Differences

I have been home for just over a week. For the first few days here I was stumbling through life. Everything appears to have gone on just exactly the way it did before. People's lives are the same and mine is not, for obvious reasons. I am fundamentally still the same person, but I see and think about things differently. My priorities have shifted.

I am uncertain how to properly explain the shift so I've come up with a couple lists to help me interpret the change mas mejor (more better - bad grammar in both Spanish and English). 

Things I Love About Being Home
Family and Friends. It has been absolutely delightful to see my family and friends in person. Yes, Skype is nice but it's not the same as sitting next to someone and feeling their warmth. It's awesome to be able to share a meal in direct proximity with those I love.

Fridges. None of us have a fridge in Comalapa. We have coolers that we can pack ice with when we're ambitious enough to walk to and from the store. It's amazing how quickly you can get used to not having a fridge. Even so, it is pleasant to have a cold drink and food at any time, and to be able to store meat for more than 24 hours.

Dairy Products.  I'm mildly lactose intolerant, but man, do I love dairy. Cream in my coffee? Yes, please! Cheese sandwich? Yum. Cold glass of milk? Ah, that's the life. I was really surprised when I got to Guatemala and could only get powdered milk. Dairy is ubiquitous in Canada, but not in Guatemala. There are a couple guys on our construction crew that have cows that we can order milk from, but the option of 'sugar or no sugar' makes me rapidly lose my craving for it.

Grass. The grass here is so incredibly soft, I'm not sure if you've noticed. We have grass in Comalapa, but it is an invasive species. It's prickly and sharp. I didn't really notice the difference when I got there, but now that I'm home I'm wondering why I didn't. Walking barefoot here is glorious. The grass feels like silk on my feet. I love it.

Things that Confuse Me About Being Home
Traffic. Here it's organized, predictable and calm. In Guatemala, traffic is a chaotic sort of organized. Vehicles frequently pass on blind corners and drive on the wrong side of the road with only with a couple blasts of the horn to let people know what's happening. I've been sitting on buses that jump the median on a highway to pass an accident...with traffic coming directly at you. People walk on the side of highways and in the middle of streets. Here, cars stay in their lanes and people typically stick to the sidewalks. Strange.

Sign on the volunteer porch

Trash. Working with LWH every piece of trash has purpose. Aluminum cans and trash-filled plastic bottles make bricks used to build walls; glass bottles make skylights and bottle-bricks; polystyrene makes insulation and a sealant; leftover food feeds the dogs; and raw veggie and food scraps make compost. Here all my trash goes in the garbage and then goes out on the curb. It has no purpose, no use and no value. One can hope that what can be recycled is, but I don't hold my breath.

Options. There are options for everything here and lots of them. I've only been into two stores since getting home and both times I've been dumbstruck by all the choices I get to make. It is overwhelming. I was confused when I overheard someone say, "there's nothing in this store." I audibly retorted, "really?" Stores are an adventure all in their own.

When to say hello. I've gotten used to saying hello to everyone I encounter. Whether I'm in the middle of a sentence, out of breath or in a crappy mood it is the culture to greet people. Here I find myself going to say hello, and then getting embarrassed and holding my head down trying to not make eye contact again. I even ran into a guy yesterday in my confusion.

Things that I Miss About Comalapa
Fidellia. She is our in-country Mom and gave me my Spanish name of Cristina. She's a strong and charismatic woman, and I miss sitting in her store chatting. She always gives my dog some bread when we come to visit, and I can just hear her saying to Whiskey, my dog, "Pobrecita, su Mamá no está" (Poor little thing, your Mom is not here).

The day I left Comalapa

My dog. She walks everywhere with me and is my personal security system. She found me and from there on out I've been falling more deeply in-love with her. She'll be nearly a year old when I return to Comalapa, and I'm guessing about twice the size. I'm sad that I won't get to see her grow and that we won't learn things together. I've left her with someone I trust so I know she won't pickup any (or too many) bad habits in my absence. I can't wait until we see each other again. I can almost guarantee that I'll cry.

Walking . Here if I want to go anywhere it means jumping in the car (my parents live some distance from two city centers). In Comalapa if I want to go anywhere it means grabbing my pack and going for a walk. Granted, I frequently complain about all the mountain hills I have to go up and down, but I'm also one of the first to point out how pretty the landscape is. The landscape in Southern Ontario is depressingly flat and driving makes it more difficult to enjoy the natural beauty.

Spanish. I wouldn't say that my Spanish is great. In fact, it is quite atrocious. I get by on a lot of really simple phrases that communicate what I need or want. I can't have an intellectual conversation, yet. Comalapan's are really patient with me and have taught me a lot. I miss hearing Spanish and learning to speak it better.