I set out this morning to work my shift at Casa Jackson hoping my suspicious illness had passed enough to allow me the pleasure of being with the babies today. I still felt bad in the stomach, but my slight fever had subsided. We walked the 30 minutes from Carolina's to the Dreamer Center, but as soon as I arrived, I could barely stand vertical due to deep lingering pain in my abdomen. I hailed a tuk tuk and went back to Carolina's.
After several hours of laying down again, I couldn't take the idea of being indoors anymore, so I navigated my way to Central Park for some famous Guatemalan coffee con leche. I had the newest housemate in tow who had just arrived to Carolina's. His name is Donald-Don-Tony. He is from Bismark, ND (where the founder of The God's Child Project is from). He arrived in the house when I was the only guest home and he introduced himself to me as Donald. After he and I came back from downtown, I introduced him to Katelyn as Donald, but he said he'd rather be called Don. About an hour later, the others arrived home and then he told them he goes by Tony. Hence, his Guatemalan name is now Donald-Don-Tony.
Today was the first day since being in Guatemala in which I wore a shirt exposing both of my half-sleeve tattoos. Well, this is not a common sight in Antigua, unless you're a tourist or a gang member. Not being anything close to the latter, I was actually a bit surprised when I was walking down the sidewalk and a 10 year old kid came walking up to me, called me "honey", and asked me if I wanted some marijuana. I obviously told him No, but I was even more adamant that he understood that I was not his Honey!
At about 6:15 pm, I arrived at the Pollo Campero (like a KFC) to wait for the escort to walk me to the Homeless Shelter to serve food. I was just hanging in the front of the building when this American ex-pat who lives in Honduras, about 65 years old, walked up an began displaying his drunken conversation skills by complimenting my tattoos. He then proceeded to show me his faded- I-can't-tell-what-it-was arm tattoo that he got in his Army days. After that, he managed to work in that he was intending on asking the taxi drivers where he could get some "blow" and then asked if I would also like some cocaine if he could find some. Of course, in my nothing less than assertive way, proceeded to tell him to blow off (in so many words). No one ever came to escort me to the Shelter, so I headed back home for a great group dinner.
The girls and I went out to Mono Loco (Crazy Monkey) for Ladies Night. They serve liquor drinks for 4Q (50 cents US) on Tuesday nights. When's the last time you've given the bartender a $1 bill for a vodka and OJ and then he hands you 50 cents back? Pretty cheap! Other than the drinks it was pretty uneventful.
All in all, I'm glad to say that I feel much better than I have the last two days and can not wait to get back to Casa Jackson tomorrow morning. I am also going around with the social workers tomorrow visiting individual family homes. That should be quite an eye and heart opening experience.
Photo of me and the girls at Mono Loco.
All I have to say is "Ultreia"!
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