the gringo goes to the jungle.

Look at this faithful readers 2 updates in a week. I'm on a roll.

I just got back from my three day stay in the Mayan Village of San Benito Poite. It was an incredible experience and I have many hilarious stories. But for now I thought it would be best just to give you my first impressions. This is directly out of my journal so bear with me...

"Pat (my roomate) dropped me off at the old school bus that served as the bus to San Benito Poite. Truck fulls of men were loading enormous sacs of rice as well as cartons of eggs and other recently bought goods into the back of the bus. I met my host brother. I could barely understand a word he was saying. It then occured to me that he was the one that was going to translate for the rest of the family that spoke solely Ket'chi. Oh boy! anxiety and excitement began to grip my chest.

I walked up the steps of the packed school bus and the loud banter and bartering in high spirited Ket'chi died immediatly. Total silence. 50 pairs of dark brown eyes watching me as I awkwardly made my way down the isle of the old school bus. I had heard the Mayan people were quiet people. This is going to be a long few days.

Mayan people are small people. Built like little squares made of steel. I notice they sit comfortably three to a seat on the old school bus with room for all their bags and recent buys from, the "big city" (note: PG is one of the smallest cities in Belize) .

My seat mate is a Mayan man that looks, I would say, not a day under 150 years old. His feet barely touch the floor while my knees are jammed into the seat in front of me. (The last time I was on a bus like this, I think I was in the 7th grade and we were going to the Air and Space Museum) He stares at me in amazement and silence as I write this. Something tells me he cant read.

I am tense from the anxiety of being so different and so wildy out of place I hear "Wha' es you-er nammme?" Says a little voice named Oscar over my left shoulder. He becomes my first friend. Goodwork Matt, one down four thousand to go.

Oscar is five and we have a great relationship. He points at things of mine and says "Can I have?". No oscar you cannot have my tshirt. Basically, we are the best of friends.

I just realized, as I stare through the windshield to take in the journey ahead, nothing blocks my view, even though I am half way back in the bus. The jet black heads of mothers, children, men and chickens can barely see over the seat in front of them. At least I have a good view. The 13 people 5 babies and two chickens behind me aren't so lucky.

A realization sets in. These are the people I will be working with for the next two years, I am only on the bus and I feel wildly out of place. Should be an interesting two years to say the least.

I've never seen so many people cramped on a bus before. This is the market bus, so it must only run twice a day. No seats left, an average of 3 people and a baby to a seat. The isle down the bus has just as many people standing, all laughing, yelling and talking in Ket'chi, a language I apparently will never comprehend. The heat is intense from all these bodies so close to one another, keep in mind it is 90 degrees to begin with before I got on the cattle car. I am sweating like I am at a full sprint and Im not even moving.

We keep making stops to pick up more people, I am convinced there is no way we can possibly hold another person on the bus, regardless of how tiny their Mayan frame. A man puts a 5 gallon bucket down next to me, a makeshift seat. Clearly he is a pro who has made this trek a time or two.

To my unfortunate suprise - about 5 miles out of PG the pavement stops and the entire bus is banging and rattleing around on the grey dirt road- we have 3 hours to go. I am convinced that all the riders and I (what I estimate to be equivilant of the population of North Dakota) are going to flip the bus on the next hill. In all the banging about my eye catches the glint of an old copper sign at the front of the bus (keep in mind my perfect view with this bus load of oompa loompas) that reads "Your Childrens Safety is our BUSINESS". I look around and see 5 children standing on a seat two rows up all with their heads out the window, babys swoddled to their mother's breat smooshed into the seat in front of them as their Mommas falls asleep, and in the back 10 boys have no seat at all but sit/ ride sacs of rice like they are bucking broncos. The irony is just too much and I chuckle out loud to my self. The acient Mayan ruin stirs next to me then continues to snore.

Most of the bus clears out at Tumulk'in, San Benito Poite here we come.

I fell asleep at some point and wake to a banter of high pitched excited Ket'chi. I have no idea whats going on and everyone is clearing out off the bus. I look out the window and we are what seems to be, in the middle of the jungle. I find my host brother Martiquo, and he says with a smile. The bridge is out, the river flooded! (Why is he so excited? haha) Sure enough the raging waters flow over what I assume at one point was the bridge. We ford across these fast past waters the water up to my knees, these poor little men its up to their thighs. WE have to cross not one, but two former bridges, now raging flood waters. Finally we make it to the other side and my little friend (who reminds me of Indiana Jones' little asain sidekick) says now we walk to his house. What he ment by walk was hike a mile up a semi mountain.

It was a really great weekend and I learned so much but I thought it would be more interesting jsut to have my initial thoughts.

Peace and Love- back from the jungle.