guess in that case I feel that not that many people in Canada actually care about soccer, but in Guatemala I bet there were a lot of sad, dejected people after that match (Canada won 3-0). And, hello, after all these tries, Guatemala I feel deserves to make it into the World Cup at least once.

And Canada is such a mix of people with divided loyalties. There are so many Chilean Canadians. I'm sure many will be cheering for their homeland today. I am glad that the reason we have so many Chileans here is that Canada sponsored refugees during the Pinochet years. And we've got people from all over the world in this country. In Toronto during World Cup, you can go to cafes and bars where people are cheering for every country in the world. If Canada were to make it into the World Cup, it might be hardest to find the Canadian fans!

But many people who come here, after being promised a better life and only being let in because of their education, are the people who drive me to work in a taxi on those days when I have to start at 5:45am. Do they really feel "Canadian"? I've come across some who are bitter, some who are thinking of going back or going somewhere else, some who've resigned themselves to it and are no longer living for themselves. Their whole life is now being lived for their children. And how Canadian do their children then feel, seeing that their parents have to sacrifice absolutely everything for them?

And then there are our First Nations people. The Aboriginals, the Natives, whatever the correct term is these days. The way they live on reserves is shocking. It's a whole lot closer to how Mayans in small towns are living and this is supposedly one of the most developed countries in the world. Contaminated drinking water, unacceptable housing, high rates of suicide, alcoholism. Their Day of Action on June 29th across the country was to make the rest of the country aware and push the government to do something. I'm not sure if it did that, though, or if the road closures just led people to change their long-weekend travel plans.

Anyway, that's this country-- "the uneasy mosaic," as it was termed in the newspaper yesterday.

For you Americans: a comment was made to my father once in the States-- "You Canadians celebrate your 4th of July on a different day, don't you?" Canada, July 1st. The Canadian 4th of July.

Happy Canada Day.

A Cure For Boredom

2007-06-27T22:55:00.001-04:00

I've had a revelation, after a recent posting from that oh-so-shy commenter "Anonymous."

I'm bored, he thinks, and what I seem to want is a man and a baby.

Sperm bank, here I come! All I have to decide is whether I'd like a blonde, blue-eyed baby or a little half-Latino. An article last year in the New York Times noted that there wasn't enough sperm to meet all the demand there, so I better get in line.

And if I can't get prego, I can always adopt. Angelina made it really cool to go abroad looking for a baby. All the stars are doing it, why not me?

Okay, so I've got options to get me a baby, now on to Step 2.

Finding a Man. Many books have been written about that one. Funny, the last book a friend bought for me was back in Guatemala: La Nueva Guia para Ser Mas Cabrona... con los hombres, en las relaciones, las citas, etc. In English: The Inner Bitch-- Guide to Men, Dating, etc. But that's an aside.

In this day and age, there's more than just self-help books. There's also the world wide web, the information super highway, as they used to call it. It's a highway packed with men all looking for love. Lavalife.com, 50dates.com, meetmarket.com (or is it meetmarket.ca?), eharmony.com... the list goes on and on.

Got my baby plan, my man plan. It's a miracle. I'm now no longer bored or boring.

Phew... thanks, Anonymous, for being here for me with all your support and encouragement.

Support the Troops?

2007-06-27T08:22:00.000-04:00

There's been a big debate about these things here in Toronto...

The ribbons were on ambulances and firetrucks. In the case of the ambulances, the money for the ribbon decals came from the taxpayers. There was controversy on both sides. One side wanted them kept on the vehicles-- though they were only supposed to be up for a year and the year was coming to an end.

The other side didn't want the ribbons. At a time when "the troops" are associated solely with the war in Afghanistan, it looks more like the ribbons mean "support the war in Afghanistan," they argued. They're also an American symbol and why are Canadians taking that on?

In the end, the ribbons are staying here in Toronto. And the soldiers in Afghanistan keep dying, being brought back in boxes, to family members with tears running down their faces. They keep dying and so do the Afghani people.

But the ribbons are staying. The troops shall be supported, apparently-- at least symbolically on the backs of vehicles. As for the war in Afghanistan: that debate continues.

More Decisions

2007-06-25T09:06:00.000-04:00

The past 8 months or so have been tumultuous, to say the least. Relationship upheaval, an international move, different job, working with people again rather than in having my studio in my living room...
Here
Decisions, decisions, decisions.

I was hoping I could go for a few more months without any major decisions.

And then my British roommate here told me her company wants her back in the U.K. She'll be leaving at the end of September. Here, you have to give 2 months' notice on apartments, so it doesn't give me much time to decide what to do.

There's also that little thing about an election in September...

The decisions continue.

It was so easy being 8 years old. The biggest decisions I had to make in summer were whether I wanted a red or a purple popsicle. And if I had to decide a Slurpee flavour, I sometimes wouldn't decide and instead added a bit of everything. But we all know that the end result of that is a nasty-coloured, awful-tasting melting mess. So not deciding can sometimes result in a worse option.

I know, I know, I should feel blessed that I have all these possibilities. But right now I'm just feeling overwhelmed.

A Few Photos and a Lot of Barf Bags

2007-06-22T08:51:00.000-04:00

Remember a posting awhile back when I mentioned a co-worker's sick sac collection?

Well, here it is.

Part 1 of the barf bags.

And part 2.

But I haven't only been checking out barf bags these days. Feliz graduacion, Manolo! And look, it's his Dad, visiting from Guatemala.

The one with the tired eyes because she woke up at 5am that day is me. You know, in case you couldn't tell me apart from them any other way.

It was nice to be able to talk with someone about Guatemala. Manolo's Dad left Guatemala the day after the "earthquake," as American media outlets termed it. So I asked all about it, but he was so incredibly relaxed. No big deal. That's how my friends there were, too, when I called in a panic the day it happened. Turns out that the "earthquake" was misrepresented. It was really only a "tremor"-- not a 6.8 on the Richter scale, which explains why no one died. Phew. Funny: NPR emailed me that day asking for a report from there. I'm a bit far from the scene to do that, unfortunately.

And here's Sanaz, too. We first met in Guatemala and now look at us. Hangin' with a Guatemalan man, but in Toronto. She also lives amazingly close to me.

I think we liked the band and their Spanish music a lot more than the rest of the group we were with. For Sanaz, they were good enough to bring on the extra loud Persian finger snap.

What Is Up With These people?

2007-06-16T10:29:00.000-04:00

You're sitting on the city bus. It's hot and stuffy. Body odour combines with a high school girl's perfume and an old man's aftershave and the bag of Chinese vegetables in front of the woman yakking in Cantonese to her friend. You can hear the pounding beat of rap music from one person's headphones. And you can pick out the lyrics to a 60s song coming from the headphones of the middle-aged business man across the aisle. You wonder how bad their hearing is going to be in a couple years. Then an old man with a limp whose balance isn't as good as it used to be gets on the bus. There are no more seats left, though, so he has to stand.

You're on the streetcar. A group of high school girls wearing school uniforms are talking in 'high talk,' their voices becoming higher at the end of each sentence, with the thoughts often interrupted with the word 'like'. They move from a conversation about the career fair at school to one about lip gloss. Two rows in front of them, a young man uses red pen to correct an essay-- crossing out a word here-- adding a few words there. A woman in high-heeled shoes has her eyes closed. It's hot in here. The windows are open but not much air is getting in. Then a very pregnant woman waddles on to the streetcar. She looks around hopefully but there are no seats left. She holds on to the metal pole in front of the seats to keep her balance.

A young woman is sitting on the bus, her child in a stroller in the wide aisle in front. She pulls the cord above the window, which makes that familiar dinging noise. Her stop is up next. As the bus jerks to a stop (why can this driver not stop smoothly?), she struggles to try to pull the stroller, her sleeping baby inside, out the front doors. She tries and tries. But she can't do it on her own. She's obviously frustrated. But nobody is helping. Everyone is sitting there, zombie-like, as though they're watching a movie. Finally I get up from near the back of the bus, where I'm seated, pass rows of non-participants, to help the woman. I hold the front of her stroller, while she walks down the stairs backwards, holding the handle.

These instances are what drive me absolutely crazy about this city.

There are so many more little pictures I could paint for you. People who refuse to move down farther to the back of the bus or streetcar so that more people can get in, meaning people are left at the stop waiting for the next car or bus to pick them up. But as the bus or streetcar drives by, they see there's still lots of standing room at the back. It's just because people were too stubborn to move and think of someone else that they're left waiting.

What is the deal here? Is it Toronto? Are Torontonians rude? Or is it North America in general? Is North America now so individualistic that nobody thinks about actually helping someone else? Is it a big city thing? Do all big cities make people "me first"? Are people so busy listening to their i-pods or reading their newspapers that they don't notice what's going on around them?

Or maybe we need "ayudantes" on our transit system. "Ayudantes"-- pronounced eye-you-don-tays are basically helpers. They're used in Central America on the buses to take money, help people with their big loads, boss people into where to sit, take a baby in their arms as his or her mother gets off the bus, carry children... they do it all. And they also yell out both the next stop and stick their heads out the window to yell the destination of the bus. Loud: yes. Helpful: definitely.

But part of me thinks that people's rudeness is also a cultural thing. Most cultures (and I thought mine was among them) just know that older people always get a seat. You always give up your seat for someone who's older. The same goes for a pregnant woman or anyone using a cane or crutches.

Does the culture of being nice and respectful only exist in smaller places, the places born and raised Torontonians like to make fun of? Of course, my home province, Saskatchewan, would be one of those places. I'd like to think that there, I wouldn't come across so many instances of the stories I told above. I also think I wouldn't experience so much of it in Guatemala, either-- even without the ayudantes.

I start taking my bike to work on Monday.

Busy Bee

2007-06-10T22:33:00.000-04:00

I do more these days than just go to work, come home, read my blog, eat and sleep.

Here are a few of the other things I do.

Soccer: I'm playing on two co-ed teams. My Sunday night team just had two games in a row. Who has a double header in soccer? But at least they aren't 90 minute games. We play 6/side, so it's smaller fields and with 35 minute halves. I scored a goal tonight. I think the young kids these days would respond Woot Woot! I'm still not positive where the heck that expression came from. What does it mean? What about Woo hoo and Yay? Are they relics from the past?

My other team plays Wednesday nights and is less serious. It's always followed by a drink at a pub. But I usually drink Coke or iced tea since I'm on the early bird shift at work... the havoc that shift is playing on my life and on my system could be a very long post. Trust me, it's not fun.

Spinning: awhile back I mentioned the curious thing that is a class of sitting on stationary bikes and pretending you're on a ride on the open road. I decided I liked it and now go every Saturday morning. The best part is that it's followed by lunch on a patio with the friend I pretend cycle beside.

The Gym: well, I'm supposed to do weights twice a week. Do I actually do it? Not always.

Looks like I've turned into quite the little Sporty Spice. I also bought a bike this weekend, so that'll soon be my form of transport to get to work. That'll be after this week, though, once I'm off the early shift. No way am I heading out on a bicycle at 5:15am.

I also try to fit in seeing friends, which is complicated and seems to require way too much advance planning in a city so big. I'm a big fan of the unplanned or planned just hours in advance get together.

Can Anyone Get a Visa Here?

2007-06-07T19:27:00.001-04:00

If this woman couldn't get a Canadian visa, who can?

Don't know who it is?

It's Winnie Mandela. She was supposed to be in Toronto to be the keynote speaker at a fundraising gala. Her visa application was turned down. I've heard so many stories of people turned down for Canadian visas, but this one really takes the cake.

Is Winnie Mandela a security risk? Do we think she wants to stay here illegally? Do they think she doesn't have the money to afford the trip? It's not as though she'd be paying for any of her own expenses, anyway.

How can anyone hope to ever get a Canadian visitor's visa if even Winnie Mandela can't get one?

I wonder if she felt as upset as the O-man and I did when he was rejected for a visa?

It's a Mystery

2007-06-05T19:02:00.000-04:00

How does this furniture store near my house stay in business?

Sorry for the bad pictures, with the awful reflections from the glass. I snapped them in a bit of an embarrassed rush, as a man walking by stared at me.

Who's buying a couch with so much gold on it?

What about these large tassels?

Yet part of me likes this area even more because it has these non-cool stores selling decidedly uncool stuff. We're not all pretentious and trendy here. And apparently this stuff appeals to someone. An even uglier couch has disappeared from the window display in the past few weeks. Does that mean someone actually bought it?

One of life's little mysteries.

Too Many Teenagers Dying

2007-06-04T20:14:00.000-04:00

If a young person dies here, that seems to be the story I'm covering lately.

A boy shot in a school, kids who die after a car crash in which a car may have been chased by police... what's next?

Sometimes a Plastic Bag is Okay

2007-06-02T17:43:00.000-04:00

There's been an effort here-- and in other countries-- to try to get people to stop using so many disposable plastic shopping bags.

A recent report said that just in the province of Ontario, people use 7 million plastic bags a day. Yikes. That's disgusting. And in the United States, the estimate is that 100 billion plastic bags are disposed of every year. Something has to change, with our consumer-based, dispose-of-everything society.

And there are some changes:
There's a small town in Manitoba where they've banned the use of plastic bags altogether. San Fransisco has done it, too. Customers there will be given a choice of using a biodegradable plastic bag, paper or their own re-usable bag. Cities around the world are starting similar initiatives.

But I was glad that today I did have a plastic bag with me. I've started saving my grocery bags, then taking them with me to re-use the next time I go grocery shopping. I was in the street car today, headed to the gym, with my plastic bags inside my gym bag. The streetcar was too full so I had to stand. The girl in the seat beside me was sitting there doing the pre-barf gag thing, with her hand on top of her mouth. Uh oh. I recognized that gagging motion, from all the personal experience I've had with it on Central American buses.

A man who must have been her dad just sort of sat there helplessly. I, the plastic bag carrying queen, sprung into action. I whipped open my bag, pulled out a plastic bag and handed it to the girl. Then I told the stunned dad to open the window. Hey, if she's going to upchuck, we might as well get some fresh air blowing through. And a girl about to puke could use some air, too. In the end, there wasn't much puking that happened, and they got off a few stops later.

So, while we shouldn't be using so many plastic bags, there are some great uses for them. And I guess they'd be just as useful as a barf bag if they were made from bio-degradable plastic.

Speaking of barf bags: there's a reporter I work with who's done a lot of international reporting. And he always takes a barf bag from the airline and pins it up at his desk. He has quite the impressive collection. He's out collecting another international barf bag, so I'll try to sneak a picture for you guys.

A plastic bag does come in handy. I suppose the more environmentally friendly option would have been for her dad could to open the window and get her to barf out the side of the car. But I wouldn't want to walk on that.

A Little More Politics

2007-06-01T21:33:00.000-04:00

Because a few people seemed to get into the Guatemalan election topic, here's a little bit more on it.

For the rest of you, check out this video on You Tube. This is the craziness that is going to a Xelaju soccer game. These are the fans going nuts as their team entered the stadium in a playoff game. Now do you understand why I was a bit scared of the fireworks there? There's an eye just waiting to be blinded in that situation. But don't you love the excitement and passion? As a Xela fan will readily tell you, they're the best fans in the world.

Now, back to politics:

Anonymous, I was curiously surprised to find that you compared UNE (a centre-left party) with the right-wing FRG party when led by Alfonso Portillo. It was a government marked by corruption, with strong military ties and no willingness to right past wrongs which occurred during the war. I don't see the two as similar at all. I imagine you're talking about the funding controversy for his last campaign. I'm not sure if that really was a big wrong-doing or his competition trying to discredit him. And at least in his case, he paid back the money. Ex-president Portillo, on the other hand, runs free in Mexico, after apparently stealing hundreds of millions of dollars.

As for Rigoberta Menchu, yes, in some ways the idea of her as president would be nice. Maybe it would do more for Indigenous rights in the country and give Guatemala more presence internationally. And it would be a big shift from what the country has had for leadership for many years. But what about the reality? Does she really have the experience to be president? And I unfortunately don't think enough Guatemalans could get over their hang-ups to vote someone in-- whoever that may be-- who's both a female and Indigenous. I hope that day is coming, though.

Manolo: yes, it was an interesting choice of words to say "as a Ladino." What did you mean?

I obviously can't vote but this whole Mano Dura scares me. Firm hand. A tough stance on gangs. Is that really the way to deal with things? Lock someone up because they have a tattoo? Yes, there are major problems with violence. But I worry that sending all the accused gang members to inadequate prisons won't do anything. But it seems to be popular with the voters across Central America, who feel desperate because of so much violence. I'm more of a Mano Suavecita type myself.

Whoever wins this election, I just hope it'll give the country the kick in the ass it needs to make some long-needed changes. What change would you like to see?

Election Race Heats Up

2007-05-27T22:39:00.001-04:00

I imagine many of the rocks lining Guatemala's highways have been freshly painted. Some will be painted blue and white with the symbol of a hand with three fingers sticking up. Others will be green and white. Some red.

They're the colours and logos of political parties. Yes, the parties advertise with billboards, on radio, tv and in newspapers. But they also seem to like paint. They also paint the sides of buildings with their leader's name. The whole country is awash in election propaganda.

And when you have many political parties-- around 15-- that's a lot of painted rocks.

Last election, the international media focused on the fact that Rios Montt was running for president. This time, Rigoberta Menchu running has attracted the international attention.

If she won, it would be another Indigenous president in Latin America and also the first-ever female president in Guatemala. But she's really not expected to win. I think this race is more seen as her practice round. She could be a possibility in the next election, in 4 years.

Even before I left Guatemala, one candidate was already hard at work campaigning.

Otto Perez Molina's face was all over the place, on billboards showing a clenched fist and his slogan "Urge Mano Dura" Urgent-- Strong Hand. The strong hand refers to the ex-military leader's call for a tougher stance on crime and towards gangs. Human rights groups don't like him. He was trained at the controversial School of the Americas. The school, operated in the U.S. for Latin American military leaders has been accused of That's a military training school for Latin Americans that has been accused of training leaders of governments that use death squads and commit other serious human rights abuses. The school denies that.

The man who is shown as in the lead in the polls is centre-left candidate Alvaro Colom.

He came in second during the last election and won in many of the rural areas. But he lost in the capital city, where there's the largest concentration of people.

This campaign has already been violent. Months ago I did a story about the killings of two Indigenous activists. Already back then, there had been killings of politicians, as well. And the numbers have gone up since I've left. It's a tense, unstable time.

What's the buzz in Guatemala on the election? Is Colom really expected to win? Is it Otto Perez Molina and his Partido Patriota that's seen as his main competition?

I encourage you Guatemalans living in other countries to vote. You're probably not living with a lot of the problems that your friends and family members back home are. Who do you think will solve some of those problems? Make your voice heard.

A Vulture, But Not So Bad

2007-05-24T20:54:00.000-04:00

Today was a good day to be a journalist.

Not all days are, though. Some days, I have to admit, I almost want to cover my face and not admit I'm part of that "pack". Pack of wolves, pack of vultures, whatever you want to call us.

Yes, a plane goes down and people are killed and we want to talk to the family members of the dead. A shooting happens at a school and we all buzz over there in a swarm, wanting to talk to friends, family, the principal or anyone else. We sometimes may come across as heartless and without tact.

Well, the school shooting happened yesterday. Today, I was at the school. Me in my van with the large logo from the company I work for, parked alongside a long line of TV satellite trucks, media cars and vans. Yes, it was a bit of a media circus.

As I watched some of the tv coverage of this shooting on one channel yesterday, I was a bit disgusted. I thought: please, less sensationalism. Isn't there a way to tell this story without seeming so much like a vulture? Running after the police demanding answers as you're live on air?

So I was a bit unsure about going out there early this morning. But you know what? We "vultures" are also vital in a situation like this.

I interviewed a mother whose son was killed yesterday, gunned down inside his school. She's upset with the police, with the school and with the school board. And she's sad and in disbelief and shock and wants to talk. It's through us that she can express herself to a lot of people.

What a day.

So, hopefully tomorrow will be an okay journalism day, too.

Don't Eat That Sandwich!

2007-05-22T20:37:00.000-04:00

Guatemala made it into the Canadian papers this morning. Why? The top presidential candidate, Alvaro Colom, who was second place in the last elections, had a pre-election event. People who attended were given free sandwiches.

They probably didn't look as good as this sandwich, off Antigua Daily Photo.

Their free sandwiches were probably made from cardboard-like Bimbo brand white bread, with that odd Guatemalan ketchup on it. I had to buy American-style ketchup when I was down there. Heinz brand was really expensive, but there was Hellman's that came in this odd thick plastic baggie that was pretty good. But I digress...

So they're eating the free sandwiches and a hundred twenty people came down with stomach problems and had to go to the hospital. Turns out the sandwiches gave them food poisoning. Not a good way to win votes.

Is that why the more corrupt give away building materials and money rather than a little bit of food?

In my news:
I'm now setting my alarm for 5am for the next month. I'm the early morning reporter. As long as I can get used to waking up so early, it could actually be a good thing, since it'll mean finishing early in the day. And at least the sun comes up earlier now, so it's already at least a little bit light out when I have to wake up. Doing that shift in winter is not fun.

Also, I'm searching for passion. Where is mine? I want it back-- in my work, in my life, in everything. How many people go through life not really feeling it, not really fully living it and enjoying it? I don't want to be one of those people, though I think I've been that way for the last while.

And lastly: I thought I saw a mouse in my house. Eek! But now I'm starting to second guess myself. I set out these sticky traps and did catch a really big bug, but no mouse. Plus, I don't see any of the typical mouse evidence. Could I have been imagining it? Or was it here but it went to the apartment downstairs? Am I going insane?

Shaking hands

2007-05-15T11:27:00.000-04:00

It's really quite disgusting. I don't want to share everyone's icky germs

Maybe it's because I've participated too often in this North American/Northern European custom that I can never seem to shake a cold.

Please, bring the hug and fake kiss to Canada!

Or, what about the forearm shake that usually seems to happen between two women?

Rather than shake a hand, keep reaching farther and you each shake each other's forearm. I'm sure the forearm has a lot fewer germs than a hand. This one seems most authentically Guatemalan if it's done when you're leaving and you say it with about 10 versions of goodbye. This multiple goodbye also works well on the phone, as your cell phone seconds are ticking away:

1. Adios, (Goodbye)
2. Que le vaya bien (Hope it goes well.)
3. Que Dios vaya con usted. (God be with you. --Not only religious types seem to say this)
4. Se cuida (Take care)
5. Saludos a la familia. (Say hi to your family for me)
6. Vaya, pues... Adios (Alright, then. Goodbye)

Okay, that last one: is that really what the women are saying? "Vaya??" I was never sure. Sometimes it also gets repeated. You could stick it in between each one of the goodbyes above.

Can you think of anymore?

Thanks for reading

2007-05-12T09:40:00.000-04:00

You just never know who will comment when you have a blog.

This comment came to the posting I put up last Sunday, about the killing of a journalist in Guatemala.

Anonymous said...
Im the son of Mario Rolando Lopez Sanchez, my name is Mario G. Lopez Sanchez im a sergeant in the United States Army, i want to thank the world media for covering my father's death and insuring that these type of tragedies never happen again, my father only cared of telling people the truth and insuring the Guatemalan people know of their rights. If telling the truth is the ultimate sacrifice than i believe my father accepted it gladly i never met so many people until i went to his funeral so many people loved him and i know his death will help promote freedom of press in Guatemala. Again thank you for insuring the rights of the press and letting other people know through the power of the internet.

Thanks, Mario.

Something similar recently happened to a friend of mine, who volunteers at a homeless shelter. The response he received was incredible, to his posting about a woman there who was murdered. It's the posting Sad News.

Feliz Dia de la Madre

2007-05-10T22:57:00.000-04:00

Happy Mother's Day! Today (May 10) is Mother's Day in Guatemala, El Salvador, Mexico and much of South America. Thanks for that info, wikipedia.

I may be in Canada, and Canadian, but I still called my mom to wish her a Happy Mothers' Day today. I'll call her on Sunday (Canadian Mothers' Day), too. For some very cute photos of Guatemalan moms, go to Antigua Daily Photo.

Hmm... good idea. Here are a few pictures of my own of mothers in Guatemala.

This woman and her kids were among the people occupying a piece of land legally belonging to a Canadian mining company. They said the land was theirs traditionally and still should be.

Okay, so she may not be Guatemalan, but she was a mother in Guatemala. This is my Dutch friend Judith and her baby. They've since gone back to Holland, but are hoping to return to Guatemala.

This woman and her daughter were living in the housing shelters near Santiago Atitlan.

So Sweet

2007-05-09T09:29:00.000-04:00

Sugar.

I've heard there are 12 tablespoons worth in a can of pop. That's too much. But I do love a bit in my tea. Not 12 tablespoons, or even 12 teaspoons. I'm fine with just 1 teaspoon. And you know what? I think it tastes better in Guatemala.

Why? They have bigger grains of sugar. Is it actually any different? Sugar is also grown and produced right in Guatemala. Is it less refined than the sugar here? Why is it better?

An interesting sugar culture, which I learned from my Persian brother-in-law: Iranians stick a sugar cube in their mouth, then sip their tea. And they just leave the sugar cube there in their cheek for the whole time, with the cube slowly melting away.

By the way, I drink tea, not coffee. I wish I kept having my tea like I did in Guatemala: heating the milk up first. It is soooo much better that way. But here the stove takes so long to heat up that I don't bother. Green tea with milk and sugar really is quite delicious.

Peligro

2007-05-08T22:12:00.000-04:00

When have I felt danger in my years as a journalist?

I'm sorry if I may have already told this first story. I tried searching, but I may be total crap at using the blogger search function. So if it's a repeat, hope it's just as good the second time-- sort of like Dirty Dancing. I've seen it 16 times but still enjoy it.

Danger felt in Canada:
I was working in Saskatchewan and in the newsroom, we heard that some people suspected of shooting an RCMP officer (for you non-Canadians, that's a Mountie-- you know, the Canadian police officers that in the movies and tv shows wear the red jacket and the funny hat and always seem to ride a horse. Well, sorry to break it to you, but on the job they just look like normal cops).

So, the suspected cop killers were on the move across the prairies and it's the middle of winter-- actually, a few days before Christmas. The tv reporter and I take off in a work van in the direction that we'd heard they were headed. He's speeding down the highway, but it's icy and there's low visibility from the snow. And the speedometer is all the way to the end. My one hand is clenched tightly on the handle in the door (because I'm sure that would save my life if we rolled). I'm wondering if we're actually going to make it or if we'll become the story. We get close to where it turns out the suspects are in a hotel. The police have set up a road blockade. He keeps speeding and on the shoulder proceeds to pass a huge line-up of civilized drivers waiting for things to open up. Journalists aren't quite so civilized. That's how we get things on the air so quickly. I'm just glad I wasn't driving. And the other scary thing on the drive there, when we didn't know yet that the police had found the people, was the thought that we could be driving straight towards a couple of gun-toting cop killers. But we got the story and it was all good.

Scary times reporting in Guatemala:
One would be when I did a story about gangs and the impact on people from those neighbourhoods.
Here's an ex-gang member I interviewed, showing off his artwork:

I'd been warned that at any time of day it was dangerous to go to these 'barrios'. I think people's concern scared me a lot more than anything. Once I was there, I felt fine. And I went during the day and connected with a priest and then community leaders, who showed me around. That's the key to staying safe: be with someone from the area. There are always ways to cover a dangerous-type story yet do it safely.

The O-man also told me to NOT, under any circumstances, take a bus there. One of these local city buses....

But the woman I was going to interview at her house was taking a bus home. So I was just going to go with her. I didn't want to act all high class and snobby, insisting on a taxi, so I took the bus with her. It's a matter of risk assessment. People there take these buses every single day. It's not as though every bus gets held up. So I did it. But then the O-man saw a picture (which, sorry, I can't find now) that I had obviously taken from the window of the bus and my secret was out of the bag. Oops! He was also incredulous that I'd taken my camera out, making me a perfect target to get robbed. Oops again. But it's all risk assessment, I tell you. Everyone was going home for almuerzo (lunch). They were too hungry to think about stealing a white girl's camera.

I have so many more stories. Mostly they're stories of when people warned me so thoroughly that in the end I was probably too careful. But, yes, of course I got that sense of danger-- being in a reporters' scrum and feeling the gun of one of the president's bodyguards right against me. Not that it was pointed at me, it was just on his hip. And it's strange, as someone from a country where for the most part guns are out of sight, to know that they're right there, ready.

Really, though, I do feel that there's a much higher degree of danger for the people from Guatemala. I remember hearing that the crew that did the documentary "A Killer's Paradise" (it's a BBC documentary about the killings of women) always used a certain Guatemala City cab driver when they were shooting their piece. And apparently not long after they left, something happened to him-- was he killed or shot and injured-- I can't remember. Maybe that was just a robbery; it happens there. But there's also a chance that it was related to his link to them.

Man, I sometimes crave to be back there telling these types of stories. These next few months will be my time to figure out if I really do want to stay here or if there's somewhere else I should be.

Journalist Killed

2007-05-06T08:40:00.000-04:00

I recently wrote about an attack on a journalist. Now, a few days ago, another journalist was shot and killed. I'm attaching an article from the Committee to Protect Journalists.

GUATEMALA: Radio producer gunned down

New York, May 4, 2007—Veteran Guatemalan radio producer Mario Rolando López Sánchez was gunned down outside his home in Guatemala City yesterday. The Committee to Protect Journalists is investigating whether López’ murder is related to his professional work.

López, producer of the political debate program “Cosas y Casos de la Vida Nacional” and various social programs on national privately-owned Radio Sonora, was shot at 7 p.m. as he was walking from his car to his home in a northern neighborhood in Guatemala City, according to local press reports and CPJ interviews.

Arnulfo Agustín Guzmán, Director of Radio Sonora, told CPJ that López was shot four times in the head, back and chest. According to his wife, Blanca Castellano, nothing was stolen from his car or wallet. López was taken to the local Hospital Roosevelt where he died moments after arrival, the Guatemalan press reported.

López was one of the founders of Radio Sonora, where he had worked as a producer for 14 years, said Agustín. His program, “Cosas y Casos de la Vida Nacional,” was critical of Guatemalan politics in general, added Agustín.

According to the journalist’s colleagues and family, he had not received threats. However, Agustín told CPJ that the radio station has been repeatedly threatened over the phone. Radio Sonora’s director believes that López’ murder was not accidental as it happened on World Press Freedom Day, and on the day the country’s presidential campaign was launched.

Local authorities are investigating the murder but they do not have a motive yet, said Agustín.

“We are saddened by the death of Mario Rolando López Sánchez, and offer our condolences to his family, friends and colleagues,” said CPJ Executive Director Joel Simon. “We call on authorities to investigate his murder thoroughly and expeditiously, and to ensure the safety of all Guatemalan journalists so that they may cover the presidential campaign without fear of reprisal.”
------------------------

Saturday, 5 people were arrested in the case. It's actually nice (and surprising) to see that a quick arrest was made.

The same power structures that tried to scare people into being quiet during the war are still doing the same things. Whether it's journalists they target or women or people living in gang neighbourhoods or poor campesinos upset about the system, what they create is fear. And it helps keep power in the hands of those who don't want to give it up.

The last election when I was there, there was extra concern for safety for journalists because it was Rios Montt running for president. He's not running this time, but the tension is obviously just as high. And he is running for a position in the congress. Human rights groups want him to be tried for crimes committed during the war.

Any fears I may have had as a journalist there really pale in comparison to what those who are working across Guatemala for various local outlets must have.

The Seven Hour Visit

2007-05-03T17:24:00.002-04:00

Before I get to my posting about dangers I've experienced in journalism, here's this commercial break.

My sis and little Solmaz came for a quick visit, as they had a layover. I was a good Tia. I fed them and tried to keep them entertained, though I don't have anything even resembling toys and the most interesting thing in my place seemed to be the cds and that Spanish yellow pages. Guess I'm not the only one who's entertained by that.

Here they are:

I think this is a horrible picture of me, but I'm showing it anyway. What's up with the shape of my face? I'll blame it on the super close-up, since I was taking the picture.

Me with the wee one. We thought she'd sleep but no luck.

And.... the seven hours are up; on the subway back to the airport.

Mob mentality

2007-04-29T21:00:00.000-04:00

Think of this posting as a newspaper. First, there's the news. Then it's the food section. Lastly, travel. The best part? Your subscription is free.

NEWS:
It's a scary time for reporters in Guatemala. Not only is it an election year, which apparently always increases political-type violence; but there was also this recent incident.

Several reporters were attacked in a village in northern Guatemala. One of them was shot as they covered a story on a lynching. About a hundred people from a town had gotten together to get tough on crime, as happens there quite often. They shot and were burning alive a person they believed to be a member of the Mara 18 gang. Then the community turned on the journalists. Luckily, the one who was shot was only shot in the leg. He survived. I don't know about the suspected gang member.

Lynchings are unfortunately commonplace there. People don't trust the police, they were raised in a society in which violence is always the answer, so vigilante justice takes over. UN figures show that from 1996-2002, there were more than 400 lynchings in the country. Sorry for the old data. While things have likely improved since then, as that was immediately after the war, it still happens. And are there ever charges? Rarely.

And then there's the media connection to that story. I'm sometimes amazed at how critical some Guatemalan reporters are of their government and of the system, knowing that violence can happen if they do try to do in-depth journalism, rather than just re-write government press releases. Last fall, a radio reporter was assassinated; another was shot in the face. Several more journalists received death threats. All were reporting on various aspects of corruption. Here's an article from Reporters Without Borders.

I wish I would have talked more with small-town reporters in Guatemala, to hear more about their daily experiences and if they often fear for their safety. Some probably don't, because they just stay away from controversial stories altogether. And it's a tough call. Those are the stories we need them to be doing, because that's the stuff we need to learn about. But not many people want to risk their lives for for a story. And there, especially in the smaller places, journalists don't make much money at all. Now that I'm far away I have so many questions.

I'm also craving to go back there. But I'm restraining myself.

Most people hear about this dangerous stuff happening and want to stay as far away as they can. I, on the other hand, want to do a story about it-- reveal all the injustices that are happening. I imagine it's the same craving that keeps Guatemalan journalists going, despite the danger.

FOOD SECTION:
On another topic: I went to another Spanish church today. This one also served food afterward. Today's church had Nicaraguan-style chicharrones. Chicharrones are pork rind. Pig skin, I suppose. Sound gross, taste good. This picture makes them look more like KFC.

I'm sure they're heart-attack causing, too, but they are delicious. They remind me a bit of this Mennonite fatty food called cracklings. They're another pork-based artery clogger. Chicharrones are traditionally eaten on Sundays. I loved drenching mine in juice from a lime and eating them in a tortilla. It was really disgusting when I'd see them in the market and notice that a few pig hairs were still attached to the already fried skin. Nothing like pig hair to ruin an appetite.

The ones I ate today were different, though. They were served with yuca and a cabbage salad and were more like a chip version of a chicharron-- light and crispy. Speaking of chips... you can get chicharron-flavoured ones, too.

TRAVEL
I took a little trip late this week, because I had a few days off. I can't believe I forgot my camera! I must start taking photos in Canada.

This is where I went:

But mostly my friends and I weren't gazing at Niagara Falls. It is a shame, by the way, how they've developed around the Falls. Basically, just put up a bunch of American chain restaurants, as well as a huge casino and some stripper bars. Enjoy a beautiful piece of nature, then see the Canadian version of Las Vegas.

While our original plan was to go hiking (a little closer to nature than a casino), it was cold and rainy for my days off, so my friends and I spent most of the time touring Niagara wineries. What better way to spend a rainy day than inside testing wines? That was great. But one thing that almost gives me the gag reflex: when people are doing wine tastings the 'proper' way-- taking a bit in their mouth, then spitting it out into a bucket. It reminds me of watching people puke. Please, people. Just drink the whole tester. It's not that big.

The Sheryl Crow Solution

2007-04-25T09:35:00.000-04:00

I like Sheryl Crow's music. And I admire what she's survived: depression, alcoholism, breast cancer, a very public break-up. On top of it all, she's a babe, yet one of those rocker-chick, 'I'm too cool to think about being a babe' types.

And friends know that I absolutely love Picture, the duet she did with Kid Rock. I played that song over and over again, driving them crazy. It was weird in Guatemala, too, that everytime I was heading out on a roadtrip with Osman, that song always seemed to be on the radio. So I like Sheryl.

But her advice to people on how to save the planet?

Maybe not so much.

Her words of wisdom are to use just 1 square of toilet paper each time you have to go.

Good to keep in mind that you don't need half a roll, but 1 square? Well, Sheryl thought of that, too, suggesting that in such cases 2 or 3 squares could be used. People reading this in Central America, if you have stomach amoebas, please, by all means, feel free to use more than 3 squares. I think you'll need it.

Thanks for the advice, Sheryl. I'm going to listen to Picture now, singing along horribly off-key to both parts. I haven't heard it in a while.

News Overload

2007-04-23T21:01:00.000-04:00

I went for a hike with some non-journalist friends yesterday and I realized I sound like an idiot lately, because all I seem capable of talking about is the news.

One example: a guy tells me he's planning on studying law and that he got accepted to Harvard but really wants to go to Yale and I respond (after saying "Shut up, that's amazing!" as any educated person would) by talking about how a prominent judge died this week and how even though he was dying of lung disease he kept working until the end, even going into the courtroom with his oxygen tank dragging beside him.

Another one: something was said about religion and so I say, "Oh, did you hear that the Pope declared there's 'reason to hope' that babies who aren't baptized but die do go to Heaven?" I even made the little quotation sign with my fingers as I spoke. Ick.

What am I, my own talking news wire service?

Please, disconnect me. Yes, I do like the news. But I also want to be aware of other things going on, that don't make it into the newspaper.

I think it's time for some Tuesday night salsa dancing to cure me of that, if only for a few hours. Hopefully no one tries to surreptitiously take my picture this time.

Miss Manners International

2007-04-20T08:59:00.000-04:00

What is the correct way to use this utensil?

What about all of these?

When I went out with some friends on the weekend, we talked about manners.

Now, of course, I'm having a complex about how I eat.

I grew up never knowing that if the Queen were sitting at my table, she'd eat her food with what I consider her fork going in her mouth upside down. That's prongs down.

However, George Bush probably cuts several bites worth of food then changes hands and uses the fork in his right hand. But I should have thought of another American, since I'm not sure George Bush is an example of fine manners. Martha Stewart, maybe?

I'm left-handed so I don't do any of that utensil swapping. And I only cut one bite at a time, then eat it. But I'm definitely not picky about my index finger going straight down the utensils in the proper British style.

Gotta love the tortilla, which is essentially another utensil. It can push food onto your fork, wipe up extra sauce in your place. One thing in Guatemala that surprised me, though, was how they eat chicken. They "chupar los huesos"-- suck the bones. It seems to me they basically chew the bones, too. When they're done eating chicken, there's basically no evidence of it in their plate.

And I love how in Ethiopian restaurants, you can just pick up everything with a pancake-like thing you tear into small pieces. Get rid of all the stress of how to use a fork or a knife and just use your hands with a pancake there to keep your hands clean.

Big Stories in the Newsroom

2007-04-16T22:41:00.000-04:00

There's a certain electricity in a newsroom when something big is happening.

Last week, I went out on a story of a school bus crash. By the time I got out there, the students were all removed from the bus, so it wasn't really much of an emotional scene. Still, the deep tire tracks in the mud and the slightly smashed bus said it all. One of the kids was "fighting for his life," as the police officer put it. The next day, we found out that the boy had died. And the whole newsroom seemed a bit deflated at the news. It was as though we were the surgeon and we'd just lost our patient.

Then today, of course, there was another big story, this one not happening in Toronto.

There was yelling back and forth across the room as the numbers of dead at Virginia Tech kept changing. 20? 22? 29? 32? We monitored the news channels, people tried to find a local connection and at the same time we were all a bit stunned by it. And saddened. A national producer left to fly out to Virginia. There were other stories to do, as there always are, but this was the one everyone was really thinking about.

It's been a long time since I've been in a newsroom for something like this. I've spent 3 years working by myself out of my apartment. And it's pretty exciting-- non-journalists probably think I'm morbid and sensationalist to think that. It's not as though we journalists are cold and unfeeling. But in a situation like this, maybe that's how we deal with things. We spring into action and start working fast. The only thing that beats the urgency and rush of the newsroom is the rush of actually being out there, on scene.

Another Life

2007-04-13T15:03:00.000-04:00

Or there's always this life. This was forwarded to me by a friend.

World's Shortest Fairytale:

Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl, 'Will you marry me?' The girl said 'No' and she lived happily ever after and went shopping, drank martinis with friends, always had a clean house, never had to cook, had a closet full of shoes and handbags, stayed skinny, and was never farted on.
The End.

Mars and Venus

2007-04-11T22:39:00.000-04:00

I may soon be deleting this posting, because it was probably a mistake. Enjoy it while it's here:

I had a discussion recently with a friend. And it reminded me so much of things I'd heard before. It has to do with guys feeling oh-so-pressured because we females and our ticking clocks want to have a baby at some point before the only way it'll happen is with a whole lot of help that could make us grow an entire litter of wee ones inside of us.

I gotta say, I have little sympathy for guys being pressured. But most people have a whole lot of sympathy for them. Poor guys, they're getting so scared. Poor guys, they might not be ready. Women need to wait and wait and wait for them until they are. Puh-lease.

Do guys usually feel pressure because they're with the wrong person and that's why the idea of either getting married or having a baby is like someone tying a plastic bag over their head?
Or has the woman the guy is with not sufficiently worked her magic to make a guy believe he wants that? Is that the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard? Does a woman have to manipulate a guy into wanting that?

I told a friend from here that lots of Latino guys I know want kids. The Guatemalans I knew swarmed everytime there was a baby in sight. She was surprised because all the university-educated white boys she knows are scared and apparently I shouldn't be mentioning wanting kids in the next few years around them. So, how long does one have to wait, then, to mention the kids thing?

I'm annoyed lately that it seems we women are supposed to play it cool and just pretend we're not so super-keen on having kids so we don't scare someone off. We always have to worry about a guy feeling too much pressure. Poor little guy, who probably still plays video games, even though he's over 30. And while he may have a proper job and even own his own place, he's scared. Fine, males. Be scared. That's perfect. You can reproduce when you're 75 years old. You can act all scared and be afraid of commitment until you're bloody Hugh Hefner's age. Have fun. But just remember: you don't own the Playboy Mansion so your luck will run out sooner or later.

Once a woman is at my age, have we basically missed out on round 1, the round in which all the guys interested in that whole family life thing are knocked out? Are any guys who are left real losers with b.o. and bad breath, just waiting to sweep me off my feet?

Should I have been more interested in the guys I considered geeky back in the day? Okay, forget that one. NO! I'm happy for them, married for 10 1/2 years already, lived in the same city the whole time, with three kids. But that's not my life.

If I forgot about the idea of having kids, would my life actually be way easier, because it would be so stress-free? Should I brainwash myself into that way of thinking? That way, there really would be no timeline, no looming deadline.

Sorry, I have to go listen to some music or something. There's a tick tock sound I'm hearing and it's not going away.

Unholy Holy Week

2007-04-07T22:59:00.000-04:00

A few disturbing, not so holy happenings during Holy Week.

The first, here in Toronto.

There's a big pet show going on here, so I went to get reactions to all the pet food recalls. Fine, I interviewed people wandering around as well as companies displaying their foods.

But the food displays were in amongst a whole lot of other displays, all about pets. They included businesses trying to sell you a pet cremation, a marble headstone for your deceased pet's grave, little jeans or a soccer outfit for your pooch, even fancy nail files for filing your doggie's nails.

Kind of like this, I suppose:

Yikes! Why has having a pet in our society become such an extreme thing? I grew up with a dog and cats, but the dog was an outdoor dog and certainly never made it onto the family Christmas photo.

And my sister just told me that the largest obituary in their local paper was for a dog, not a human. Oh boy.

I'm reminded of a song by the group Los Guaraguaos . It's played at basically every protest in Guatemala. It talks about the life of poor exploited workers and how the boss has his dogs going to "school." Meanwhile, the children don't get any education and the only thing they're millionaires of is worms in their stomachs.

I can just hear my sister, though, chastising me for taking such a strong stance, since I know I sometimes use money less-than-wisely. But the over-the-top pet owners just seem like such an obvious example of disgusting excesses in the world.

And not that North America is alone with this one. The rich in Guatemala absolutely love anything that makes them look more American. I can imagine Guat City's wealthy women, walking through the new fancy mall with their kids, their uniformed slave-- I mean nanny-- and a little doggie in a Paris Hilton-style purse.

Remember this movie?

Cute and all. But I sure wouldn't use that as a slogan for online dating. Mine would have to be something along the lines of: Must Realize Dogs Are Not Human.

Oh yeah: and if I don't find a mate soon and reproduce very soon, will I become one of those people, since I won't have a person to shower affection on? Am I a crazy cat lady to be, just steps away from putting a kitty, wrapped in a blanket, into a stroller?

Enough on that.

The disturbing happening from my other home country is the news that an American who calls himself the Antichrist wanted to visit Guatemala. But the Guatemalan government isn't letting him in. Here's a story about it.

What do you think?
Is this disturbing because:
1. Some guy calls himself the Antichrist and his followers tattoo themselves with "666"?
2. Guatemala is refusing freedom of expression?
3. In doing this, Guatemala is giving a guy who appeals to a very small group of people a whole lot of publicity?

Happy Easter.

Bad Attitude for Semana Santa

2007-04-04T21:28:00.000-04:00

My life hasn't been that exciting this week, as I've still felt less-than-well.

If I followed the Oprah types and that book The Secret, I would say it's my negative attitude that's keeping me sick this long (me, negative??!). The book basically says: think healthy and you'll be healthy. Want more money? Then think about it and will it to happen. Nice idea and all, but try telling that to the more than 50% of people in Guatemala: you're poor because you're not thinking about money; you're not thinking positively. I agree it's good to focus on what you want and that you can help make it happen that way, but I have to admit I'm skeptical.

But if it is true, I think I should stay thinking negatively about my health until I try that vodka gargling trick. Gargle with vodka first, think healthy thoughts second.

Back to my negative attitude: I knew that spending Easter here in Canada would be hard. It's especially hard because I'm not near my family and I'll be working the whole time. Plus, it's supposed to snow overnight. Can you believe it? In April?

I like to think of Easter as all pastel-coloured dresses, little girls with white bonnets, coloured eggs, searching for chocolate bunnies-- not snow. But then there's the reality that is Canada, not ads from the States for chocolates. I'll have to take pictures tomorrow.

I want to direct you to this blog: Antigua Daily Photo. to see what I'm missing and to learn more about Holy Week in Guatemala. Great job, Rudy.

One thing to love about Canada, though, which I have mentioned before: returns when you go shopping.

My new example-- I bought a suit, because I've never had one and thought it was time to look a little more professional. You know, me in a suit will be one of those things that could make me a woman rather than a girl.

But that womanly suit didn't turn out so well. I even thought I'd shop at a moderately-expensive place, since cheap suits I tried on looked cheap. Well, I wore it once (to work and then out at night) and the pants started to come apart at the seams. You see, they had no stretch in them. They were basically pants that are good for standing but not sitting. The problem with sitting: you sit, your leg fat spreads out, not so good for non-stretchy, non-baggy pants. It's like they needed a special tag on them, saying no hot water wash, no tumble dry, no sitting.

By the end of the night, the pants were completely trashed. There's even a hole along one seam. After asking every single one of my friends what I should do about the problematic pants, I took them back, complaining about the bad merchandise.

And you know what? No problems. I'm exchanging it for another suit. Good customer service. It sure is nice.

Gee, I wonder if busting through a pair of suit pants is what motivated me to buy personal training sessions at the gym?

My New Yellow Book

2007-04-02T11:12:00.000-04:00

Something I didn't know the last time I lived in Toronto: there's a Spanish yellow pages. And there has been for more than 20 years.

Now here I am, sitting in front of my brand new 2007 paginas amarillas.

As I flip through, I'm wishing I could host a party so that one of the mariachi bands could get my business. And I'm looking at how many dentists there are who speak Spanish. Unfortunately, I highly doubt their prices are as low as they are in Latin America. But I wonder if they have to give lower than Canadian prices because their clientele go for holidays in the land of cheap dental work? I see that there are a lot of ways to send money back home. And a whole lot of Spanish-speaking people are travel agents.

I'm wondering how to find doctors. I still don't have a family doctor here. I go to "Doctores" and there's nothing. There is a shortage of doctors accepting new patients in this city. Is that evidence of it? Or would they be called something else? I always find the English yellow pages rather tricky, trying to think of what you call things-- they're not Doctors, for example; they're Physicians.

And I seem to remember that if you need a haircut, you don't look under "Hair," you have to go to "Beauty." Really, in the end it seems to take longer using the yellow pages sometimes, because you have to play this big guessing game first.

Oh, I just flipped through the front, non-yellow part of the book, where it's big ads for businesses and this thing really is so Latino. And amusing. There's an ad for ADT Security. The "Asesora en Seguridad" has included a large picture of herself. It's her, giving me sexy eyes and showing a lot of cleavage.

Hey, look: a few pages later is a young hottie who can provide me with legal help. He looks like he's straight out of a telenovela, in his dark suit with a pink shirt and shiny pink tie. In the telenovela, he'd mostly go out for long lunches with beautiful women and when he was in the office he'd mostly have flirty encounters with more beautiful women. I did watch too much Spanish tv, didn't I? And I'm sure it's no accident that Mr Legal Help has his left hand visible in the photo and there's no ring (you know the Latina ladies are looking for that). This yellow pages is so much more fun than the English one.

For those of you in Latin America looking for yellow page information, do you know about this webpage? No pictures there, but it can give you a lot of information, since I remember the phone book always being very outdated. In many houses, people had phone books that were several years old.

I'll let you know when the mariachi party is happening!

Pre-Easter Coughing Fit

2007-03-30T07:25:00.000-04:00

Why haven't I posted in so long?

I've been sick.

Taking some of this

Though my mom always recommended this, in water

Stir, then gargle. Not the most delicious.

I said it back when I lived in Guatemala and I'll say it again: I really do believe colds hit harder here. I guess because of the extreme weather changes. The sinuses are hit harder here, the stomach is hit harder there. Everyone hears all about amoebas when they go to Central America.

That said, though, for the most part, I was fine with my stomach. And it still seems strange here in Canada that I don't have to wash my lettuce in water with a few drops of bleach. I came to like that 'super-washing' of veggies. It made me feel safe. And it's not as though vegetables are perfectly clean here. So, I rinse them extra carefully now. One of my favourite quickie vegetable washes in Guatemala-- when I didn't have time to do the bleach wash-- I just washed the outside of them with a bit of detergent.

But back to my ailing health (am I 80 years old already? On and on about my ailments):

I even took a day off work, which means I really must have been sick. You see, I've been working pretty much full-time, but I'm still a "casual". No job security for me. That means when I take a day off, no money for me, either. If I had a contract, I probably would have taken yesterday off, too.

But the weekend is almost here. Other than the work karaoke party (which I don't plan on singing at), all I want to do is relax.

In case you're wondering, I think I'm more the karaoke back-up dancer and not so much the lead singer. And now my excuse: oh, I'm so sick. I have a cold. (cough cough cough).

Have a good weekend!

Semana Santa Survival Guide

2007-03-25T11:26:00.000-04:00

Paul, Mr. First Time Commenter heading down to Guatemala, this is for you.

I'm actually a bit sad that I won't even really be experiencing Holy Week here in Canada, as I'm working the whole time. Why, I ask, is the actual "holiday" (the day we get paid the big bucks) Easter Monday? Shouldn't it be Good Friday?

I have been getting weekends off, but was asked to work one. Not realizing which weekend it was, I said yes. Only later did I see that it was over Easter. Really, I'd prefer not to work, but alas... working I shall be.

So my Easter duty is to let those heading to Guatemala know how to survive the big holiday week. Here goes:

1. Don't go to the beach. This is what they look like that week:

Why so busy? Most Guatemalans are off work starting on the Wednesday and so that's where they go. Enjoy a beach any other time of year.

2. Be taller than 5 feet. Not hard for most of us, though I'm just squeaking in. I really love it that it's not hard to see the processions, because Guatemalans are so short. Trying to see a big, busy event in Canada? Forget it. You have to be a giant. It also helps that there's usually a row of people right on the road, then others can see from the raised sidewalk.

3. Be prepared for a lot of smoke inhalation. Not the tobacco variety; or that other variety. I'm talking Catholic insense. And a lot of it. I kind of like the smell, but it can burn the eyes, in the quantity they use. Take some eye drops, maybe?

4. Sleep? What's that? Residents stay up all night making these:

so you can forego a bit of sleep, too.

It's great to wander around Thursday night really late to see the works in progress. Then set your alarm and go out early. The really big procession starts at 6am. Don't forget the camera!

5. Remember, the processions go day and night. And they last for HOURS, as they meander through the streets, from one church to another. If you miss it going by at one point, you can find out the route and catch it later.

And each has its own beauty. Here's a night-time procession from Antigua Daily Photo.

That brings me to tip number 6.

6. Check out Rudy's site, Antigua Daily Photo.

7. Plan ahead for traveling. Remember that there are basically no public buses on Good Friday. And it's pretty hard to get in or out of Antigua on Good Friday. That said, we did do it one year when my parents visited me. But that was in a car. And I had to book bus tickets for us for Easter Sunday from Xela to Guatemala City quite a bit in advance. It's a busy time of year. There are a lot of foreigners there to check it all out and on top of that all the Guatemalans are traveling, too.

8. While Antigua gets all the press this time of year, there are processions everywhere. So check things out wherever you are.

9. Barter for whatever you buy. It's all part of the fun. If you don't speak Spanish and are obviously a tourist, they'll probably try and charge you double the price, maybe more during Semana Santa. If you want to pay extra, rock on. Do it. But I think bartering is all part of the experience.

10. Don't be throwing that money around in the middle of the street. Maybe that's stupid advice, since the middle of the street is where you buy things. But just be careful. Don't leave your hotel with hundreds and hundreds of quetzales. And put it in a secure, hard-to-get-to pocket. I'm not a fan of those money belts. To me, they're so obvious, since you have to dig through one to get your money out and thus simply advertise to the world: hello, my money is here, around my waist! I just stuck some money in one jeans pocket, some in the other one and I was good to go. Or this is a good time to wear cargo pants, with some money in several different pockets.

I was never robbed, but what better time to steal than when the crowds are big and everyone's watching the same thing? You have to have an extra awareness of your surroundings when you're in the third world. Oh, sorry, I recently learned that the new politically correct term is not third world, it's "developing world." Whatever.

11. Comfortable shoes. You will be walking all day long, on little sleep. And if you're in Antigua, it'll be on cobblestone streets. They may be pretty, but they're not comfortable to walk on.

12. Eat breakfast in Dona Luisa's or the place right along the park with the bookstore in front-- that one has a great brunch during Semana Santa. (What's it called, Rudy?)

13. When in Rome... in this case, it means eat ice cream. Guatemalans love their ice cream. So, what better way to get with la gente than to join them? Helados Pops, Sarita or just the little old guy ringing the bell on his ice cream cart, someohow fitting in between the throngs to sell his goods. Que rico!

14. And if I've now convinced some of you to go next year, remember: for Antigua, you have to book a lot of hotels months in advance. And it's not cheap. Most start taking reservations at the beginning of January. My first Semana Santa in Antigua, I did find a really dumpy hostel-type place a few days before Easter. It had doubled its price. Most places will also make you pay for three nights, due to the lack of public transit. So be prepared to stay a few days. By the end, you will have had your fill of crowds and processions... at least until the next Easter rolls around!

Blue or Grey?

2007-03-23T09:25:00.000-04:00

What colour am I these days?

Is it white with a blue tinge or a grey one? All I know is that I haven't been this white in years. Not that I was some super suntan queen when I was living in Guatemala, but there's this certain nice glow you get when you spend a lot of time in the warmth and under a sun that's much closer than the sun is in winter in Canada.

People would visit from Ireland or Canada and it would be so obvious that they were just visiting.

I was at a house party recently and found myself staring at one guy there (no, not in that way!). He was just so white. And I realized by looking at him that he must work indoors at a computer. Then I started wondering if that's how I look! So what did I do? This week I bought this product that's used as a moisturizer and is supposed to slowly darken your skin.

I'll let you know if I turn orange.

Jesus Lives-- in Toronto

2007-03-19T22:53:00.000-04:00

I went to an Anglican Church on Sunday. It's a service all in Spanish, with Latino immigrants. I was one of the few white people there. I'd spoken with the priest on the phone, because there are a few stories I'm interested in doing.

What I didn't know this is what Father Hernan looked like. I wonder if he can give you a pass straight to Heaven? That's him in the middle of the picture, in case you couldn't tell.

It was a really interesting service. There's a painted mural at the front of the church, where in many churches there'd be a cross. Here, there was a cross painted on the mural. But the picture also included a Jesus figure (was it the real Jesus or the priest?) crossing a barb-wire fence border, with pictures of a US dollar bill and a Canadian maple leaf. Several others were also crossing the border along with the Jesus figure. Jesus the migrant.

The good priest also mentioned Oscar Romero several times. By the way, March 24th is the anniversary of the Salvadoran Archbishop's death. The process continues to have him named a saint. The Toronto priest is one of those pushing for that sainthood.

Now, I don't really know the differences between Cahtolicism and Anglicanism. And I didn't realize an Anglican church would seem so much like a Catholic one. For example, I didn't know that they had those kneeling things in Anglican churches. Everyone else was using them, so I felt like I had to, too. And the whole time I wondered if everyone could tell that I had never used one before. I did the kneeling but I couldn't go through with participating in their communion, where you go to the front, get bread from the priest and then go to a woman in church robes holding a glass of wine and you have to dip the bread in. What if mine would have fallen apart and left crumbs in the goblet or something? Or what if it fell out of my hand and I had to fish around for it in the wine? Nope, couldn't bring myself to take communion with all the possible accidents. Instead, I hurt my kneels with the kneeling. Even though those things are padded, they're really not comfortable.

A really good part of the service: when it ends. Not because I really wanted to leave. Oh no, it's worth staying. After the service, in the basement, they serve pupusas, horchata, platanos fritos with crema and other delicious things to eat.

Adoption Business to End?

2007-03-17T10:23:00.000-04:00

It appears that the US is finally doing something about Guatemalan adoptions. More than 4,100 babies were adopted internationally from Guatemala last year. Several countries have banned adoptions from there for years, saying the process is questionable. There's been pressure on the US to do the same; but instead, while countries such as Canada, Holland and Germany stopped Guatemalan adoptions, the US just increased the number of babies it took in from that country.

Now the US, on the verge of signing on to the Hague Convention on Intercountry Adoptions, is issuing an advisory against adopting from Guatemala. The system is riddled with corruption. There are stories of women from poor, rural areas having six babies over six years and giving them all up for adoption; of adoption lawyers hiring women to go to rural communities and "recruit" pregnant women to adopt out their babies; illiterate women, not fully understanding what's happening, signing away their baby.

On adoption sites, Americans in the process of adopting express outrage that anyone could suggest there are problems with the Guatemalan adoption system. Sure, it may seem that the adoption is all above board, as they sit in their room in The Marriot-- sometimes called The Baby Hotel-- or inside the fancy office of their incredibly wealthy Guatemalan lawyer. The issue of Guatemalan adoptions, and the problems with them, heated up with this article last fall in The New York Times.

Part of the appeal to adopt from Guatemala is that it's amazingly fast, compared to other international adoptions. In and out, maybe around 6 months from start to finish, with just one or two quick two or three day trips to the country. I met a Canadian living in Guatemala, though, and married to a Guatemalan man. They were trying to do an in-country adoption of one of his relatives, whose mother was killed. That, on the other hand, sounded like an incredibly time-consuming and almost impossible process. Maybe it was so long because they weren't paying $30,000 to do it?

Hopefully this business-- and it is a business-- will finally be cleaned up and turned be into the service it should be.

A Confession

2007-03-15T09:36:00.000-04:00

I have a confession to make.

I know I recently ranted about how annoyed I was about all these people and their little white earbuds as they rode in public transit and my feelings that everyone here is so completely disconnected from the world and the people around them.

But then...

I started taking transit to work every single day. I thought it would take half an hour but sometimes it's closer to 45 minutes. I heard things about people's lives I really didn't want to hear. I heard the two parents who couldn't exactly talk to each other. It was always as though they were the toddler with them. "Daddy needs to wipe your nose," the mother would say. This was followed by the father wiping the kid's nose. Why didn't she just say, "Eugene, could you wipe Kid 1's nose?" Then it got worse. "Is Daddy kissable?" the very nerdy dad asked the kid. (He had to be named Eugene, it just fits). Ick. Dude, you are so NOT kissable. I can't even believe someone mated with you and you're re-populating the species. Then another new mother got on the streetcar and she and the Mommy started this long conversation about how they just LOOOOOOVE 'the Trekker'. I think they were talking about their baby carrier. On and on, talking about every baby product that exists. I'm usually a very peace-loving woman, but that day almost put me over the edge.

When we transferred to the subway, I used my best conflict-avoidance measures: I tried to not be in the same car as them. I wasn't quite successful, but at least I was on the far end of the same car and they were out of hearing range.

Why do books have to be heavy and big and my backpack is too small for all that gym stuff plus my lunch? It means I had to turn to something else to tune others out. It means...

Basically, it all convinced me that it was time. Time to do something I never thought I'd do. Call me a hypocrite, after my previous swearing-off of these little babies. I've given birth to a wee little baby, a nano.

I've learned that these little guys come with as many accessories as real babies. There's a sporty carrier for running, a leather carrier for the business types, an addition to be able to listen to the radio, different headphones. And I thought I just had to pay the initial price, download some music and I was done. Rearing a child isn't simple in this world and neither is listening to a few songs (make that 500 songs).

And as I play my Spanish protest music, while in a crowded subway car full of Bay Street business boys, brand-name wearing university and high school kids, crazy ladies who talk to themselves and parents who don't talk to each other, I'm transported away from here. And it feels good. This is the way to keep peace in the big city.

What I would be doing...

2007-03-12T07:52:00.000-04:00

were I still in Guatemala.

Covering this man.

And not just him and his visit. I also would have covered the protests surrounding that visit. Protesters covering their faces as presidential video cameras filmed them, yelling "Killer!", throwing paint at McDonald's, even burning an effigy of the US prez in a smaller city. Indigenous leaders are even going to be holding a "cleansing ceremony" as he leaves the country.

Instead, I was in Toronto, covering a much calmer rally-- all about how Canada should meet its targets to the Kyoto Protocol. Oh, how my journalistic life has changed.

Cuaresma

2007-03-10T20:44:00.000-05:00

This is my first "Cuaresma"-- Lent-- back in Canada.

In Guatemala, Lent, and then Easter, are such a big deal. In Antigua, Guatemala, for example, there are the beautiful sawdust carpets that people make for the processions which seem to go on all during Lent, getting progressively bigger and more elaborate until the really big processions during Holy Week. Here, you hear about Lent in churches but it doesn't seem to make it into the public eye. It's not a cultural thing, just a religious one.

This year, I'm for the first time marking Lent by giving something up. A lot of people, women especially, seem to give up chocolate. I could do that, but trust me, it wouldn't be a sacrifice. Did I ever tell you the story about why I gave up chocolate in Grade 8? That'll be another story for another day. Just trust me when I say I'm not one of those chocolate-crazed women who's more addicted to sweet cocoa than a heroin addict is to injections.

So what did I give up?

These:

And this:

This delicious thing, too:

And even this:

Pop. Soda. Gaseosas. Whatever you like to call them, they're still just as yummy and sugary and my favourite afternoon source of caffeine.

In Latin America, pop is a big deal. Some people actually put it in their babies' bottles, which I know is horrible. But since I'm not a baby, you don't have to gasp in shock at my awful little addiction. I have to say, I'm a believer in the healing power of Coke and Pepsi. It can settle a stomach, don't you think? And sometimes it makes a headache go away (especially if it's washing down an Advil).

There's a town I visited in Chiapas, Mexico, where gaseosas are holy. It started out it was just Coke, but now all kinds of pop seem to have the holy status.
Here's the church, in San Juan Chamula:

Inside the church, its Mayan followers practice a Catholicism mixed with Mayan sprituality. Coke is considered holy and is drunk inside the church, as is a strong alcohol called "pox" (pronounced posh). Pox was always holy to these people. Coke got that distinction more recently. The people saw that the bubbles went up. They thought of it as going towards the heavens. So by drinking it, people are getting closer to God.

There are many things I could write about that town. The drunkenness there really bothered me. It's awful to hear a man's head smack on a cement bench just outside the church as he stumbles out from practicing his religion. While I realize Coke does cause problems, I don't think the negative effects are nearly as strong as those from the 'guaro.'

I'm not praying to Cola. A lot of people seem to see it lying closer to Hell than Heaven, I'm finding. I know I'd heard negative things from social justice types about Coke. But I didn't really know the issue. Now, as I search for images, I found some sites poo-pooing Coke. Here's one.

Whether fizzy drinks are closer to Heaven or Hell, I'm not sure. But I can tell you that when I was in Calgary and the whole family was over at my parents' place and I had to endure that distinctive sound of opening a bottle of pop, then smell that delicious Pepsi smell-- I sure was tested in my pop-free wilderness. I may be away from where Lent is celebrated so openly, but I seem to be really experiencing the season.

My Celebrity Look-alikes

2007-03-08T02:17:00.001-05:00

My cool celebrity look-alike collage from MyHeritage.com. Get one for yourself.

Crazy Kids

2007-03-05T11:22:00.000-05:00

It's about time for a posting about my sister's kids, no?

I'm in Calgary visiting my parents right now and, because I was coming here, my sister and her kids booked a flight, too.

First, let's start with Zayneddin (pronounced almost the same as the name of the soccer player who became known more for his head-butting abilities than his soccer skills but with a different first vowel sound).

When they were visiting me in Toronto, an ad came on the tv. It's really not an ad targeting 4-year-olds, but Zany really wanted this product. When they said, "Call now, operators are standing by," he said, "Mom, come on! Let's call now!"

What was the product? Unfortunately, I can't seem to download the photo I'm looking for. But check out this site. If it's not this exact product, it's one very similar. What is it? A geriatric bathtub/shower. The tv ad showed grey-haired seniors getting into their bathtub, then sitting there in the bubbles. Who knew it could be so attractive for a pre-schooler. The reason, of course, is that it looks like a small hottub. Perfect for seniors, perfect for kids. Maybe they need a new ad campaign, to capitalize on this overlooked market.

Then there's his sister, Kazia. Here she is wearing her dad's glasses.

My sister and her husband love to travel. They bought the latest deal from Air Canada-- two-month flight passes. Pay a flat fee and fly all you can on certain days within Canada for two months. Little Kazia, apparently feeling as though she already knew the airport like the back of her hand after several weekends of traveling, got a bit lost in an airport. Her father found her, sitting with three airport food court employees at a table, chatting and not worried at all that she was actually lost. Later, when they came across the food court employees again, the workers called out to her: "Hi, Lisa!"

Lisa??? Well, the thing is, while many of us love the name Kazia, apparently it's not good enough for her. Ever since she read a book called "Lisa Likes to Go", she's insisted her name is Lisa. The book is part of this series, which my sister tells me is really nothing special (though her daughter would I'm sure disagree).

We also went to my parents' church yesterday and when some adults asked what her name was, it was the same response: Lisa.

These kids are into books. Really into books. And really into the names in books. Scroll down to the posting about Baby Garth to find out what I'm talking about.

And I'm really lovin' up spending time with my little Solmaz, who I've taken to calling Solmazita linda... we all need a sweet Spanish name, don't we? And three sweet kids to hang out with.

Bonita

2007-02-27T23:34:00.000-05:00

The snow was really pretty yesterday. The big, fat, slow-falling flakes straight out of a movie. They even twinkled in the light of the streetlights as I was walking home. It was a total romance movie, when it should have been Christmas Eve and the happy couple was kissing under the streetlight.

Know what else I find pretty?

This:

It's my favourite flower from Guatemala. There, they call them "Cola de Cameron" or Shrimp's Tail. I'm sure gardening experts (such as La Gringa, if you're reading) could tell us the real name for them. But they do kind of have the shape of a shrimp, don't they? Here some are in a fountain. I prefer the really bright-coloured ones. The deep red ones are my fave.

In Canada, my favourite flowers are tulips. Also the brighter, darker colours. So, boys thinking about wooing me with flowers, take note.

Thorns, then Roses

2007-02-25T16:13:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I know I'm trying to be more positive, but let's be honest: usually the negative news is slightly more interesting. Sorry, maybe I'm a bit too cynical after my time in the news biz. But here I am trying to be a balanced journalist and a looking on the bright side type, tempering my usual negativity with some sunshine. Here goes:

1. Bad: it kills me that I wasn't in Guate to cover the sink hole story

And next month George W. Bush is going to be in Guatemala, which I obviously won't be covering, plus Rigoberta Menchu has announced she'll be running for president in Guatemala in September's elections. Both a woman and Indigenous. Very interesting.

Good: Apart from the obvious good news that I didn't fall into the sinkhole and die... with my work right now, it sure is nice having a big pay cheque every two weeks. I'm doing such different stories everyday. And I've even been able to use my Spanish, calling Mexico for some stories.

2. Bad: I went salsa dancing Tuesday night. This weird too-close dancer guy asked me to dance repeatedly. I don't really say no to a guy asking me to dance and I thought he seemed harmless (and at this point in my life, harmless is nice). BUT: after dancing our final song together, another guy asked me to dance and he told me that "supposedly harmless guy's" friend was taking pictures of me as I danced. And he was taking the pictures when the friend pulled his sexy, getting too close moves. ICK! What is up with that? And where the heck are those pictures going to end up? Is everything on camera these days? Isn't that so violating?

Good: I got to go salsa dancing. And on a Tuesday night. There's a different salsa club every night of the week here. While there may be a creep, not all salsa guys are so disgusting. Maybe I should dance more often with the guy who told me the other guy was taking pictures of me. I think he really was harmless. And he's a salsa teacher, so he knows what he's doing.

3. Bad: I went to a sweaty basement gym where all they have is spinning. It's just a bunch of people on bikes pretending they're in the mountains. Is anyone living in the real world these days?

Good: I didn't need to visualize the mountains. All I needed for motivation was to stare at the female instructor's amazing legs. One day, people. One day. I will live in this artificial world if I can have legs even half that muscular. And she's had 3 kids. Now that's someone to admire.

4. Bad: Life has kinda sucked lately.

Good: Maybe it has to suck in order to get me to a better place. And I'll be all self-actualized and full of experience. Isn't that what women in their 30s are about? We're not full of emotional baggage. We're "experienced."

The Adjustment

2007-02-23T07:50:00.000-05:00

I still, after almost two months in this city, haven't written the posting about how I'm adjusting. Maybe it's partially because I feel I'm not adjusting well to being back here in Canada. And I know that a big part of that is my attitude.

For example, I went out on two stories the other day, both of which required me to stand outside for a bloody long time and talk to people. I went back to the office absolutely frozen. I actually think I got some degree of frostbite on my feet and my one hand. What are my thoughts? Why am I here?

And I've been that way about everything. I guess I have to decide if I do indeed really want to be here.

But also a big part of it is my refusing to adjust. Why? Well, that may require some of my psychologist friends, I suppose. Or not. Really, it's because I've been living in the hope that somehow the Guatemalan ex-boyfriend and I could get back together and live happily ever after. Therefore, I haven't wanted to really enjoy things here; it's been better to solely see the negative, which in winter in this country isn't hard to find.

So this tough adjustment period-- I don't know, maybe it doesn't really have to be that hard. Yes, the weather sucks and I totally can't handle the cold, even though for the most part it's been an incredibly mild winter. People tell me that being somewhere hot makes your blood thinner. I don't know if that's true. I have a weird allergic reaction on my skin. I don't want to get sucked in to the buying and must be in style lifestyle common in big cities. I'd like to have a life, but it's a way faster-paced life here and so far my life has totally been controlled by work. Is it always that way here? I liked a lot of things about being a freelancer. One of them was being in control of my own life and my own time. I like my friends here, but after 3 years away from each other, I feel that we're not actually used to seeing each other and being in contact with each other anymore. And with this weather, I'd rather hibernate in my place when I'm not working. What a completely lame-o life that is, though. Plus, I don't want to go to bars for the most part, because that means guys and possibly being hit on which I cannot handle. Oh, and I do still like the salsa dancing. But could they start a place that's really happening at about 9pm or even earlier, where they keep the volume at 70 percent?

Once I let go of all my emotional baggage, who knows-- I could actually like the place. But so far: not so much.

Also a major clue that I haven't accepted that I'm in Canada: my Location for this blog is still listed as Quetzaltenango, Guatemala. Finally I'm going to change that. Like it or not, my location is Toronto, Ontario, Canada. And on facebook.com, my status is going to change from "It's complicated" to "Single."

These are big moves, people.

Weird skin and what's up with celebs?

2007-02-21T09:25:00.000-05:00

I have these strange things on my skin, which are basically lives hives, I guess. I first saw a bunch on my ankle. But they showed up the morning after I had mussels, so I thought, who knows, maybe I'm allergic to some seafoods.

But they're back. The hives are spreading. Now they're on my arm and my hand. I'm diseased! Some guy from work said maybe they were fleas, but I know my fleas after 3 years in Central America and these are definitely not that. Then he told me maybe they were bedbugs. With my brand new bed? I doubt it.

Then a woman from work who sounded like she knew what she was talking about said it's extra-dry skin. I'm not made for this climate anymore, with its cold weather and dry air! I'm shriveling up. May my super-sized cocoa butter lotion make a difference.

On another theme: why has everything celebrity suddenly become mainstream? I feel like it used to just be middle-aged women in housecoats, too-long of fingernails, with the cigarettes that they never ashed but which miraculously never fell onto the carpet reading celeb trash. Why is it suddenly okay for everyone to be up on all this stuff? Is it actually a grand scheme to keep us away from caring about things that matter?

Whatever the reason, it's kind of embarrassing to admit that the things people in society seem to be talking about most are this:

And this:

And I have to admit, I've talked about these things, too. Please, make it go away!