A Real Mix

Guatemala City is a funny place, for many reasons. Although a somewhat large urban centre (Gab knows the "exact" number, but I believe it numbers several million) it is nonetheless an odd combination of big city and small town.
Big city:

• crime
• air pollution
• traffic
• noise
• museums
• government/corporate buildings
• transvestite prostitutes! (Gab can tell you about that one)

Small town:

• well, I've mentioned the tendency of strangers on the street to wish you good morning/afternoon/evening as you pass them
• especially in the downtown core, about 70% of the buildings are single-story—a surprisingly low skyline
• goats! We were walking home to the apartment and passed a flock of goats in our busy sidestreet—with no apparent, um, goatherd. Before we could speculate about the possibility of the "wild goats of Guatemala city", a young dude selling goat milk door-to-door followed them up, about a block distant. Which bring me to...
• people sell food door-to-door. They come down the street offering tamales, tortillas, frijoles, and (apparently) goat's milk.
• Chickens! Every morning we awake to the sound of roosters crowing.

I hope to augment this post with some snaps soon. Stay tuned...

A note-after-the-fact: I tried and tried to catch the goat guy with a camera, to no avail. Several times, upon hearing the clanging of bells, I rushed into the street with camera in hand, only to find it was a fruit guy or a shoe guy. And so I leave Guatemala goat-guy-pictureless...

Looking Out

We have been down and out with colds for the last little while but yesterday and today we engaged in one of our favorite passtimes: Going out for lunch.
Fortunately or unfortunately (depending on your perspective) the young man seems to be acquiring our interest in food.

Yesterday we went to a book store cafe where they serve perfect lattes with a background of light jazz. We had pesto and carrot soup.
They have a play spot for kids where they can sit among cushions and crash around while carrying wooden blocks.

They also have overpriced translations of english social science books and a good selection of translated kid things too.

We bought the classic flap book "Where is Maisy's Panda?" or "Donde esta el Osito Panda de Maisy?" As well as a spanish translation of a French-Japanese chidren's pop-up book called "lobo" or "le loup". The French-Japanese book is lovely- I buy these for my pleasure because buying a pop-up book for a one year old is a serious mistake.

Today we had a real Guatemalan meal. One of us had the spicy hen soup Kak'ik with tamales and the other had barbeque beef with Guacamole, Tomato salsa and tortillas. In the middle of our meal a five piece band with a Mariba began to play traditional tunes. The boy enjoyed looking at the four turtles he found in the restaurant's patio fountain. Oversized for their fountain pond they were crammed together in a corner attempting to stay out of the sunlight.

This converted colonial house had a front room outfitted with a full size slide, a ball pen, and a small wooden house with a door that could be opened and closed as many times as one small child could desire. The boy's fun ended when he tried to put a couple of dirt covered ball in his mouth.

Such is a life of travel with the young boy pictured above.

Word of the day: jocote marañon

Have you ever wondered where cashews come from? This meaty tart fruit holds its seed on the outside. Unique in that respect. To get the cashew out you must toast the grey seed pod and to retrieve the nut from the inside.

The fruit is good for juice but not so tasty on its own.

[ Pat's note: the best example of tart-but-not-sour that I've ever come across. We'll try to smuggle one back for David ]

Some initial impressions of poverty

It's amazing how the quality of life is comprimised in the presence of widespread poverty—across the class spectrum, the most everyday transactions are coloured by the presence of a desperately poor underclass.

Gab's discussion below about the lack of safety on public (or quasi-public) transport is one example. Another is the saturation of guns—any storefront of any import has a guard armed with a shotgun (and I'm talking middle-class supermarkets, bakeries, restaurants here). Almost every rooftop, residential and commercial, is lined with razorwire. Air pollution is terrible, but it's quite clear that most could not afford to follow "clear air" legislation. Can't really send anything substantial through the mail: anything like a package will probably get stolen. Nightlife? We had a friend over the other night who lives a few blocks away—at 7 pm he stood up to go: "I'd better leave, it won't be safe to be out soon." I am told that people generally do not go out at night to restaurants or shows: they tend to visit each other's houses instead.

We are not in a high class neighbourhood, but neither are we in a slum; this is everyday living.

Lemme wrap up with a couple of thoughts:

• In this context, the talk of world "security" these days seems horribly misguided. Guatemalan security forces of all types are absolutely everywhere, and people seem to remain insecure. It seems unlikely that more army, police, or security guards would make the situation better. So far, the critical difference that I have seen between (currently) "safe" Canada and "dangerous" Guatemala is not the number of cops on the street or at the borders, but the degree of income disparity.


• We had a chat with an accountant last night about the NIT tax system, and we told him about our 15% PST/GST tax. "15%" he said "That's good. Here we only have 1% tax—and that just goes to the municipal government."

Living with Fear

We all do to some extent—fear of accidents, making faux pas, forgetting something important, fear of the unknown. Sometimes I think Guatemalans have become quite skilled at managing fear in their lives. Newspapers both serious and the so called "yellow" mags have daily or weekly crime countdowns.



On a trip to Antigua yesterday I had three conversations with different drivers (taxi and bus) and all talked about armed assaults that they or their friends had experienced. The conclusion seemed to be you have to always observe your passangers carefully and if for some reason you don't guess right you have to give them everything without a fight. As one man put it: "We can always replace what is material". I wonder to what extent fear here or in Canada is based on what is material.

Relief Map

In 1905 Francisco Vela, an engineer, supervised the building of a curious nation-building tool: a map of Guatemala’s geographical topography. It sits today, a century later, at the end of what was once a boulevard with much pretension for grandeur—lined with imposing trees four lanes wide. The map is cordoned off from the rotunda—that now serves as an eerily quiet bus parking—by metal fences and shrubbery.

Flowers in bloom in bright oranges, purples, reds, and yellows transition from the shrubs to the beige-green painted cement map. Birds bathe themselves in the oceans depicted at the edges of the nation and two imposing turn of the century towers stand at either end as viewing points. The marble floors of the stands and the ornate cement work are now worn by dust and constant mopping.

A handful of Guatemalans pay the 3Q (40 U.S. cents) to enter this space. Some for quiet reflection but most to find a private place to make out. Loud foreign baby toddler with a penchant for bare legs and with no inhibition disrupts the activities of some couples.

Click on the image for the full-size shot. Thanks to Google image search and Geoff Schultz at www.geoffschultz.org who (unbeknownst to Geoff) has made up for the fact that we forgot to bring our camera. Thanks, Geoff!

The People as their own Tax Collectors

At the supermarket, the checkout person asked for a "NIT", and I was wondering what that was. I asked Gab's Dad, who started his explanation the same way he starts all his explanations: he takes off his glasses, puts them on the table, and says "Well, Patrick, in order to answer dat, dere's a long story". I offer an abridged version.

Apparently, Guatemalan tax collection is not very efficient, especially in the grocery business—large amounts of grocery sales went untaxed. So, in a shifty but kind of brilliant move, the Government figured out how to shift the responsibility of collecting taxes to the consumers.

Every time you buy something at the supermarket, you give them a unique ID (the aforementioned NIT) which is printed on the receipt. Let's say you buy 10 Quetzales of avacadoes. Come income tax time, you submit your receipt for the taxes you paid on the 10Q and that amount is deducted from the income tax you owe. It also tells the government that the grocer owes them taxes for that amount, and they successfully collect it.

Now, suppose you can't be bothered to keep and submit the receipt—then the 10Q are included in your income and you pay tax on it. Either way, the Government gets its tax! And here's the brilliant part: it spends nothing on tax enforcement—it shifts all the responsibility (in terms of labour and cost in lost tax revenue) to the consumer!

The result? Probably every Guatemalan has a drawer like the one shown here, stuffed with the year's grocery receipts.

A clear Human Rights violation

What a charming evening we had last night. Sam decided that he required a snack at 2:30 in the morning, then he decided that perhaps sleep was not a priority for him at that time. Anyway, he finally falls asleep at 4:30. "Thank God," I thought, "We can still get some shuteye in before dawn."



5:00 -- a volley of firecrackers goes off outside our window, lasting about a minute, followed by (I´m not making this up) an out-of-tune mariachi BRASS BAND, featuring an out-of-tune singer (the accordian player wasn't bad, though). I ask Gab: "What the HELL is THAT?" and she informs me that it's someone's birthday. They entertained us at least until 6, and we passed out until about 7:30, when Sam announced the day's arrival.

Charming, but irritating.

Word of the day: zapote

A curious fruit I just had for the first time—from the outside looks like a giant kiwi, cut it open and it looks like a papaya with a big pit, taste it and it's like a sweet, meaty avacado.

Gab tells me that it´s often candied.

Familiar as Foreign

Riffing on Gaby's thought below—there is a style of timber-frame house that is gaining popularity here, and it is called the "Canadian Style" of house design; peaked roof, made of wood. The "Canadian", I suppose, is partly in reference to our plentiful lumber—and yes, with some imagination I guess I could see how this house design could be seen by a Guatemalan as "Canadian".

It is an odd thing to see yourself (or at least one's nationality) essentialized in unexpected ways—we're so used to the American view of Canada (all mounties and eh's) that it has almost become a part of our identity. But "Canada" as a brand must signify very different things in other parts of the world, in ways of which we aren't necessarily aware.

It also highlights the aspect of travel I particularly enjoy—the ability to see yourself and your culture in ways that are not apparent when you are immersed in it.

Foreign and Familiar

Visiting Guatemala is strange for me. So much of it digs into deep set memories and yet so much of it is beyond my comprehension. The chaos of traffic and the clouds of dust both left and stirred by passing cars is not so much disturbing to me as it is comforting. Yet I struggle to understand the omnipresence of 'Western' fastfood chains, gas stations, and consumables of all types. How have these gained such popularity?

Building 

Family & faith 

Word of the Day: Champurrada

I'm trying to beef up my Spanish, which is currently as that of a strangely educated two-year-old (knows the word for "development" and "modernism", but not "sock"). Anyway, here's the first word that I've recently learned—and of course it's food.



A Champurrada is a dry cookie, not so sweet, and usually had with coffee. Functionally sort of a Guatemalan biscotti.

Tasty!

A Basket of Bunnies 

Something you don't see every day in Toronto

About an hour ago on our way for some early-morning pastries, we encountered a guy wandering the streets with a shotgun, who stopped Gab and asked her where the bank was. "Down the street, on the left" Gab told him, and off he went.

I wonder if he found it?

In Guatemala

Inspired by yarnography we begin our thoughts on travel to Guatemala with a young child.




We arrived yesterday after a very early in the morning flight and very little sleep.
After morning breakfast (beans, mosh- oat and rice warm very sweet cereal, fried plantains, and scambled eggs with onions and tomatoe) we went shopping for essentials. After a nap there was running on the rooftop and around the house- some of it unaided.



As expected, I went to change money today and was amused by the process of printing receipts in a computer that are later arranged in a neat pile to which carbon paper is added so that they can then be inserted into a machine that prints two lines on them. After these lines are printed you can sign the papers. Further checking of the submitted currency and a phonecall later, the printing/signing process is over and you proceed with your papers-carbon sheets removed for later use- to the cash line. Where further carbon paper is procured and more printing and signing follows. I could see if I was in a hurry this process might be less amusing.

---

Pat's addition: Well, I'm pleasantly surprised to be here—I guess a 30-odd degree temperature increase will do that to you. I enjoyed about 15 seconds of culture shock as I was leaving the airport & was instantly swamped by would-be porters. "Oh yeah," I thought "I forgot that this was what it was like to be a six-foot gringo in public." Well, one of the 4 porters that accompanied me ended up chasing Sam´s plastic bathtub into a 3-lane highway after it was blown away by the wind. I'm not sure what tip he was hoping for, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't worth risking his mortal soul for it.

Another revelation from my first 24 hours here: who knew that (a) mush was an actual dish and (b) that is was so tasty?