Emerging from the whirlwind
Yesterday, relaxing next to my backpack while gazing out to the crashing waves off of Yucatan, Mexico, the realization hit me that this latest chapter of travel in Latin America was drawing to a close. A deep sigh, a lump in throat... for it's this region that has taught me so much about my own soul and what allows it to thrive: community and love, love and community. It's this region that helped yanked me from the prison of my mind, guarded by societal expectations, into the freedom of present moment. And wow, each moment over these last six weeks has been precious, so precious...
Post-Carpe Diem semester, which ended beginning of May, I made an unexpected Mother's Day surprise visit home to Flagstaff. Lingering enough to regroup and reconnect with family, I flew back down to San Jose, Costa Rica, where I had arranged to volunteer with a peace organization called Centro de Estudios Para la Paz. I flew through the night, found the Quaker hostel where I'd be staying, and made it in time for the Monday morning meeting. Turns out the NGO had just hired a nutritionist who was tasked with developing workshops to address the growing obesity problems of the city. When I wasn't participating in other Alternatives to Violence workshops, she and I teamed up over the next few weeks to launch the initiative. The woman in charge of the NGO, Celina Garcia, is a petite but powerful peace worker who felt as a kindred spirit. Her right-hand man, Steven, leads workshops in theater for change, was similarly transforming. And the Quaker hostel I lived from was a magical space that presented me with revolution-inspired conversations on a more than daily basis-- indigenous leaders, organic agriculturalists, authors, photographers, nuclear disarmament activists, etc.
With family-esque goodbyes, I flew off to the Dominican Republic where I reunited with my Peace Corps community. It had been a bit less than five years since I'd last seen "mi gente," and the reunion was utterly blissful. Even the whole process of stuffing myself four across the backseat of the public car once out of the airport brought back such great memories of this country so close to my heart... And walking down into the lush valley of La Yautia was even greener than I remembered it. The entire community had been waiting for hours at the school for a surprise homecoming, but I meandered in past time when women had to be back at homes making dinner. So instead, I was greeted little by little by friends as my host father and I happily sauntered down the mountain. Much of the initial conversation with my host dad, Lilo, was around the more significant changes in their life-- my eldest host sister's eloping at age 15... and then behind us came a pickup truck with her and her husband. The first of many moments that would take me a few minutes to fully digest. And so the stories unfolded-- of deaths, births, infidelity, abuse, religious conversion, severe illness, and so on. Through countless hours of conversation with Maria (host mom), I slowly began to feel the pulse of the community again. I learned how important it is for Peace Corps volunteers to never just 'disappear'. Even though it is advertised as a two-year commitment, Peace Corps is about relationships, and any relationship of meaning deserves and seeks our energy over the long-term. And as much as the goal is to empower, though we may achieve that, the reality remains that you are trusted and confided in for your unique positioning outside the internal gossip of the community.
The visit also filled me, filled me so full, with hug after hug after smile after laugh after smile... so easily our physically distant US society can slowly starve me, and I found this La Yautia space to be one of deep, deep healing. Where the focus and priority of daily life is on each other, less so than on what has to get done.
There happened to be a major death during my time there... one of the eldest women of the community knew it was her last day. She set out her white underwear, white dress, four candles, and told people to get their last look. She began to have trouble breathing so, though she requested to stay, her family whisked her out of the community and towards the city hospital. On the way down from the town, the ambulance ran out of gas. They searched for a replacement truck, which also ran out of gas. She really didn't want to leave her home that night. She died there en route to the hospital.
The next day, as per custom, all extended family came to her home to view her in the casket. Hundreds of people made the trek in to pay their respects and attend mass. An unexpected opportunity for me to see many faces I might not have seen otherwise. And again reminded of the strength of ritual and tradition that maintain community despite urban flight that slowly picks it apart.
After ten days in La Yautia, I hopped a bus north to the beach where I would spend the next days partaking in my Peace Corps friend's wedding celebration. Gorgeous. A reflection of one of the most real and intense loves between two people that I have ever been blessed to witness. The ceremony was led by another Peace Corps friend, recently graduated from Union seminary, who delivered a beautiful bi-cultural message. The day after the celebration, we piled into buses to travel out to the community in which this couple met. The feast and party that the community put on had us all speechless, humbled in awe...
I took an extra day in that community to visit some special people, then flew back to Costa Rica with another Peace Corps friend for a final adventure traveling up through Central America. We went up the Panamerican Highway from San Jose to Granada, visited an old host mother in Leon, Nicaragua, then on to Choluteca, Honduras and up to El Progreso. In El Progreso I met up with my cousin Miriam's family who was doing a medical mission at an eye clinic. I helped coach kids through fluoride treatment, and observed a cornea transplant:) and overall basked in Rader-Bower lovin'.
We then whipped down to Coban to see impressive Mayan ruins, then across to Guatemala and up to its north coast, Puerto Barrios. From there we hopped on a motorboat up to Punta Gorda, Belize, and followed the rabbit hole until we landed at an amazing jungle hideaway where a progressive German took us under his thoughtful wing for a few days. A former high-up BMW employee, Bruno felt imprisoned by the material-focused lifestyle, sold all his possessions and flew off to Central America. Twelve years later, he has a Belizian wife, two boys, and a thriving tour and lodging business. He took us through some Mayan ruins and swimming through a long cave, though what we even more appreciated from him was the way he shared his stories that gave us a deeper glimpse into Belize than we ever could have hoped for. And hooked us up with some of the best rice, beans and coconut milk-fried fish I've ever had...
We continued up through Belize and stayed on the border town there, called Corozal. A lovely, sleepy community right on the bay. Much better option that the duty-free madness of the Chetumal on the Mexican side of the border. We crossed the following day and landed for the afternoon and next night in Felipe Carrillo Puerto, which we loved... Found a sacred Mayan site where 2,500 Mayans managed to fight off the encroaching Spanish soldiers. A Mayan man spent a solid hour with us in the church explaining the history and modern day life, as 5 of his granddaughters came one by one to see the random travellers. At night, the central park brings together the whole community to stroll, eat, go to mass, or play on the little motorcars.
The next day we traveled up to Tulum, one of Yucatan's relatively less-traveled beaches. We went scuba diving in the keys, and strolled along the white sand until sundown. And the next day we found our way to cancun airport, happy to not have had to actually go to Cancun to get to the airport:) Since I had a later flight than my friend, I lingered for a few hours in Playa del Carmen where I let the blessedness of the past 6-week journey sink into my blood and bones. So many serendipitous conversations, so many new friends, so much natural beauty.
Yesterday, driving up from Phoenix to Flagstaff, I soaked in the subtle sweetness of the desert landscape and realized the wide expanse of the landscape was just what I needed to allow the gorging gratefulness to ripple out far and wide. Change has indeed become my most constant, challenging companion...
Post-Carpe Diem semester, which ended beginning of May, I made an unexpected Mother's Day surprise visit home to Flagstaff. Lingering enough to regroup and reconnect with family, I flew back down to San Jose, Costa Rica, where I had arranged to volunteer with a peace organization called Centro de Estudios Para la Paz. I flew through the night, found the Quaker hostel where I'd be staying, and made it in time for the Monday morning meeting. Turns out the NGO had just hired a nutritionist who was tasked with developing workshops to address the growing obesity problems of the city. When I wasn't participating in other Alternatives to Violence workshops, she and I teamed up over the next few weeks to launch the initiative. The woman in charge of the NGO, Celina Garcia, is a petite but powerful peace worker who felt as a kindred spirit. Her right-hand man, Steven, leads workshops in theater for change, was similarly transforming. And the Quaker hostel I lived from was a magical space that presented me with revolution-inspired conversations on a more than daily basis-- indigenous leaders, organic agriculturalists, authors, photographers, nuclear disarmament activists, etc.
With family-esque goodbyes, I flew off to the Dominican Republic where I reunited with my Peace Corps community. It had been a bit less than five years since I'd last seen "mi gente," and the reunion was utterly blissful. Even the whole process of stuffing myself four across the backseat of the public car once out of the airport brought back such great memories of this country so close to my heart... And walking down into the lush valley of La Yautia was even greener than I remembered it. The entire community had been waiting for hours at the school for a surprise homecoming, but I meandered in past time when women had to be back at homes making dinner. So instead, I was greeted little by little by friends as my host father and I happily sauntered down the mountain. Much of the initial conversation with my host dad, Lilo, was around the more significant changes in their life-- my eldest host sister's eloping at age 15... and then behind us came a pickup truck with her and her husband. The first of many moments that would take me a few minutes to fully digest. And so the stories unfolded-- of deaths, births, infidelity, abuse, religious conversion, severe illness, and so on. Through countless hours of conversation with Maria (host mom), I slowly began to feel the pulse of the community again. I learned how important it is for Peace Corps volunteers to never just 'disappear'. Even though it is advertised as a two-year commitment, Peace Corps is about relationships, and any relationship of meaning deserves and seeks our energy over the long-term. And as much as the goal is to empower, though we may achieve that, the reality remains that you are trusted and confided in for your unique positioning outside the internal gossip of the community.
The visit also filled me, filled me so full, with hug after hug after smile after laugh after smile... so easily our physically distant US society can slowly starve me, and I found this La Yautia space to be one of deep, deep healing. Where the focus and priority of daily life is on each other, less so than on what has to get done.
There happened to be a major death during my time there... one of the eldest women of the community knew it was her last day. She set out her white underwear, white dress, four candles, and told people to get their last look. She began to have trouble breathing so, though she requested to stay, her family whisked her out of the community and towards the city hospital. On the way down from the town, the ambulance ran out of gas. They searched for a replacement truck, which also ran out of gas. She really didn't want to leave her home that night. She died there en route to the hospital.
The next day, as per custom, all extended family came to her home to view her in the casket. Hundreds of people made the trek in to pay their respects and attend mass. An unexpected opportunity for me to see many faces I might not have seen otherwise. And again reminded of the strength of ritual and tradition that maintain community despite urban flight that slowly picks it apart.
After ten days in La Yautia, I hopped a bus north to the beach where I would spend the next days partaking in my Peace Corps friend's wedding celebration. Gorgeous. A reflection of one of the most real and intense loves between two people that I have ever been blessed to witness. The ceremony was led by another Peace Corps friend, recently graduated from Union seminary, who delivered a beautiful bi-cultural message. The day after the celebration, we piled into buses to travel out to the community in which this couple met. The feast and party that the community put on had us all speechless, humbled in awe...
I took an extra day in that community to visit some special people, then flew back to Costa Rica with another Peace Corps friend for a final adventure traveling up through Central America. We went up the Panamerican Highway from San Jose to Granada, visited an old host mother in Leon, Nicaragua, then on to Choluteca, Honduras and up to El Progreso. In El Progreso I met up with my cousin Miriam's family who was doing a medical mission at an eye clinic. I helped coach kids through fluoride treatment, and observed a cornea transplant:) and overall basked in Rader-Bower lovin'.
We then whipped down to Coban to see impressive Mayan ruins, then across to Guatemala and up to its north coast, Puerto Barrios. From there we hopped on a motorboat up to Punta Gorda, Belize, and followed the rabbit hole until we landed at an amazing jungle hideaway where a progressive German took us under his thoughtful wing for a few days. A former high-up BMW employee, Bruno felt imprisoned by the material-focused lifestyle, sold all his possessions and flew off to Central America. Twelve years later, he has a Belizian wife, two boys, and a thriving tour and lodging business. He took us through some Mayan ruins and swimming through a long cave, though what we even more appreciated from him was the way he shared his stories that gave us a deeper glimpse into Belize than we ever could have hoped for. And hooked us up with some of the best rice, beans and coconut milk-fried fish I've ever had...
We continued up through Belize and stayed on the border town there, called Corozal. A lovely, sleepy community right on the bay. Much better option that the duty-free madness of the Chetumal on the Mexican side of the border. We crossed the following day and landed for the afternoon and next night in Felipe Carrillo Puerto, which we loved... Found a sacred Mayan site where 2,500 Mayans managed to fight off the encroaching Spanish soldiers. A Mayan man spent a solid hour with us in the church explaining the history and modern day life, as 5 of his granddaughters came one by one to see the random travellers. At night, the central park brings together the whole community to stroll, eat, go to mass, or play on the little motorcars.
The next day we traveled up to Tulum, one of Yucatan's relatively less-traveled beaches. We went scuba diving in the keys, and strolled along the white sand until sundown. And the next day we found our way to cancun airport, happy to not have had to actually go to Cancun to get to the airport:) Since I had a later flight than my friend, I lingered for a few hours in Playa del Carmen where I let the blessedness of the past 6-week journey sink into my blood and bones. So many serendipitous conversations, so many new friends, so much natural beauty.
Yesterday, driving up from Phoenix to Flagstaff, I soaked in the subtle sweetness of the desert landscape and realized the wide expanse of the landscape was just what I needed to allow the gorging gratefulness to ripple out far and wide. Change has indeed become my most constant, challenging companion...
posted by Amanda Joy at 3:41 PM
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