Foiled. Again.

As I sit here, the sound of the rain is drowning out all other sounds. And we are expecting five more days of such. Tropical Storm Alex, which allegedly battered the north, including Tikal, was downgraded to a tropical depression by the time it reached the highlands. So we have been left intact, but drenched.

This weekend, I had big plans. And thanks to Alex, Stefan and I were forced to resort to Plan B.

On Friday, I said two goodbyes, which put me in a sour mood. After classes wrapped up, I badefarewell to Olivia, who left for Canada by way of Antigua on Friday afternoon. Later that day, I met Steph and Cassandra at a little chocolate shop for fried plantains and chocolate and ice cream and to bid farewell to Cassandra, who is heading home to Chicago, also by way of Antigua and Tikal. Steph and Cassandra were students at my first school, but they had since transferredto another school here near the Parque Central. On Friday night we didn't have our usual graduation dinner at the school, because we held it during the break. So I spent Friday night inbed, reading. And it was luscious. After saying goodbye to Cassandra I hiked up to Zone 3 andthe super market that is located there and withdrew some money and bought a sparetoothbrush because my Chacos were covered with 7 weeks of Xela street funk, and needed to be scrubbed something fierce. On the way home I stopped by Vrisa Books (just to look!!!) andhappened upon a lovely textbook titled, "Globalization, Spirituality and Justice: Navigating thePath to Peace." I have only read 2 chapters but so far I love it. Although it has been a fierce, sobering read.

Saturday the great big plans were to climb an extinct volcano, by the light of the full moon, in order to catch a view of a not-extinct volcano at sunrise. I was very excited. And very nervous. In true Rachel fashion I obsessed about whether I should climb it or not. The travel guide at our school made a point to say, three separate times, how hard the climb was when he was talking about the trip. And several weeks ago MRM climbed Acatenango near Antigua and it was hellacious. So I was worried and googled all sorts of things about climbing volcanoes and talked to everyone who would listen to me about whether or not I should attempt it. I didn't have pants, I don't have pants here. That was another packing mistake that I have come to regret. I have capris, but no pants. Because who needs pants in a tropical country? Also, I have no hiking boots. So I was going to climb in capris, and Chacos, with socks, on the first day of my period. All the warning signs in my head that said maybe this isn't a good idea were overruled by how romantic it sounded to climb a volcano under a full moon.

So, Stefan had been in Guat City celebrating Pride but was coming back on Saturday for theclimb. When he got back in town we determined that he needed a headlamp and went aboutlooking for one. By this point on Saturday, I had chatted briefly with MRM who was in Belize, and directly in the path of Tropical Storm Alex. We discussed whether or not she should leave orstay put, she decided to stay put, and the last thing she said was, "OK, it's starting to rain, gottago." Having lived through lots and lots and lots of rain with her, I took this to mean, "I am in themiddle of a hurricane, must get offline." So a good deal of my weekend was spent worrying abouther as it rained more and more in Xela, and I assumed it was a bazillion times worse in Belize.

So, Stefan and I stepped out into said rain to look for a headlamp, which I skillfully asked for as a "lampera para tu cabeza?" from the clerks of several stores near the Park and they all had no idea what I was talking about. After giving up in town, we decided to walk to the mall. It costs 1.25Q to ride to the mall, which is something like 15 cents, but for some reason, we decided to walk rather than take the bus. So we arrived, soaking wet. Me in my saran wrap, leaking rain coat, Stefan in his also leaking, knock off Adidas rain coat, that he paid an ungodly sum for at the local market. We squelched our way through the mall until we found this random "outdoor goods" store that sold guns, rafts, swimming caps, and headlamps! The clerk tried to sell Stefan 2 flashlights in addition to the headlamp, and Stefan loves to spend money, but I kindly reminded him that he probably didn't need a headlamp and 2 flashlights. So having purchased that, we still needed water for the climb and chocolates for the altitude. But by now I was really cold from being so wet, and the thought of climbing all night long, and possibly not being dry for another day was a little depressing. So I called the tour company to see what the status of the trip was and was told it had been cancelled, because mudslides and switchbacks aren't the safest combination. I was both relieved and disappointed. A whole Saturday night. And nothing to do.

Stefan asked if I wanted to go to the mall. The other mall, the big one. I said sure, and then westarted off. Again, walking. Again, I have no idea why. The big mall, Hiper Pais, is about an hour walk away, but we had already covered half the distance. So off we went, walking down the highway that has no shoulder during Saturday traffic, in the rain. On the way there you pass the Templo de Minerva which is literally a giant replica of the Greek Parthenon that one of the dictators had built to encourage the population to appreciate education. Next to Templo de Minerva is a smaller outdoor market that we detoured through. Markets are a little gross to begin with, what with no running water and lots of animal carcasses for sale that have been sitting there for hours, and the food that is rotten or not fit to sell has been tossed on the ground, which is also where people deposit all their trash. But after hours of rain, markets are another thing entirely. I had retired my Chacos for the weekend because they were so dirty, and was wearing a flimsy pair of flipflops, wading through the filth, while skin and bones dogs picked among it all. Beyond the market is a zoo. Yes, we have a zoo. I had no idea. Suddenly I noticed we were in the middle of a small forest, but in a parking lot, with long low buildings ahead of us on one side and the largest playground I have every seen (it is seriously like three stories tall) ahead on the other side. Stefan said the animals in the zoo are as skinny as the dogs on the street and it is incredibly depressing. Noted.

Once we passed through the zoo, we were back on the highway and a quick walk from Hiper Pais. This was my first time there, and I am sorry to admit, it thrilled me. It was like being in America again. And not even America, it was like being in California. The mall is huge and has a WalMart attached to it and a dozen restaurants and went on for acre after glorious acre. I was giddy. And then I felt terrible and ashamed for feeling giddy. We wandered around, checked out what was playing at the cinema, and then had dinner at the food court. It was like being a preteen again. We circled the food court a few times and Stefan decided, based on the advertisements, that Taco Bell would be the most food for our money, so we got crunch wraps and nachos and once our food appeared Stefan was extremely underimpressed and complained about how little it resembled the photos on the menu.

After dinner I begged him to go to a movie with me, but he said we had to save the movie forSunday, since there we still had another whole day to fill. So, we wandered some more. We wentto two stores and I almost bought a knock Broadway DVD of "Sweeney Todd" before thinkingbetter of it. Guatemala was still celebrating MJ's life, and every store was playing his hits, whichwas fun. I asked if there was a bookstore and Stefan took me to this bizarre place that was halfPier 1 Imports, half New Age head shop. A row of Chinese Buddhas. A row of Indian Buddhas. A row of Wiccan goods. A row of Samurai swords. A row of everything you could ever want for a Christmas manger. Icons imported fromRussia. Didgeridoos imported from Australia. Indigenous this, indigenous that. Incense. Candles. Books on yoga and diabetes. It was all a littleoverwhelming.

After the head shop we took a bus home, and Stefan was going out to the club, I was not. But he talked me into coming back to his place to look at photos of his travels while he got ready, and I am glad I did. He has lived one of those lives that I feel I can't relate to, but am fascinated by nonetheless. He is young, rich, brilliant, cultured, gay, fluent in 5 languages, comfortable in an additional 4. He causually mentioned his family's second estate on the Aegean Coast and said he would "be happy to host" me there or in Istanbul. He showed me photos of summers on the Dalmatian Coast, winters in Persepolis. Syndey. Sarajevo. Shiraz. Thousands of photos. I was enthralled, and incredibly jealous, and not a little bit sad. The pictures of Iran were so gorgeous and I felt a tightness in my chest that I may never get to see it for myself. The photos of the graffiti in front of the American embassy in Tehran were ... we are not very popular over there, I'll say that.

series " Sunday I got up, showered, and got back in bed. It was raining too hard to leave. But hunger won out, and I met Stefan at a cafe called El Cuartito (the little room) for the Mexico v. Argentina game. We ended up spending most of the day at the Cafe, him on his computer, me slogging my way through homework. We had discovered in one another an equal obsession for the HBO series "True Blood," especially a shared appreciation for the actor who plays Sheriff Northman, Alex Skarsgard. If you haven't seen "True Blood," don't watch it. It is incredibly graphic. But also, it is wonderful. It's a Southern vampire show, by Alan Ball, who graced us with "Six Feet Under" and "American Beauty." Though it is a vampire show, it is wholly original, treating vampires like a minority social class, who are "out" and fighting for equal rights rather than being the freaky undead. As such, the show is incredibly campy and can get away with a lot of really intelligent social commentary about the minority experience in America. So, when I wasn't doing homework, we were watching clips from Season 2 and trying to find somewhere to watch the premiere of Season 3, which began in Latin America last night.

In the end, after walking around and asking everyone, we found one cafe and one bar that agreed to play it for us. We settled on the cafe, who was going to charge us 20Q to watch it in a private room. We inhaled our dinner and made it to the cafe at 6:45. I had to reexplain to the guy what we wanted them to do for us, what his wife had promised us earlier in the day. He ended up attempting to hook up the cable in three different rooms and none of them worked. He refunded our money. All day long, I had shifted between excitement and temperance, acknowledging that nothing here goes according to plan. Once our money was refunded, we had six minutes to make it across town to the other bar that had agreed to play it.

We took off. Stefen in tennis shoes with his laptop case flapping behind him, me in flip flops and my school bag jerking behind me. We ran, through the rain, across slick cobblestones. Looking back, we shouldn't have made it intact. I was literally dodging traffic, traffic that doesn't slow down for pedestrians to begin with. We darted from sidewalk to street, sidewalk to street, running uphill and down, me yelling as I fell behind, "Just go, go! Don't wait for me!" Stefan yelling back, "I won't leave you!" I hadn't yet run at elevation before, and I was wheezing by the time we blew into the bar, perspiring and frantic. We got there with a minute to spare, only to find out that HBO has been cancelled in Xela for a year. Why no one bothered to tell us this before then, I will never know.

Defeated, we stumbled out onto the street and for the first time since I have been here, a straydog growled at us and chased us down the street. We dodged into a tienda, where Stefan boughtsmokes and I cursed everyone I could think to blame for no HBO. Resolving to still enjoyourselves, we decided to go see a movie after all. Only, since it was Sunday, there was no bus service from the park. Stefan said we could catch a bus in front of the cemetery. But I had lived over there for weeks and never saw buses on Sundays. We argued about where to go to find a bus, finally headed up to La Democracia, the largest market here. It was all but deserted and there were no buses, but we did find one a few blocks past it at the McDonald's.

We arrived at the theater and I decided to see "The Backup Plan" or "Plan B" in Spanish, and Stefan wanted to see "The Hurt Locker" aka "Zone of Fear." I had already seen Zone of Fear twice before, and couldn't handle the tension again. I needed a terrible J-Lo romcom. And terrible it was. Awful! But Alex O'Loughlin is not difficult to look at for two hours, and neither is Manhattan. So all told, I was happy. Except that here, people not only leave their phones on during movies, but answer them, and have conversations.

After the movie, we had to walk around to the other side of the mall for a cab. We knew it was too late for buses to run, but I was expecting a row of taxis lined up. There was one. Stefan's first language is Russian, and every once in a while he will say something in English that makes no sense to me.

As we approached the taxi he said, "Close your face."
"Excuse me?"
"Close your face, I don't want him to see your blond face."

Oh, OK. I ducked further under my umbrella while Stefan asked the price to be taken back to the Park. 30 seconds later, he stalked towards me. "He said 40Q." Oh, good, I thought. I was used to paying 25Q for rides around town and 40Q seemed rather low for the extra distance we needed to cover. I was quite pleased with the price, and reached for my wallet. Stefan stopped me and said, "I told him no." "Why?" "Because it's too much. I will only pay 25Q." "Then go tell him we'll give him 25Q." There was no one else around. It was late. I figured we were this guy's only hope for business and he was our only hope for a ride, so surely we could work something out. Stefan consulted with the driver and then waved me over as he opened the door. We both settled into the cab and the driver looked at me and said, "35Q?"and Stefan and I both said, "No, 25Q"and then he motioned for us to get out.

We exited the cab and then stood there for a moment. Then Stefan said, "Come on, we'll find another." We crossed the empty highway and then proceded to stand in the mud on the other side of it, waiting for a cab to drive by. It rained on. After a half dozen cars drove by, none of them cabs, Stefan suggested we walk towards the next roundabout, near the zoo.

After a few moments he said, "It's because of your physique."
"My what? What are you talking about?"
"Your physique. You're a typical blond American. It's why he wanted more."
"But," I began, having several retorts and not sure which one to choose. Finally I just went with the obvious. "But I'm not blond."
"It doesn't matter. They can see you're American from a mile away. And they become theives."
I felt insulted. I wanted to say, "Well you look like a freaking terrorist. And they're not thieves, they are just trying to survive. And they suspect -- rightly -- that a safe ride home is worth 40Q to me." I said nothing. We walked in silence, nearing the zoo, which was large and spooky at night.

After a few more minutes Stefan commented, "This isn't safe, what we are doing."
"Walking?"
"Walking here, so late. Especially with my laptop."
"Well, let's go back and take the cab."
"No, I will not. It's a matter of honor."
I thought, are we then going to spend the next hour, honorably and dangerously walking home?

Ahead of us, on the other side of the highway, a car approached. Stefan ran across the road to stop it if it was a cab. I kept my typical American blond self hidden. It was a cab. Stefan hustled him. He was told, again, it would be 40Q and he walked off. I ran across the highway then and the driver honked at us, and said he would take us for 25Q.

We climbed in, and then realized we might not have enough money. I had 2 100Q notes, but the driver didn't have change for that. We scraped and scrounged and finally came up with either 27.25 or 22.50, I couldn't count the coins in the dark. I thought, if we don't have enough, what will he do, it's late and there are no witnesses. Then I checked myself for being so paranoid.

We arrived safely back at the park. Stefan walked me home and my room greeted me with the ever present rain, singing against the tin roof.

Right now, I am feeling a wee bit sick of Xela, and sick of classes, even though I adore my teacher. Tomorrow my bestie Natalie flies in for a week. She arrives in Xela Tuesday night. She will be here all day Wednesday and then I will put her on a bus on Thursday for Antigua, where she will meet up with MRM and our friends Tara and David, who are also flying in. Then I will meet the four of them on Saturday at Lago Atitlan, for four days in a stone cottage on the shore. I cannot wait.

Sorry so long in between posts. I have other posts in drafts, but haven't gotten around to finishing them. Thank you, as always, for reading. XOXO