This weekend...

... I became a fan of The Hunger Games. I started the first book on a bus ride to Bristol and I finished the next day.  I was reading around other people who kept asking if it was really that good. If you're only into literature or complicated characters and plots, then maybe The Hunger Games isn't for you. But I love good adventure fiction written for kids. It's simple and powerful. Oooh... I just watched the movie trailer and got chills.

Speaking of adventures for kids, my friend Megan and I went to see We Bought A Zoo. I hadn't been to a light hearted PG movie in a long time. (They say "bad words" in PG movies these days! Or did I just not hear them when I was eight?) In short, Matt Damon's character buys a zoo and lives on the property with his two kids. There are lions and tigers and a big ole grizzly bear. I may have cried a little bit. Did you know the movie's based on a true story and the actual zoo is in England?  Stay tuned. I'll most definitely be taking a day trip this spring.

Happy adventuring,
mb

Linking with love: Hunger Games, We Bought A Zoo

Notes from India

A message from my friend travelling in India:

So we hear about this rat temple, where rats are the deity and are celebrated and fed and let to just run around. Awesome, right?! It was the worst thing i've ever done. there were just rats everywhere, crawling across the floor, eating food, crapping everywhere, dying and rotting in corners... it was terrible. why would something like this exist?

Made me laugh and think about joys of travel.

Stage 2 rage

You might like to check out this article about Americans' "residential mobility" driving their desire for familiar, national brands.


On a related note, I've been thinking about the stages people go through after moving to a new place. In stage 1, you romanticize everything (see Jolly good! and the fourth paragraph in this post). Even the weird stuff is new and exciting (oh look! the hot and cold water flow separately out of separate faucets! how quaint!) But then you enter stage 2, angrily replacing your rose-colored glasses with I-hate-everything glasses (I hate separate faucets! I always freeze or burn my hands!).


Another example.

On Saturday, I walked half a mile to Angel to shop for new trainers (= UK English for running shoes. I hate the word trainers. See what I mean?). My knees started aching halfway there and I angrily thought 'WHY DO I HAVE TO WALK EVERYWHERE? I MISS MY CAR.' I didn't find any shoe stores in the area and I angrily thought 'WHY CAN'T I DO ALL MY SHOPPING AT ONCE INSTEAD OF WALKING MILES AND MILES TO INDIVIDUAL STORES?' The grocery store was completely out of salmon fillets, so naturally I thought, 'UK GROCERY STORES ARE DUMB. THEY'RE ALWAYS OUT OF EVERYTHING.' On the way home, I stopped at Boots to buy deodorant and the grand finale of Saturday's stage 2 rage descended upon me when I rediscovered that Brits don't use stick deodorant. All deodorants, besides one or two overpriced speciality brands, are spray-on or liquid roll-on. Infuriating. I HATE LIQUID DEODORANT.

And so forth.

I pride myself in being positive and adaptable in new places, but sometimes I too am irritated by the unfamiliar. Sometimes I just want to get in my car and drive to Wal-Mart where I'm certain to find my favorite, non-liquid deodorant. Confession. 

Mountains, banks, & cheesecake

Today I'm waiting on UPS to deliver my passport and UK visa. And then I'll buy a plane ticket, hopefully in time to avoid the hurricane.

The past two weeks have been chaotic. But chaos energizes me. I kind of love it. A few days ago, after I'd applied for my visa, I started getting stir crazy. By noon on Wednesday, I'd almost booked a plane ticket back to Wyoming so I wouldn't miss Signal's annual Christmas party. (It's an old tradition, having Christmas on August 25 when everyone is together. It started in Yellowstone, but we do it better.)

Taken from here.

I miss the mountains. I miss my mountain friends. I wish I could stay there forever - or at least for the rest of the season. 

But London awaits me!  

Can we pause for a moment to count the ways in which London is the complete opposite of mountain life? 

Restaurant work, investment bank. 

Hiking boots, high heels. 

Black bears, black taxi cabs. 

Millions of trees and less than half a million people in the entire state of Wyoming; millions of people and itty bitty green spaces. 

But I love city life. It'll be nice to have dozens of ethnic restaurants in my neighborhood, to walk everywhere, to catch buses, to see shows and museums and street theater, to stay in on rainy days with a cup of tea, listening to the comforting hum of the street below my window. And pubs. There are pubs everywhere. And meat pies. And bookshops.

I'm also excited about working in an investment bank, primarily because I never, ever thought I would ever work in an investment bank. A brief explanation: I'm part of a business internship program that helps Americans find jobs in London-based companies. Technically, it's not a "real job" because I'm not getting a paycheck, but practically, it's a real job. I'll be working full-time in the bank's risk management department. Didn't I major in English and history? Yes, yes, I did. Do I know anything about finance? Not very much, no, but I have been paying more attention to NPR's finance features. That's a start, right?

I think this job will be a huge and satisfying challenge. Lots of people quit jobs like these and embark on round-the-world journeys and call that the adventure... I'm doing it in reverse. And if I'm awkward and awful in investment banking, if I hate it after 12 months, I can dislike - and avoid - the industry for the rest of my life, knowing that I gave it a shot.

Kind of like I do with oysters.

And who knows? Maybe investment banking will be like cheesecake. I thought I hated it for years, and one day I tried it. The rest is history.

Well...

On Wednesday, I said goodbye to the mountains...

...and am headed to London some time this week!

What a whirlwind. 

Teton photos, London updates, and stories in general to follow shortly.

Choose your own adventure

Yesterday was a long, 20 hour day of fun. We pretty much made it up as we went along...

It all started on Wednesday night, down by the lake, skipping rocks, fighting mosquitoes... Ryan and Dan were talking about hiking up Paintbrush Divide on Thursday, after another employee did it last week and told said to them, "Don't do it. I almost died several times."  The divide is super icy, snowy, and steep. I said, "Guys, don't do that. It's dangerous."  They said, "We can do it." Later they invited me along and I said, "I'll go if we do something besides Paintbrush." They said, "Okay, let's do something else."  Pretty sure they appreciated having a girl for an excuse to back out.


We then headed to the bar and had a heaping pile of free nachos, compliments of Dan the restaurant manager. Over these nachos, jokes were told and Thursday's plans were made. Ryan, Dan, Crista, and I met for breakfast at 7am, rented a motor boat, and headed to Moran Bay ten miles across Jackson Lake. About halfway there, our motor died. The boys tried to fix the motor, with much enthusiasm but  little success.

Crista and I looked for grizzly bears on the shore and imagined what it would be like to have a bunch of grizzlies swimming toward us, like sharks. We tried paddling but our oars were too small. Eventually, we radioed the marina and they towed us back to shore. 

We regrouped, had some coffee and snacks, and decided not to give up on our day. We packed up everything we might possibly need on summer day in Wyoming, including but not limited to duct tape, hiking boots, bear spray, swim suits, paperback novels, and large quantities of food, and piled into Dan's car and hit the road with no particular destination in mind. Three hours later, we were in Idaho, hiking up a beautiful trail surrounded by wildflowers. Three uphill miles later, we reached a lake and the boys decided to climb to the peak of the mountain while Crista and I sat on a log, chatting about life.

On the way back down, the boys decided to slide down a 100-yard snow field.

It was dinnertime, and I wanted to head back to Jackson to get in line for Harry Potter tickets. It was the midnight viewing of the final HP movie and I had to see it. Unfortunately, my partners in adventure wanted to check out a free outdoor music fest in Victor, Idaho instead. I wanted to throw a tantrum and insist on Jackson, but I'm not five-years-old, so I gave in. What a great decision that was. We parked on mainstreet and the first thing Dan saw was a funky old movie theater, advertising Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II. We immediately bought tickets, had a beer and played a game of horse shoes, then headed over to the park for the music fest. It was the perfect night... warm, breezy, with a slow pink sunset. I ate an amazing cheeseburger, made from locally-grown beef, and then had a second dinner of mango red chicken curry, and we danced to a very talented funk band from New Orleans.

At 10:30pm, we grabbed some coffee from a gas station and joined twenty or so high schoolers outside the movie theater to make sure we got good seats for the final Harry Potter. The theater, "Melodrama Playhouse," was so old and had so much character.

While we waited for the movie to start, exhausted but oh-so-happy, we drew Harry Potter lightning scars on our foreheads with Crista's eyeliner pencil.

The movie was totally worth the wait and the sleepiness and the perfect end to an amazing day. We were all in bed by 3:30am and we all slept well.

The end.

The northern lights

Despite the sunshine, I've been in a grumpy mood for the past few days. The one thing I'm enjoying is rereading Phillip Pullman's "Northern Lights." I read the His Dark Materials trilogy when we first moved to England in 2002 and loved it so much that I named our dog after the heroine, Lyra. The books contain so much raw and beautiful adventure, and Lyra and the other kids are so innocent and fierce... they make me want to be ten years old again... preferably traveling across universes atop a loyal armored bear.

 Right now, Lyra is in her world's equivalent of Norway. I stumbled across this beautiful photo of Norway earlier... and it reminded of this song. Have a listen and have a good day.

Oh dear

This blog is starving for attention!


Things are crazy right now, but I thought I would say a quick hello :)

Crazy things:


I'm now 23-years-old.  I like that 23 is a prime number and that I'm not in my mid-twenties quite yet.  There was a small gathering at the lakehouse in Georgia where: we enjoyed yummy pork chops, coconut rice, and Gigi's cupcakes, I saved our dog Lyra from drowning, and my parents gave me two things I really wanted:  a 1960s-style one-piece bathing suit and measuring utensils for metric-system baking recipes.  (I could be a mid-twentieth century housewife, apparently.)


After work last week, my friend introduced me to "the taco truck," which parks in a mechanic shop parking lot on Opelika Road.  A Mexican guy operates the truck, serving Latinos at various job sites during the day and whoever stops by the truck at night.  Amazing and legit tacos (for a buck fifty each).  I'm excited to go back next week when Dave's here visiting.


Speaking of which, Dave arrives on Thursday.  We're driving to Mobile, picking up my friend Erika from the airport, then spending the weekend in New Orleans.  Spring break is a week later, and we'll be down in Orange Beach. (I'll be baking and wearing my 1960s one-piece.)


Work and school aside, I'm finishing various applications for graduate schools, internships, and jobs, all centered around my epic and daunting goal of legally residing in the UK this fall.  I haven't talked much about Operation UK.  But it's fully underway.  If you care at all about my sanity, please say a prayer that something perfect works out.  Don't worry, I'm flexible when it comes to details.

In terms of summer plans, it looks like I'm headed back to Wyoming.  And I'm super excited.  I don't think I'll ever live in a more beautiful spot than at the foot of the Tetons.


That's all for now!  I'm sad I'm not updating more often, but I promise, I'm determined to keep this blog alive and, soon, to give it lots of love and care.

Good advice (from Rainer Marie Rilke) for a prime numbered wannabe 1960s baker who loves people, mountains, and London and who makes lots of too-big plans day after day:

You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you…as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers , which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

Things we did in Guatemala

Happy two thousand and eleven!


Surprise, surprise - I didn't blog at all during the Christmas holidays.  Too busy eating obscene amounts of food and being happy!  I hope everyone had a great Christmas and is looking forward to this year.  I certainly am.  For the next seven days I'm having a "blog party" so to speak - one new blog post every day, maybe two or three!  Many posts will wrap up my Guatemala chapter, some will include lots of photos, and there'll be a few random posts as well.

First of all, straight out of my blog notebook: Things we did in Guatemala.  Hannah and I's trip had its ups and downs.  We didn't have the experience we had expected.  One day I was grumpy and dwelling on the things we didn't accomplish, and I decided to list our positive, memorable, and/or noteworthy experiences to remind myself that yes, we had indeed seen and learned a lot!

Things we did in Guatemala
October - December 2010

- successfully chicken bussed from Antigua from Reu, leaping off at the Esquintla McDonald's just in time.

- almost panicked (but didn't) when we couldn't find cheap hostels in Reu; settled on La Quinta in the central park; happily took cold showers and happily drank cold beers to escape the heat.


- the first camioneta to Nueva Alianza:  This bus is going to break down.  Why is everyone staring at me?  Oh my gosh, that woman has a plastic bag full of living adolescent chickens.

- eating dinner with Joel, Carlos, and Kevan during the first week at Nueva Alianza.  Broken Spanish conversations. How fun it was (initially).

- buying our Tigo internet stick in Antigua = a nightmare.  Realized how limited my Spanish skills were.

- first shopping trip in Reu = hot and overwhelming; unpleasant mercado; no idea how much to pay for produce (I was so paranoid about people ripping me off because I was a gringa); woman steals our chicken and pancake mix.

- ... how good our first macaroni and cheese dinner was, even if it was third choice after chicken and pancakes.

- freaked out after week one in Nueva Alianza; questioned my world view and life goals; received encouraging and practical thoughts from Dave on issues related to international development.

- learned to quickly - and without hesitation - light a gas stove (I'd struggled with this before, embarrassing but true).

- learned to wash my clothes in a pila.

- ate and loved cauliflower torta (cauliflower cooked in a fried egg), arroz con leche, and the camioneta's wife's homemade tamales.

- read Johnathan Franzen's "Freedom" and discussed it ALOT with Hannah (I recommend the book).

- impressed with Earth Lodge's tree houses and their work with local schools (more about this later in the week).
- saw sea turtles dig nests and swim out to sea.

- LOVED swimming in the Pacific Ocean; usually I hate oceans, so this was a nice change.

- cooked a substantial meal for thirteen people.

- volunteered at La Festival de la Tortuga, Monterrico and Hawaii's second annual turtle festival.

- riding in the back of pick-up trucks = fun and now my preferred method of transportation.

- rode a boat, truck, and three busses to Chichicastanango with Hannah and Amy and was really happy.

- climbed Volcán San Pedro and couldn't walk normally for days.

- dock at San Marcos = idyllic.  Prettiest spot I encountered in Guatemala.

- saw a murder victim in the streets of Monterrico.

- caught a ride in the back of a truck with two heavily armed soldiers.  They were among the friendliest Guatemalans we met.  One of them earnestly described (in Spanish) his efforts to learn English in his spare time, and his earnestness warmed my heart.

- avoided being stranded in Reu by the grace of the old woman selling snacks at the cuatro caminos intersection in Reu and Nueva Alianza's agua pura truck driver.  This experience, too, warmed my heart.

Happy New Year, and see you tomorrow!

San Pedro & Lake Atitlán

San Pedro, one of the many towns on Lake Atitlán, and where we stayed for several days.

Amy, James, and I walking towards the cathedral on Sunday.  There was a big Christmas festival that evening, including a parade, marching band, and basketball game.

There were lots of beautiful flowers along San Pedro's streets.
Behind Hannah and Amy you can see a sign for one of San Pedro's many Spanish language schools.

It's true.  Lots of good (cheap) food here!  If you're ever in San Pedro, definitely visit Clover's.  

I love this photo.  We were on the dock at San Marcos waiting to catch a boat back to San Pedro.

Not the cutest photo of me - I was concentrating!
But a great shot of Volcán San Pedro, which we climbed the next day.  

Amy at the top of the volcano.

Yesterday was a Catholic feast day - the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.  Last night everyone was on the streets to celebrate the virgin Mary.  There were bands, food stalls, a parade, and tons of fireworks.  The day before, December 7, was the Burning of the Devil, which didn't seem to be a huge deal in San Pedro. 

Hannah and I are back in Antigua for a few days.   We were thrilled to discover that in our absence this hostel somehow acquired a copy of the newest Harry Potter movie.  That's how we're spending our evening... we even have microwave popcorn!  

Boat, truck, bus bus bus

Last night I had a prolonged bad moment during which I wanted to be anywhere but Guatemala. Lots of disillusionment and self-doubt.

But I vowed to wake up this morning with a positive attitude and renewed determination to make the next two weeks super memorable and fun. It wasn't easy as we had to get up at six am, I was still grumpy, and there was no coffee involved. After arriving in Panajachel and having an okay breakfast, we discovered a shuttle to Chichicastanango would be fifteen American dollars - a ridiculous price for the distance. I inquired about a chicken bus to Chichi and was told to take a boat to somewhere I couldn't pronounce, then a pick-up truck to St. something, and then a bus to Solalá and then a bus to somewhere else, and then a bus to Chichi. Are you kidding me? But I was determined to make it to Chichi by Saturday night so we could go to mass at the local cathedral. Down to the boat docks we trekked. A half dozen jewelry vendors and boatsmen followed, trying to sell their craft. By the time we arrived at the docks, I couldn't remember the name of our first destination. We dumbly stared at all the boats.

Amy: If it's gonna be too hard, why don't we just spent the night here and catch a shuttle in the morning?

The voice in my head: AGHHHH. I give up. I have no more energy to fight my disillusionment and bad attitude.

Two boatsmen continued to pester us about our boating needs until finally an exasperated Amy said, "WE'RE TRYING TO GO TO CHICHI," and one of the men said the name of our first destination - the one I'd forgotten and have forgotten again - and led us to the appropriate dock. Thank you, persistent boatsmen.

The ensuing journey was delightful because it was physical, dirty, with-the-locals travel and got us to our destination for less than two American dollars. We didn't end up going to mass tonight, but I don't care. I fought the bad attitude and came out on the other side. In the morning we'll spend a few hours at the market, searching for Christmas presents and honing our bargaining skills. And tomorrow we'll head back to Lake Atitlán where Amy's boyfriend James is studying Spanish.

Congratulations to Auburn (again)! I've been planning a potential trip to St. Louis for New Year's, and now I have a national championship road trip to consider as well. The traveling never stops!

You might notice I've changed the title of my blog and my name from Mary Elizabeth to Mary Beth. I intend to keep this blog for awhile and will be experimenting with different titles, layouts, and content during the next two months. Thanks for understanding.

(I don't know what I was thinking with the whole Mary Elizabeth thing, either.)

Nueva Alianza photos

i am currently in an internet cafe in reu and thought i would take the opportunity to upload a few photos from the past three weeks. on wednesday, we´re relocating to parque hawaii, a national park(more or less) on the pacific coast. internet is quite scarce at the moment, but hopefully i´ll manage a few updates later this week.

welcome!

the kitchen (la cocina)

reading outside before we realized this is where the most bugs are

i fail at setting up mosquito nets

our beds and closets

the first meal we prepared... oatmeal, pineapple, fried egg, and coffee

the patio outside our room and la sala

a failed attempt to document the dozens of bug bites on my neck

chopping veggies in the dark

thrilled about our first mac n cheese dinner

dan does laundry at la pila

sarita!

an untoasted coffee bean

jungle hike

at one of the three waterfalls

kevin finds a cobra (not poisonous)and comes over to play

view from the outside la cocina

Prickly heat

The word "adventure" is overused. To me, an adventure only starts when everything goes wrong.
- Yvon Chouinard

I've just self-diagnosed myself with heat rash. It's red, itchy, and on both knees, the top of one foot, and the small of my back. Wikipedia helpfully suggests I move into an air conditioned building and avoid hot and humid climates.

There's some sort of meeting going on in el comedor this morning, and while I was making pancakes, a male leader from the community came into the kitchen and told Sara to bring out some water. She stopped what she was doing and quickly produced a tray with pitchers of water while the man stood in the doorway watching. As she filled the glasses, he said something to her, she nodded, poured out the water, and proceeded to wash the already clean glasses while he continued to do nothing. I felt the need to share that scene as an amendment to yesterday's la comunidad de mujeres post.

Patience & anti-itch cream

I've been too exhausted and confused to write this week. Yesterday I managed to churn out a few strongly worded emails to Dave and my parents (lucky them). Along with other advice, my mom kindly suggested that I update my blog.

Once upon a time I was vomiting violently in a concrete bathroom in the middle of no where Bolivia at 3am, wondering how I could love something - travel - that left me vomiting, violently, in a concrete bathroom, thousands of miles from my family, potentially soon to be dead. That's the first time I remember questioning my love of travel and my broader worldview. I may have even promised God I'd be more sensible and conventional and less stupid if he'd let me out of that concrete bathroom alive. (Oops.) More recently, I've questioned my values and decisions because being away from college is scary and the jokes people make about me going to Guatemala are scary. Usually I question myself for 24 to 36 hours before deciding that never mind, I'm on the right track, just don't stop believin'.

I could be wrong, but I think these two months in Guatemala are going to equal two months of frequent self-doubt and questioning. It sucks, but not all adventures are waterfalls, nursery rhymes with local children, or near death experiences recounted over a couple of cold beers. Sometimes adventures are overwhelming challenges that require impossible amounts of patience and anti-itch cream.

No refrigeration, no hot water, no lukewarm water, constant bug bites... a nine hour long shopping trip into Reu during which a woman steals our chicken and pancake mix, depriving us of meat and comfort food... a five kilometer uphill hike with two dozen eggs in tow and being laughed at by a large group of teenage Guatemalans... not being able to satisfyingly rant to our new friends about our awful day... all of these things are tough.

But the ultimate challenge is handling the persistent whisper in my ear: what are you doing here? You can go home. There's carpet and gallons of cold milk and paying jobs and people who under-stand you when you ask where the can opener is. When I get over the language barrier and rustic lifestyle, the voice continues, what do you think you're actually learning? You're kidding yourself, wasting your time. No one really wants you here, except to make a few extra bucks. No one needs you here. They don't need to learn English. You may fix the building up, but it'll just fall back into disrepair. And the absolute worse is, you've had your fun. But now you see, don't you? The people who stay home and advance their careers and invest in a house KNOW WHAT THEY ARE DOING. It's not too late. You can turn this around. The airport is only five sweaty bone rattling bus rides away.

The whispering voice is compelling and, if you must know, fully in control of my emotions. But I am not a quitter. I am a learner, damnit. That is what new places and new people and facing scary things are about - learning. And arguably I'll learn more useful, meaningful lessons when things are hard than when things conform to my expectations and liking.

Yesterday I learned the Spanish word for "green bean." Tonight I'm learning how to make coconut flan; we're currently discussing how to crack a coconut since Sara is gone for the day and we don't have a machete. Tomorrow I will take another nine hour trip to the market, buy another chicken and, this time, it won't get stolen. I choose to consider all the above progress!