Visit to Guanajuato

A week ago today was my last day of work at Harmon Hall, the language institute I've been working at during the previous months. I will be leaving the city of Guadalajara in a little more than a week, but before leaving, I decided to take a trip to one of Mexico's most prized possessions; a colonial town nestled in the mountains in central Mexico. The city, founded in 1554, played an important role in the independence of Mexico as it was the birthplace of the movement. At one time, it was home to Miguel Hidalgo as well as the famous artist Diego Rivera. If one desires to visit Mexico for the purpose of its culture, Guanajuato is unmistakably a center point.

"Un boleto a Guanajuato por favor." I had arrived to the Central Camionera fifteen minutes before the next departure to Guanajuato and full of excitement, I boarded the Primera Plus bus headed for the state of Guanajuato. Three short hours later we arrived in, what I thought was my destination. We were in Guanajuato alright, but not in the city of Guanajuato. Unknowingly, I marched myself downtown and began looking for a hostel. Unbeknownst to me, I spent two hours wondering the city of León, asking everyone where one could find a hostel or "Mercado Hidaldo." I couldn't figure out why everyone had raved about the beauty of this city, it was actually quite ugly. It wasn't until several blank stares later that I decided I had better buy a map. Luckily, before I purchased the map, I read the cover..."Mapa de León, Guanajuato." SHIT! Frustrated and sweaty, I marched myself back to the bus station, and boarded the next bus to the city of Guanajuato.

Finally, I arrived in Guanajuato. The city bus I had taken from the bus station winded and curved, hugging the rocky sides of the bronze hills that compliments Guanajuato's beauty. The bus passed through several tunnels, in fact, most of Guanajuato's main streets run underneath the city in tunnels with rock walls and arched entry and exit ways. I got down near the center of the city and began to explore. Quickly, I had tracked down the hostel, dropped my bag off and headed out toward the city. Walking through Guanajuato's streets feels almost like a maze, narrow streets and high walls decide your direction. The colors of the city wee incredible. Most of the homes edge the hillside that surrounds the city center. Bright colors reflect the sunlit homes that scale up the mountain side, seemingly defying physics or just ignorant to the power of mother nature herself. Walking around Guanajuato feels like walking around a a doll house or a little xmas village. Everything is small. Wander away from the main streets and you will find yourself in small alleyways between the thousands of homes that paint the hillside.

The next day I decided to head up to Pipila, a statue that sits atop one of the highest hills commemorating the legend of Pipila. Supposedly, the Alhodiga, a castle like structure in the center, was the last stronghold of the Spanish the turn of the 20th century. Unable to penetrate the castle due to Spanish gunfire from atop, Mexican soldiers below were in a bind. Pipila, with the help of others, placed a large slab of stone on his back. Deflecting bullets with the stone, he carried a torch to the door of the castle, lighting it on fire and allowing hundreds of Mexican soldiers to enter the castle and dismantle one of the last Spanish strongholds in the country. His heroism is honored with a giant statue overlooking the city with the same determination that carried his country to victory. I visited several other historic sights during that day and spent some time in one of the many plazas reading. I returned later in the evening with a six pack of cerveza Indio to watch the sunset from the roof of my hostel, coincidentally where a scene from the movie "Once Upon a Time in Mexico" was filmed. I invited another hostel resident I had befriended. Gary the frenchman complied and we had a nice discussion watching the sunset. He was spending one year traveling the world, and his stories inspired me to continue south to Colombia, his favorite country thus far. I also met two Japanese guys in the hostel who were spending through years bicycling the globe. They had started in Alaska, and had made it to Guanajuato. They were to continue south through Central America, South America, then on to Africa and Europe before crossing Asia and finishing back in Japan. Pretty brave for two guys who speak neither English nor Spanish.

Gary and I went out on the town for a drink. After a few disappointing stops we followed the Reggae music we had heard hours before. At the entrance of the bar was its only inhabitant, the owner "Ariel." Ariel turned out to be the baddest mo fo I had met. An immigrant from Cuba, we sat with Ariel and a few of his friends listening to reggae and salsa hits for the next few hours. Sharing stories, laughing, watching Ariel teach Cuban salsa steps, the night turned out to me a memorable one. He gave me many suggestions of places to visit in Cuba and rekindled my enthusiasm for the country.

I awoke chapped and cotton mouthed the next day, and hurriedly packed my belongings to catch my bus back to Guadalajara. In summary, my trip to Guanajuato was just what I needed. It reminded me of how much I love being on the road, meeting new people and creating memories with complete strangers. I returned to Guadalajara refreshed and optimistic. My next stop is Morelia to visit some old friends, then on to Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca. Good times.

Housing Project San Luis Talpa, El Salvador

In July of 2009, I arrived in the San Salvador airport as a volunteer for the Fuller Center for Housing. A city that boasts one of the highest murder rates in the world, around twelve murders a day, San Salvador's violence and socioeconomic issues are the result of a bloody civil war spanning twelve years (1980-1992) and taking the lives of over 75,000 of its citizens. Most recently, the image of El Salvador is characterized by the tattooed faces of the MS-13 and the 18th street gang whose beginnings are traced back to inner city Los Angeles when Salvadoran immigrants were bullied by preexisting Mexican gangs. Today these two gangs are largely responsible for the violence that torments this beautiful landscape and its wonderful people.

After becoming acquainted with the rest of the group, whose members consisted primarily of great folks from Mason, Georgia, we were directed to our rented guest house. We had dinner that night, prayed for the safety of the group and for the work we had ahead of us. Since we had arrived on Saturday, we had Sunday to mosey about and decided to take an elective trip to Zoyapango, a neighborhood just outside of the city, to see a recently completed project. Two vans bumped up a poorly paved road to one of the most gang infested neighborhoods of the capitol city where murders are a daily occurrence, blank stares were abundant. Through a retracting fence, the vans entered an area of about five acres surrounded by fifteen foot concrete walls topped with barbwire. What had previously been an oversized garbage dump two years ago, had been reproduced into a housing complex providing a home to over 200 families. Mike, Fuller Center's Salvadoran representative, is an American expat who headed the project and is truly a saint to the people of Zoyapango having not only constructed homes, but a school, playground area, and a soccer field. A true humanitarian.

We began our build early Monday morning around eight a.m. and I must say, an El Salvadoran day in July is beyond hot and humid, especially for a person raised in Seattle, Wa. We worked hard, and I did my best to act as foreman, translating and directing where we needed help. We took water breaks often to account for the gallons of sweat produced from pick axing water trenches, mixing concrete, constructing gardens, wheel-barreling dirt and grass among other tedious tasks. Every day around noon, we were provided a lunch cooked by some of the local community. Appreciative of our work, the Fuller Center has established over fifteen homes in an area so poverty stricken, many of the families were living in shacks made from cardboard, garbage bags, and sticks. Villa Kawanis, as the area is called, now provides the basic necessities for these families. During our time in Villa Kawanis, we made that possibility a reality for two more of these families. Prior to our arrival, another group had constructed a small building with sewing machines which the women use to make hand bags and clothes, which are then in turn sold to volunteers and other visitors! Because of Fuller Center, these people not only had newly constructed homes, but a chance at life. A chance to provide for their children, and a chance to live comfortably.

Finishing the second home in Villa Kawanis accounts for the fourth home I have helped to construct in Latin America, and one day I hope that number supersedes the hundreds. To volunteer with such an organization like Fuller Center is a truly unforgettable and rewarding experience. The next time you think of taking a vacation to get away from the stresses of life, where a beach a corona and a palapa await, take into consideration a volunteer project. The change in perspective you will experience will take care of that stress you feel, and the work you do will drastically improve the lives of countless underprivileged human beings. (If you think physically you are burdened, I had a seventy something year old woman working by my side, how's that for motivation? ha!).

In summary, my time spent in El Salvador was informative, inspiring, and worth while. Not only did we do something great for the people, I met some incredible Americans I will never forget. They're prayers, optimism, and encouragement echoes in my memory. I hope to turn this kind of assistance into my life's work one day, and this kind of experience continues to inspire me to do so.