Living on the edge...literally

We didn't actually enter the city of Huehuetenango, turning from the paved road onto a very narrow one-lane (that's only half of a narrow lane for each direction) dirt track which headed up the mountain.  The scenery was pleasant and everything seemed fine until a vehicle approached coming the opposite direction.  There really isn't quite enough room for the two vehicles to pass, so the one on the outside is in great danger of actually falling off of a cliff.  This happens every time another vehicle is encountered which was probably five or six times during the 20-minute climb.  There are small crosses at the edge of the road marking the places where people have fallen to their deaths.  And of course there are no guard rails.  I found myself wondering what sort of skinny four-wheel-drive vehicle would be the best for this dangerous drive which we would have to make every time we needed groceries or anything at all from the city.  A week later when Archimandrite Michael came from Nueva Concepcion to get us he arrived in the wee hours of the morning and chose to stay at a little hotel near the turn off from the main highway rather than ascend the mountain during the dark.  I'm still not sure if this was just because of the narrow treacherous road, or if he was worried about bandits as well.  In any case, if this trek down the mountain cannot be made at night then the seminary will need to be ready to deal with whatever might come up such as medical first aid.

11 (Sing a)long and Winding Road

"Joo are my soh-h-nshine, my only soh-h-nshine"
Archimandrite Andres had spontaneously burst into song as we sped along the twisting highway through the scenic mountains on our way to the site of the future Sts. Peter and Paul Seminary near the small city of Huehuetenango.  I was surprised, and a bit astonished that Fr. Andres does the driving himself on these long and treacherous road trips.  Between important phone calls he entertained us with endless stories from his eventful life.

Even though this is the main highway running through the whole country, it is only two lanes: that's one lane for each direction.  We stopped at a produce stand which was perched precariously on the shoulder of the highway, barely fitting between the traffic -- speeding trucks, buses, SUV's, cars, and even some kind of small three-wheeled vehicles --, and a steep sloping hill which it seemed to me the whole produce stand was in constant danger of falling down.  I could picture all of the various colorful fruits and vegetables rolling wildly down the long slope and into a small river.

10 Lovely Icons

As we sat on the porch munching on green mangoes we could hear a Greek language recording of Byzantine chant wafting through the already hot and heavy mid-morning air.  Fr Alexios likes to listen to music while he paints the iconographic frescoes in the chapel.  Fr. Alexios is a Guatemalan priest and gifted artist who was raised by Archimandrite Andres.  He spent a year learning iconography in Greece, where he also became fluent in the Greek language.

Jose, our Colombian friend, has come to Guatemala to be taught icon painting by Fr. Alexios.  Jose, in turn, is teaching one of the orphan boys.

Fr. Alexios also teaches agronomy at the vo-tech college which is run by Fr. Andres.

Fr. Alexios showed us his latest icon and it was Matushka's name saint, Stylianos!

9 Links in a Small World

Fr. Andres charmed  us with colorful of stories from his life, not just in Guatemala; he has also lived in Rome, Colombia, and the US. It turns out his life and Fr. Peter's have intersected in a number of ways.

He taught at the Pontificia Universidad Javeriana in Bogota, where Fr. Peter later got his master's degree and where our son Ben is currently in graduate school.

He was even in Buffalo once to speak at the University.  (We have been living in Buffalo the past fifteen years.) He became very ill and was hospitalized at Sisters of Mercy Hospital.  Since he had no health insurance, he couldn't pay the hospital bill.  The sisters very kindly sent him home and he sent them some money later. Fr. Peter told Fr. Andres that he had just visited someone at Sisters Hospital the day before we departed for Guatemala.

At one time when he was still a Roman Catholic priest he was the rector of a prosperous Hispanic parish in Oakland, California, which is where Fr. Peter was born.  Fr. Andres left this very comfortable life to return to Guatemala out of love for his native land and especially for the campesinos (poor country people).

8 Loving Pastor

Archimandrite Andres Giron is the principal of a K-12 school where he teaches three of the high school classes himself.  He also runs a vo-tech agricultural college which uses the land adjacent to his house to grow corn and raise coches which at first sounded to me like Argentine cars, but are actually Guatemalan pigs.  I thought the Spanish for pig was cerdo or marrano or if its a wild pig maybe even cajuche, but in Guatemala they are definitely coches.  (I guess its related to the Colombian name for a messy person cochino.) 

There is a steady stream of people coming to ask Fr. Andres for guidance, comfort, financial help, sympathy, etc.  He doesn't turn anyone away, but is always available to talk and pray with each person.  He has been known to personally wash and cure horrible wounds with prayer and home remedies. His love is lived out among the people and this is why they trust him.

7 Laundry in the Chicken Yard

After a noisy Matins service and a leisurely breakfast of the ever-present black beans and corn tortillas, I decided to borrow a broom and sweep our little room. I wanted to do it before the heat of the day.  I was surprised to find ashes amid the dust not only in our room but even more in the dirt from the long porch. I didn't think we were close to any volcanoes, but I asked someone about the ashes and was told they are from the burning of sugar cane fields which is done to harvest the sugar.  They said this is done at all times of the year, so the ashes are constantly around.  I was to learn the hard way to check for ashes and soot before sitting in a chair.

Everything at Nueva Concepcion is very lush and green and there are some beautiful plants that Fr. Andres has collected.  He is an expert gardener. The buildings are in various states of disrepair, but the original architecture of the main house is very nice.  Fr Andres designed it himself.

There is a very dusty, dirt yard behind the house with a roofed and chicken-wire-fenced laundry area.  I found it interesting that they let the chickens run loose (we frequently had to shoo them out of the living/dining room), and penned in the laundry to protect it presumably from chicken poop and, I guess, from eggs being laid in the dirty or clean clothes.

Some of the clothes lines are made from barbed wire.  This keeps the socks from blowing off of the line, but also rips holes into the cloth.  I have seen laundry hung to dry on a barbed wire fence before, but this was my first encounter with a barbed wire clothes line.

Two large dogs were kept in kennels since they couldn't be trusted not to bite.  It was unclear whether they had just been penned up temporarily or if they are usually kept that way.  Several peacocks strutted in a pen. Lizards abounded not just in the yard, but sometimes under one's bed...

6 Lots of Hugs

"¡Que pases buena noche, Madre!" (Have a  good night, Matushka!)
"¡Igualmente, que duermes!" (You, too.  Sleep well!)

Slight variations to this warm exchange were repeated with each of the around 30 teenage boys. After awhile this became monotonous.  I rejected the impulse to throw in cute Colombian colloquialisms about dreaming of angels....soon my tired brain began to provide a mental soundtrack to the scene,  "....So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye..."  I couldn't stop my silly brain from conjuring up the going-off-to-bed scene from "The Sound of Music",  as each of the orphan boys gave a ceremonious hug to each person present before heading politely off to bed.  

There is an awful lot of hugging in Guatemala.  And the Guatemalan hug is not perfunctory; it is a very warm and firm embrace.  Fr. Peter says the Guatemalan hug lasts a few seconds longer than one expects.  Our Colombian friend Jose is in culture shock.  In Colombia you might be given an abrazo (bear hug), but only if the person hasn't seen you in quite a long time.  Poor Jose  is tired of all of the hugging and of being wished "Provecho!" (Bon Appetit) by complete strangers in restaurants.  He also doesn't understand why Guatemalan's don't seem to want to go swimming as often as he does.