You say it’s your birthday.

I share a birthday month with a very famous figure: the baby Jesus. I will say that it kind of stinks sometimes, only because people are so very busy running around, getting stressed out because of too many parties, too many calories to burn, too many gifts to buy, too many bills to pay. That means a December birthday can be overlooked quite easily (don’t even get me started on the Christmas/Birthday combination gifts). My family has never overlooked my birthday, and because of the holidays, I am often with some or all of them for the celebration (or two or three celebrations). I have also planned my own festivities when not yet home for the holidays – eating delicious food at a fun restaurant with friends is always a great time. For one noteworthy birthday, I went to San Francisco with some girlfriends. But usually, it’s pretty low-key.

Here I am with friends for my birthday weekend in San Francisco.
Guess what we're eating. Guatemalan food of course! 

In all my travels, I have only been overseas on my birthday once. And if you have been following this blog at all, you can guess that that place was Guatemala. So yes, a few years ago, I was in Xela, Guatemala for my birthday. And just like here in the U.S., people were extremely busy with Christmas activities ... shopping, cooking, decorating, buying gifts for a long list of friends and family. I wasn’t planning or expecting anything special for my birthday that year because I was staying with a family I had only known for a couple months. I didn’t need anything special because I was somewhere different and interesting, which was special enough. Plus, at work we were busy wrapping Christmas gifts for all the children in the afterschool program. That was like a party in and of itself! Sitting around with my boss and his family, rockin’ out to music, wrapping gifts for children who would even appreciate a boring pair of socks if that were their gift. How can you beat it?

But the morning of my birthday, as I was getting into the shower, I heard “Pop! Pop! Pop!” outside the window. Firecrackers. They are quite a common sound during the holiday season in Latin America, very celebratory. What I found out when I went to the kitchen for breakfast after getting ready was that the father of my host house had set them off in my honor. It was tradition – lighting firecrackers the morning of someone’s birthday. So cool! 

My birthday was happily eclipsed by the actual Christmas party at the afterschool program, where we gave out the gifts we had been wrapping the day before. Such excitement came from the children of all ages. They were so appreciative of so little. Their cute faces just lit up as they opened their presents. That was even more fantastic than firecrackers.

Here are two of the boys, with their gifts
and refreshments. How cute are they?!

After the holiday party, I went home and one of the daughters had made a dessert for my birthday. It was delicious and so nice that they had thought of me again. I hadn’t been there long, but they were already well aware of how much I loved sweets. Then I went out to dinner with my boss, Jaime, and his wife, Betty. We were able to hang out, talk, enjoy some good food, have a glass of wine and just have fun outside of work (and wrapping gifts). I couldn’t have asked for a nicer day.

 

Here I am, completely mesmerized by the cake
Luci (next to me) had made for me.

I was far from home on that birthday, far away from family and friends. And as is usual this time of year, people were busy. But those I had met in Xela, whom I had only known for a very brief time, made sure they helped me celebrate in some way. I enjoy spending my birthday with loved ones close to home. But on that birthday, being far away from home was very special. If you are lucky enough to travel abroad, and you happen to be in another country on your birthday, I hope you are with people like those I befriended in Guatemala. Because it will be a lifelong memory, one you will remember on those future birthdays at home, one that will stay with you when you don’t have morning firecrackers to wish you “Happy Birthday.”

Read up.

It is the holiday season, the season of giving, the season of buying, the season of pushing and shoving, the season of shoppers in Wal-Mart pepper-spraying one another to get a DVD player on sale. Right. I’m not really into that scene. Shopping amidst madness and mayhem. I do not need to endure such hell. Best of luck to those of you who do.

So anyway, I wanted to put that out there since you may think that in this particular blog post I am trying to get you to buy something. But I am not. I am merely suggesting some interesting reading to those of you who are thinking of a big trip in the coming year. You could put these books on your own Christmas or Hanukkah list. Or you could just skip on down to the library and check them out. I am not receiving any payment from the authors for recommending their books. They don’t even know I’m alive. But I think their books are worth a read, especially for you travelers or wanna-be travelers out there. 

Tales of a Female Nomad: Living at Large in the World, by Rita Golden Gelman.

The author of this book left her life behind, all things and possessions, and decided to “live in the world,” wherever the wind took her. Her experiences and adventures will intrigue the hell out of you. She is an inspiration to solo female travelers everywhere!

No Touch Monkey!: And Other Travel Lessons Learned Too Late by Ayun Halliday. Some of these stories are so dang funny I about split a gut. The author is usually traveling with a boyfriend, but this doesn’t keep her from finding herself in hairy situations that make for hilarious tales of adventure mishaps and cultural misunderstandings. One of my favorite parts is when she has to explain what the tampons in her bag are to a clueless soldier at an airport who evidently suspects they are ammunition of some kind.

Avoiding Prison and Other Noble Vacation Goals: Adventures in Love and Danger, by Wendy Dale. Crazy and hilarious. I gasped, I cringed, I laughed. Her adventures are beyond any I’ve had, and I am very thankful for that! This book makes Eat, Pray, Love seem like reading Ikea bookcase assembly instructions in comparison.  

And no, I’m not going to recommend Eat, Pray, Love. I just couldn't relate, and hasn’t it gotten enough publicity? Haven't most of us women read it already anyway? 

There are so many great travel books out there, and there are so many more I intend to read. In the meantime, as you think about the coming new year and the adventure you may want to take or have already planned, don’t just read guidebooks and websites. Read some travel memoirs by other female travelers. And read some that are not about where you intend or wish to go. Use the books to spread your wings a bit. They will inspire you no matter what.  

If any of you out there have recommendations for other travel memoirs, please post them in the comments. I'd love to hear! 

Keep your eyes open.

The other week, I wrote to you about the possible perils of walking around with earbuds (see this post). Today I am going to address another sense – one that if you’ve got it, you had better use. I’m talking about vision. Open your eyeballs, people! Especially you lone female travelers out there. And I don’t mean to say that being vigilant isn’t necessary when you’re not traveling. Because things can happen anywhere, good or bad. But when you’re in a strange city, you’ve got to pay attention to your surroundings.

Be aware. You can look like you are in another world, but don’t actually be in another world. Enjoy the sights, hear the sounds, smell the smells and all that. But also be able to notice if someone is following you or eyeing your bag. And on that note, make sure you carry the bag or purse across your body, with the “goods” in front of you. If you’re carrying a daypack, carry it in front of you, especially when you’re in crowds. You would not believe how easy it is for someone to zip open that pack when it’s on your back and you won’t even notice it. Super easy.

When I am walking around a place – any place -- I notice details, like an awesome pair of shoes another woman is wearing as she passes me, or the cobalt blue window trim on a house, or the happy hour chirping of a tree full of canaries. And I notice the not-so-charming things as well. Like the guy urinating in the middle of the sidewalk in New York City as my friend and I walked by. I have seen plenty of guys urinate in public, in many different global locations. But they usually at least lean against a wall or fence or something. Not this guy. So maybe he wasn’t so difficult to notice.

Anyway, when I was visiting one particular city (and I’m not going to divulge what city this was because I don’t want people to think less of it or feel they cannot visit because of this one particular incident I am about to share), I had an experience that required vigilant eyes. I was walking by myself near the city center. It was almost dark, but there were several lights. There were many people walking about, so many that I had to bob and weave as I headed down the sidewalk. One man I walked passed looked at me and said something incomprehensible. He was speaking in drunken mumble. Or maybe it was strung-out-on-drugs mumble. I don’t know for sure. As I did with many people I passed, we had eye contact. No big whoop.

So I continued walking, and I went another couple blocks when I see this guy again. Might be a coincidence. But I’m not sure, so I walk around the corner and head toward a bar where someone I know works. There are many people there, it is very crowded, and I slip into the crowd quickly and nonchalantly, find a staff person and ask if my friend is working. She is not, and just as I turn back around toward the door, there is that guy again. I just know this is not a coincidence. He walks passed me, like he is not really looking at me. But I know better and make a beeline for the door, turn and head to the other end of the building where a woman is mopping the floor. I say to her, “There is a man following me.” She tells me to get into the office of a travel agent, where I find one of the owners of the agency. I told him what happened and pretty soon we can hear some drunkenly-slurred talking. That dude was outside! He followed me to the travel agency! He walked into the office! Luckily, the travel agent stepped in. He went outside his office and had a discussion with Mr. Grain Alcohol. I could hear them half arguing, although I didn’t catch all that was said. I just know the drunk guy was making little to no sense, and the travel agent was sternly telling him to get the hell out of there. Yeah, get the hell out of here!

After that, I sat in the office with the travel agent for a while, just to be safe. Pretty soon, the lady who was mopping the floor came back inside and said the crazy guy had left. He went back toward where the bar was, so I thanked the two who had helped, and quickly left out the backway, to head home in a speedy manner.

I don’t know what would’ve happened if I didn’t notice this guy following me. Maybe nothing. Maybe he would’ve tried to talk to me and I would’ve just walked away and that would’ve been that. But I doubt it. He was on something. He was being overly persistent. He was on a mission to catch up with me and I just knew I had to find a safe place, to get him away from me. I was lucky there were so many people around. I was lucky that the travel agency was open. And he was lucky I didn’t elbow him in the throat. Okay, that would probably be a bad idea unless absolutely necessary. I strongly advise steering clear of physical contact of any kind and just getting the hell away, like I did. Finding someone to help is always good, too. Finding a safe place, where there are other people is helpful. If you need to call the police, you can do it there.

You don’t have to stand on a dark corner, alone and defenseless. And you don’t have to go all Beatrix Kiddo in Kill Bill on someone either (although how cool was she?). But be aware of what is going on around you. You don’t have to be paranoid, you just have to use your senses. And your common sense. If you find yourself in an unpleasant situation, ask for help. It doesn’t have to be a big, strong man who comes to your aid. Sometimes just being with another person makes you an undesirable target. Just keep your eyes open, enjoy the sights, but stay safe.

Be thankful.

When I travel to a developing country, there are many differences from life in the United States, many of which I have written about in this blog. But today, as we wrap up Thanksgiving Day here in the U.S., I am reminded of one of the biggest differences: the level of poverty. You know and I know that people are hurting here in the U.S. these days. People are hurting all over the world. People who used to have jobs don’t. People who used to have money have less. People who used to find an abundance of food on their tables need to rely on food donations. People who once had their own homes no longer do. The land of plenty now has plenty of people going through difficult times.

So I'm not going to write a long narrative about how if we have a roof over our heads, food in the fridge, and a computer that allows us to read blogs, we should be grateful. Instead I am going to share part of an email I sent to some folks during my time volunteering for a community education center in Guatemala (so some of you have seen it). This is the experience just after it happened, and how I saw it. But I think it illustrates how many of us still have so much more than others could ever imagine, even in these trying times. If you travel, especially to developing countries, and make the effort to see what local life is like, you may also realize how much you really have.

What I saw yesterday went beyond inconvenience in the developing world. I saw poverty at a level I´ve never seen up close. I see poverty here in Guatemala. Everyday. The neighborhood where I work is poor. I mean dirt poor. Burning wood to cook food poor. If there is not wood, burning anything from cardboard to plastic bags poor. I mean no running water. No lovely tiled bathroom. No hot shower. No shower at all. A cement floor if you´re lucky.  Dirt floor more likely. Mud floor during the rainy season. This is how it is. Our kids are poor.

At the school where I work, we have started a Godparents program for people in other countries (the U.S., Denmark, Sweden, Holland, etc.) to sponsor our students to attend public schools. It only costs $180 USD a year and includes the school, uniforms, supplies, a doctor´s visit, and any needed medical care during the year. As a result, we are accepting applications from the families with students who cannot afford to go to school. Imagine not being able to afford $180 a year. But they have nothing. As part of the application process, we go to the homes to interview the families and to see the living conditions. I did this for the first time yesterday... I went with my boss´s wife, Betty. One of the children who will be getting this scholarship is 6 years old and she is so unbelievably cute. The most amazing smile and she is so affectionate (as are most of the kids here ... they run up to you and hug you) and seems quite content.

We went to her house, which is a tiny building (shack) on the same property as a gravel pit of some kind. The pit is actually across the road, but here they load up the trucks or something. I wasn't really sure, but it made for a very dirty area. Their house is ONE room. ONE! And nine people live there. NINE! The mother of this little girl and the grandmother are the only adults.  The grandmother and mother both have kids about the same age (little). The grandmother also has two teenagers, ages 13 and 16 and they do not go to school. Something is wrong with their papers and they were told they couldn´t get their papers to register them for school or something. I´m not sure exactly, but in any case, they are not in school. They live in this tiny, one room house with all these people, with nothing to do. Nothing to better themselves. No dreams to aspire to ... I just cannot imagine how depressing it must be for them. Or maybe it isn´t. Because that is all they know. The fathers of these kids are not around. It is just these two women, who are both very young considering, and their seven kids. The grandmother cleans houses and I´m not sure if the daughter does anything, but she is still nursing a baby who must be around 10 months old.

The house was one room, including a tiny space to cook. There were two double beds, which they also use for sitting and eating I suppose. There were no windows. Only a front door which they keep open in the day with a blanket strung across the entrance. I don´t know where they keep their clothes, or if they even have more than what they were wearing. Their clothes were dirty and torn. The floor was dirt. The smell inside was not good. I don´t know what it was because I have no idea where the bathroom was. They had a cat, and they had tied an old scrappy t-shirt around its neck like a leash and the cat walked around with this shirt dragging behind it. I don´t think the smell was the cat because there was plenty of dirt outside for the cat to use for the bathroom. The smell might have been a combination of dirt, sweat, heat from nine bodies and who knows what else. But they don´t know any differently. This is their home. This is their life. This is every day for them. Not a visit for 20 minutes. This is it. What can they possibly do? They have no education (although at least they can read and write, which is a very big deal). They have no skills really. Where does the change happen?

Hopefully with the kids. Hopefully with this little girl who will have the opportunity to go to school, see the world through different eyes and possibly find a dream that she can follow and realize as she gets older. Education is such an important part of empowerment. This is what my boss, Jaime, believes and it is the reason why he started this organization. You just don´t fully understand what you are up against until you see the living conditions of the people you are helping. I am a spoiled American. I know how lucky I am and I know there are people in the U.S. who have very little, who fight to put food on the table, who can´t afford to pay their heating bill. My dad volunteers in a food pantry and he sees this everyday he works there. Being here just makes it even more obvious to me how bad it is for many in other parts of the world. And we can only do so much. Which is frustrating. But every little bit counts. I have to believe that.

Thank you for reading my blog. And Happy Thanksgiving to all of you, even to those of you in other parts of the world where today was simply "Thursday."  

Listen up!

Just the other day, I was walking in a park in South Austin, Texas, a park with trails in a woodsy area that makes it feel like I’m miles away from the noise and busy streets of the city, even though I am not. I like hiking this area. I have seen deer, and many different types of birds, even some roadrunners. If it rains (which it doesn’t – there is a drought after all), there is a nice little stream. People walk their dogs, ride mountain bikes, or run the trails. You can hear birds singing and the leaves rustling in the breeze.

The other day, I heard a pig. Normally I would think I was imagining things, but there have been problems with wild pigs in central Texas and I’m from Iowa, so I do know what a pig sounds like. So I listened again and heard that grunting noise and I decided to run, because those are some scary animals. Just to make sure, I called my brother and asked, “Wild pigs are mean, right?” And he told me, “Oh yeah, get out of there.” So I did, keeping a vigilant eye out for anything moving, scoping out trees that I could climb if I was charged by a feral pig and his friends. It could happen and has. Look it up (okay, you can look it up here).

It made me think about people who walk and run while listening to their iPods or other MP3 players. It made me think of people who are in a strange place, in another country, who are walking around with ear buds. I may be old school, but since I can hear, I like to hear what is going on, for enjoyment and for safety. When I’m walking in that park, I like to hear the mockingbirds singing, or the sound of brush cracking when a deer starts to run, or the crunching footsteps of an approaching runner. If I had been listening to Adele or the latest podcast of Car Talk on my iPod, I definitely would not have heard the pig. Who knows what would have happened? Pigs can be nasty little buggers. Very aggressive. I know stories too disgusting to tell in this blog. Trust me on this. When you are blasting music in your own private concert, walking along with only you and the songs, totally entranced by a voice or beat, just remember that pigs come in many shapes and sizes. I’m just sayin’.

This also makes me think about you women out there traveling on your own. I know some of you are just not yourselves without your music. When you are on a plane, flying to a faraway place, then yes, an iPod is an awesome travel companion. But when exploring new lands, don’t tune out so much that you miss what is going on around you once you are off that plane. Don’t be so into that new Florence and the Machine album that you don’t hear someone running up behind you to steal your bag. Don’t ignore the noise of the market, or what a little girl is saying to her mother (even if you don’t speak the language), or the story the elderly man next to you on the bus is eager to tell you (even if you don’t speak the language). Sometimes you just need to unplug to get the full experience. Sometimes you should unplug for your own safety. And sometimes unplugging ends up plugging you in to an experience that sounds pretty amazing.

Bob Barker, come on down!

When I was in Guatemala, I saw more street dogs than you can shake a rawhide chew stick at. It is possible that some were “pets,” but some people let their pets roam free, so it was hard to distinguish the street dog from the family pet. I know many people would say there are more pressing issues to tackle in Latin America. But I think Bob Barker could do a world of good in the “get your pets spayed and neutered” campaign down there. I’m just saying there were lots of stray dogs. And they needed some love. And some soap and water.

Here is a photo collection I simply call “Sleepy Dogs in Guatemala.” (And I am sorry, but I cannot format a photo layout worth dog doo on Blogger. They sure don't make it simple.)

 I just wanted to take them all home! 

Have any of you read or heard of the children’s book called Walter the Farting Dog? Well, if you haven’t, it is quite amusing. The artwork is cool, too. And I swear the dog in the photo below is Walter. Looks just like him. Although this dog is female. And quite possibly pregnant. She is a pathetic looking thing, and I think she knew it because she was avoiding my camera like a flea bath. She kept trotting away from me and was all, “I don’t think so, lady. No photos today.” She needed some serious TLC, poor thing.

 This is a family dog that lived in my host house. Her name is La Baby. Cute as she is, she would not let me come near her. Which is weird, because I am a total animal person and I have always been sure that dogs could tell. Here in Austin, dogs follow me all the time. They get out of their fenced-in yards, see me taking a walk and just tag along (until I help them get home ... those stories are too numerous to recount here). But not La Baby. She was having none of that. I stayed in that house for three months and never once did she let me pet her. What is up with that?!   

I will leave you with the famous, oft-repeated quote from the host with the most: 

"Bob Barker reminding you to help control the pet population. Have your pet spayed or neutered. Bye-bye." 

And if you can't let sleeping dogs lie, adopt one! If adopting a dog in a foreign country is not in your travel plans, there are many dogs in shelters at home that would love to be yours. 

Time flies ... when you’re in Latin America.

When I was about to take my first, long-term trip to Latin America, someone who had been there many, many times advised that I just get rid of my watch. I always wore a watch – and this was before cell phones told us what time it was – so I thought about it, but kept my watch. But on the flight from the U.S. to Panamá, guess what! My watch stopped. I saw it as a sign: my friend was right. I was going to Latin America, where it was more laid back and relaxed, where time was a suggestion, not a demand. Watches?! I didn’t need no stinkin’ watches!

I know I could’ve found a watch battery, but I decided not to, since this was so obviously a sign for me to get into the Latin American groove. The sense of time in Latin America is much more “loose” than it is in the United States. My gosh, people get uptight about punctuality here. If you are to meet someone at 9:00, you sure better be there at 9:00. And I was once working for a job training program where an instructor told the class, “If you’re on time, you’re late.” This is not true in Latin America, where if you’re on time, you are often early. Sometimes very early. 

This is true for parties, too, so be very aware. If you are lucky enough to be invited to a local party and they tell you it starts at 8:00, that really means that is the time they are going to start getting ready. If you actually show up at that time, the hostess will be in the shower, the host will be out getting the beer, and you will be sitting there on the couch, looking like an idiot who has nothing better to do than sit on a couch. The party won’t really get started until about 10:00, and it won’t be at its peak until midnight or so. Be prepared to stay out until the wee hours of the morning. If you don’t stay, you will be the ultimate party pooper. 

This is not to say that nothing is ever on time or that people never show up when they say they will. It doesn’t mean that movies don’t start on time or that when someone is to pick you up at a certain time, they won’t show up until later. No. Punctuality exists, very much so for some people. I’m just saying that if someone isn’t punctual, or if something doesn’t start on time, people don’t have a cow over it. They don’t care. They just go with the flow. “Oh, s/he’s late. I’ll just sit here and read the paper then. Or I’ll talk to the taxi driver about last night's game. Or I’ll just wait and be alone with my thoughts.” I know, crazy. (I am sure many of these waiting people are very likely on their smart phones, texting, and making phone calls these days ... but I am also sure there is a high level of patience attached to those activities.)

So yes, I lived without my watch for quite a few months while I was in Panamá. I didn’t really need it. It's not like I didn’t ever know what time it was or that I never looked at a clock. I still used an alarm clock to get up in the morning. But I think I did pretty well trying to adapt to a new sense of time. It was definitely a learning experience. I didn’t really become a more laid-back person regarding time. But I definitely understand it in a different way when I’m down there.

Before I returned to the U.S., I decided I wanted to buy a new watch there in Panamá. Yes, they sold them there, despite this relaxed way of thinking about time. I went to a store in a mall and started looking at simple, waterproof, big, sport watches. Nothing fancy. I tried them on, and when the salesman found out I was looking for myself, he told me I couldn’t get a man’s watch because I was a woman. That irked me, even though I’m sure he just meant that it wouldn’t fit or look fashionable (right). I bought a watch, ready to tell time again with a simple flick of my wrist. The salesman just shrugged his shoulders in surrender, knowing there was no talking sense to me. 

I still have that watch. I still wear that watch. I have been through many bands, many batteries, and it keeps on ticking (but no, it’s not a Timex). I can’t really wear it in the water anymore because it gets steamed up. And the face is a bit scratched. But I still wear it for any sporty or outdoor activities. I love that watch. I love it because I got it in Panamá. I love it because it’s a man’s watch and I bought it even though a man told me I couldn’t. I love it because it’s simple as heck and still glows in the dark. I love it because I feel it keeps Latin American time. No, it doesn’t make me late. It doesn’t give me an excuse to be late. But I got it in Latin America, the same place where I developed a new sense of time, at least for a little while. I wear it when I’m in Latin America and have purchased bands and batteries in little, family owned jewelry stores in Caracas, Xela, and Oaxaca. I have worn it a lot more often in the U.S. and it was made in Japan, but to me, it is a Latin American watch, telling Latin American time.

Don’t get me wrong, I know plenty of non-Latin American people in the U.S. who are habitually late. And I know plenty of Latin Americans who are never late. But the difference is, the late habit in the U.S. is annoying many people: friends, family, bosses, coworkers. That wouldn’t be the case in Latin America. People would understand or just wouldn’t get upset about it. Time is just part of life, like humidity or a bunch of plantains. It is there, but why think about it? There are more important things to think about, like the fact that friends are getting together or there’s a party at your cousin’s house. Those things are much more thought-worthy than punctuality or tardiness. So just chill out. When you are traveling in Latin America, you might be wearing a watch, but it doesn’t mean anyone else is.