Mercados de Guatemala

July 4, 2010

I was going to get on Skype tonight and talk to people, but no one was on. It took me five or ten minutes to realize that it was the 4^th, and that everyone was out watching fireworks and roasting hotdogs. Oh yeah…

My host father took me to a market yesterday to get some vegetables and such for dinner. Guatemalan markets are super awesome. Not the stupid touristy ones, where all you can buy is blankets made in Chinese sweatshops and shipped over and/or shirts that say “I Heart Guatemala.” Those don’t count. I mean REAL Guatemalan markets, the ones where candy-colored bras and superhero-patterned underpants are sold next to piles of strawberries and bundles of cilantro and bags of herbs and spices with neatly rolled tops. Markets where one can find anything under the sun except for condoms, and I’m sure that if one looked long and hard enough (immature snicker, sorry Mom), those could be found as well. Markets where the best (and only) way to sell ones wares is to SHOUT AT THE TOP OF YOUR VOICE ABOUT JUST HOW FRIGGIN’ AWESOME THEY ARE!!!!! Markets where raw meat is just hanging out, minding its own business in the window of a tiny butcher shop, live chickens are for sale, everybody haggles for everything and nobody really gives in on the price. Markets are awesome.

We also went to a mall. That was a change. They’re super proud of their malls here, and it shows – there are like 10 in one square mile, and that is only a bit of an exaggeration. One of the stores that we visited was called “Carrion.” Contrary to its name (which would signify a sporting-goods store), it was a clothing store. My parents didn’t get my sarcasm when I told them that “dead animals” is a great name for a clothing store. Sarcasm doesn’t translate very well. Couple that with my utter lack of facial expressions and monotone voice, and my personality falls flat a LOT. I’m pretty sure they think I’m the most boring person ever.

On a completely unrelated note, my host father’s uncle died this weekend. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do about that. “Sorry your uncle died?” I’m not good with the comforting-people thing, or the empathy thing, and in situations like this, that is more than a bit of a problem.