Where To Next…Down the Winding Road

Well, we still don’t know that for sure, but we do have some ideas. Most of you know that I (Matt) have been waiting to hear back from MFA programs to help us decide what next year could look like. It’s been a lot of anxious waiting, but today brought the first really good news.  So far I have been accepted to the University of Washington and Eastern Washington University, and wait-listed at the University of Oregon and the University of Virginia. (oh and rejected from Iowa).  I am still waiting to hear back from (a very competitive program at) Stanford and from North Carolina State, the new home of my favorite poet, Dorianne Laux.

For a while, with only rejection and waitlists to guide us, we started thinking about the many plan B options. Going to South America to teach? Joining the ranks of the Wild Man TV show and roughing it in the bush? Camping out in my parent’s backyard? Shaving my beard and fooling some folks into adopting us?

I even asked Elie if she would support my poetry habit (addiction) and let me practice without working (for cash, that is). She loves me enough to have said okay.

But now we’ll have to weigh the pros and cons of different programs, locations, money and so on. And speaking of money, we are accepting donations. No, I am kidding! We’re calling them contributions. Or investments. Care about the direction the world is headed? Invest in some high quality Matt & Elise, guaranteed to make the world a better place. Depressed? Matt & Elise will make you smile. Four easy installments of…well, what’s reasonable?

In other news, Elie received her certificate for completing the intense and greatly beneficial 40-hour training with guru, David Swenson. Next up? A month long Yoga Instructor course. Elie is offering a free sample class to anyone interested. (limited offer, restrictions apply).

Call us up if we haven’t made it your way yet. We want to see you all! Much love,

M. & E.

Time As Coyote’s Twin or How Time Became A Trickster

Our soles last touched Guatemalan ground one week ago. But through the magic mirrors and distorted windows of mind and memory, it feels much longer. The strangest part is how Elie and I were suddenly transported far from each other after having been consistently together for so long. By the sounds of it she has had a marvelous week in the Arizona sun with Marcia, Pui, Gena and Emma. Highlights included running, yoga, swimming, hiking in the desert, wine and good women-only conversation. Bonus: super spicy food cooked by chef Pui.

I, too, have had a good week, though a little disorienting. A few highlights have included a midday breakfast with Andrew at a classic diner, playing cards with Thom, indulgently long showers, coffee with the folks, good home made meals, and a powerful award ceremony hosted by my father’s organization, The Center For Ethical Leadership.

At the event, which celebrated two ethical leaders and one ethical organization, I had the chance to catch up with some old friends and make some new ones (one of whom is 77-year-old Anne Stadler. We have a coffee date soon.). I got to see my dad shine and was quite the proud son. I also got to look more spiffy than I have in quite some time.

I rarely feel as connected to world, or as spiritually present, as when I am at an event with The Center. Perhaps my dad will give me a job someday. Dad?

…….

These days I am marking more and more connections in my daily life. Flowing from dreams to waking, following instinct and intuition, not being afraid to make things happen. The other day at Barnes & Noble (I had a gift card), I saw a man looking at the literary magazines and decided to make a comment about one. We ended up talking about writing for a few minutes before deciding to exchange information. Regardless of the fact that I was a stranger half his age, authentic connection broke through the normal distance between people, and we’ll be having coffee this coming week.

I’ve also been quite surprised to realize how many folks my age I know in Seattle. I guess that means I can’t be a total hermit. I’ll have to get out and see people!

……..

In other news, Elie flies back to Minnesota today and will start an intensive Ashtanga Yoga course tomorrow with Ashtanga guru David Swenson. The intensive 40-hour course will immerse Elie in the teaching techniques of the primary series of Ashtanga yoga. She is becoming quite the guru herself (at least to me!).

…….

And finally, here are some photos of Elie working on her traditional Mayan weaving. The finished product is beautiful and looks great on her!

Isn’t she amazing?

Casa Emanuel and the Smell of Coffee

In our last weeks we enjoyed our hideaway at Casa Emanuel, an inexpensive (less than USD $3/night) hostel nestled between two separate coffee processing plants. Thanks to Folger’s and personal experience, most people know the rich and unmistakable bouquet of fresh coffee brewing. What they won’t recognize is the rancid stench of coffee beans rotting in house-sized mounds, waiting to be de-husked, washed and dried.

Coffee grows all around Lago Atitlan and you’d be hard pressed to find a place too far from the pungent sour smell of the ripe fruit. Upon our first visit to San Pedro we thought we were near a garbage dump, but began to recognize the smell as the unprocessed something we both love dearly and enjoy daily.

While I wouldn’t wish that smell on anyone each morning, I am glad to have a fuller appreciation for the sweet, warm darkness, swimming in me this very moment.

Always in Reverse

Yesterday was a day of shutting off. Of shuttles and airports and moving forward in a sitting position. At times throughout our travels we both longed for home, for family, friends, certain luxuries, and so on. We felt ready to pick up and go. But of course, as the days became countable on two hands, then one, an empty space began to stagger into our hearts.

The last two weeks were (at least for me, Matt) very, very relaxing. Lounging in hammocks, on rooftops, in kayaks, on street corners, in cafes and restaurants. I sang in courtyards like there was no tomorrow. And in some sense there wasn’t. And all of that was under the blue flag of the sky and the depth of Lago Atitlan, mountains rippling out from the very edge of the water.

I won’t speak for Elie here as we are sure to have some different feelings. After all, our experience was mostly shared, but also quite different. I am dazed. Not so much from merely being back in the land of plenty, seeing lawns and clean streets and no one on the street, but from the absence of the other. No more packs of dogs tearing the night open, bread ladies bringing warm loaves to your door with the song of I-have-something-you-want, no more Mayan color, street food, Quiche, Spanish, spangled buses, crusty and creaking, like a stuffed pepper on wheels, where the people are the meat and rice and vegetables (or whatever else you stuff peppers with).

Blessed. To have been. To have had the time. And now to be able to share the stories and bring this unnamed change back into this life. To be more compassionate and empathetic. More passionate and wild, and styled, and uninhibited.

I think my diet will remain largely tortillas, eggs, beans, rice and veggies for some time. I will still say con permiso instead of escuse me, vaya instead of okay, cuidado con mi guitarra instead of…well you should get that one.

We return to good things, no doubt. But this love crept up and entered us (probably transferred through street food to become lodged in our intestinal track) and there is no going back for some time.

Thanks to all of you who have been with us throughout. We missed you! We can’t wait to see you all. Keep checking on us here — we’ll continue to post pictures and reflections and stories for some time to come.

Much love, M. (& E.)

The Big Om

The lake almost breathes for us. Almost whispers Om in our ears. For Elie this is just too tempting not to take advantage of the nearby meditation retreat in San Marcos. She’ll spend the next week trying to empty her mind while I spend the next week helping to empty our bank account eating good food and hanging out in San Pedro. Have you noticed a pattern with us yet?

I returned from a fabulous time in Honduras, relaxing in the most beautiful (and cheapest) tropical paradise I know of. And it’s good to be back in Guatemala and strange to be in the last week of our time here. It’s exciting to think of seeing family and friends, but sad to leave this version of life we have been living down here.

We mostly feel lucky though to have had the chance to do this together. And we know we’ll be back. So keep a lookout for us in the very near future. We’ll be on your doorsteps looking to catch up, cook a meal and share some stories.

Thanks for being with us all the while. Much love from these parts. —M & E

P.S. — If you are going to be in the Denver area on April 24th, I will be giving my first official poetry reading ever at the famous Boulder Book Store in celebration of National Poetry Month. It would be wonderful to see some of you there.

A Honduras Story: Part I

With our dwindling funds and too much retirement for one restless person, I, Matthew R. Something, decided to leave for Honduras. The road was rough, the journey long. But the fruits of my long sit have, in fact, payed off. Let’s start at the beginning:

I left Xela around 10am on a minibus, just in time to get robbed (don’t worry! No violence! Just quick hands in a tight pocket and there goes $7…). Then to a shortage of buses, then bus seats. Four hours later I was in the over touristy junk town of Antigua, alone and with too much time on my hands. Sad night, momentarily amusing while two people had some very noisy sex in the bed right next to me. Gross. Advice: get a private room if you want to do that.

The next morning at 4am I left on a six hour shuttle just over the Honduran border. Then into a fancy bus for another six hours (not including delays and transfers). They showed two films. 3:10 to Yuma, which I would recommend and The Passion of the Christ, which I would definitely not recommend watching on a bus or in most other places.

Finally I made to La Ceiba that evening, got in touch with my pal Justin and we made our way to a restaurant for a late supper. Really though, La Ceiba is weird. It’s got everything the states has and in kind of freaked me out. So I was happy when we headed for the country side the next morning, where Justin has been living and volunteering at a free day care. I had the pleasure of spending a couple afternoons there and the kids are marvelous. So sweet and fun and good for the Spanish.

In spare time we hiked to the laguna close by, to a river with hot springs, played cards and monopoly and then we decided to head to the famed Bay of Islands. Which is where we are now. We were greeted by a pod of 15 dolphins on our way in, turquoise waters, $3/night housing and time to spare. So Utila it is for the next few days. Happy hour starts anytime now (no, really. Any time we want it too). I’ll bring more stories as they happen.

Much Love, —M.

P.S. Don’t feel sorry for me, but do feel sorry for Elie. Here is her story: “I was super hungry after class, so I headed over for some 3 for 10 veggie tacos. You know how I love lime, and well this lime was a toughy, I sqeezed and squeezed and couldn’t get any juice to drip down…so I squeezed with extra force, and the juice, pretty much all the juice in the entirelty of this limeslice went straight into my eyes. I was completely blinded. My eyes started pouring tears, and I’m feeling around the table for napkins, totally mortified, trying to decide whether to bolt out of the restaurant or just wait it out, hoping the tears would clear me out. I was mostly worried that someone was going to approach me and ask what was wrong and I couldn’t think of the Spanish word for squirted. About five minutes later my poor red eyes could see again. And I tried to calmly finish my last taco and guacamole, and then bolted out to put my sunglasses on and head home.”

And now she’s sick! So sorry babe! I’ll bring back some sand for you!

Taking a Stroll Down Retirement Lane

Ahhhh. Life without work. It’s perty dern relaxing. Up at around 8:00, cook a little breakfast, walk a few blocks to a coffee shop, set up the laptop, read some poems and news, sip the coffee, write some emails, write some poems. This goes on until noon when the tummy starts making small talk. Back to the apartment for a little lunch and mid-day TV. Like Law & Order: Criminal Intent with a three-layer quesadilla topped with sautéed onions and tomato and a tall glass of water.

After lunch it’s off to a second coffee shop for an afternoon of the same. This time it’s usually a mango smoothie before another cafecito. By 5:00, the day has plum tuckered me out. Back to the apartment to relax.

The big decision of the evening is whether we’ll stay in an cook or go out for dinner. Suddenly the sun sneaks out the back way behind the hills and it’s 8:30 and we’re hardly ashamed for yawning and brushing our teeth and climbing into bed.

Some nights we break up the routine and go on a real date. And we stay up later drinking wine listening to music and gazing into each other’s as though it were the first time we’d met each other. Yes, we are still very much in love.

Okay. So that’s my story at least. You want to hear my version of Elie’s version?

She wakes up at 6:00, showers (oh yeah…I only do that every few days), finishes her Spanish homework, has breakfast, then leaves around 7:30 to catch a microbus (i.e. crowded minivan) to the primary school where she has been volunteering in a 3rd grade classroom. Yesterday the teacher asked if she would teach math and proceeded to leave for over an hour. By lunch time she has already put in several hours, but it’s off Spanish class for another couple hours. Luckily she builds in an important half-hour on the rooftop terrace to keep her skin looking golden. Before dinner she might head off to the evening yoga class or practice on her own.

A change in her schedule is Ashtanga yoga in the morning, Spanish in the afternoon, and writing lesson plans at night. She is happy.

Soon (as in Monday), I’ll be off to Honduras for about nine days and Elie will keep on keeping on. When I return we’ll head to Lago Atitlan so she can spend a couple weeks at a meditation retreat and I’ll find some more cafes.

Okay, so I don’t just relax. I am working on a grant application from the National Endowment for the Arts, researching routes for my summer job, laboring over poems which I hope will be published soon and meeting with a friend to practice Spanish. The point is that we are enjoying our time under the shadow of it slipping by too quickly. Less than a month and we’ll be back in the States. We can’t wait to see you all then. For now, stay posted for updates from Honduras and the lake.

Much love from these parts. —M & E

P.S. Some photos from our fantastic week with Erin, Aria, and Andrew:

On top of the Volcan San Pedro (our legs were still sore a week later!)

Relaxing by the beautiful Lago Atitlan

View from our apartment rooftop!

Sweet hostel in Antigua, with the best plate of nachos ever

Notes from the Road

Our adventure began at 5:30am, bartering prices with taxi drivers in central park, Xela. Settling on an agreeable amount of quetzals, our friend Ashleigh goes to open the backseat door to find the driver`s drunk friend passed out in the backseat…no problem, the driver helps him out and we think that`s the end of him, but as we all pile in the station wagon, the driver opens up the trunk and in goes the drunk friend. So off we go to the bus station, Matt, Justin, Ashleigh and I, all hoping the drunk friend does not puke on our packs back there. He hardly stirred through the whole thing, but it turned out to be an omen of things to come.

Little did we know that we managed to get ourselves on to the chicken bus from hell. The buses are always crowded, and uncomfortable, and the roads bumpy, and the drivers a little crazy, but this one was insane! He drove like he wanted to kill us all, madly swirving around corners, racing past other buses, slamming on the brakes to pick up more people, dodgily dodging potholes and road bumps. Not to mention that the road we were on was a curvy mountain road under construction. At one point it looked like we were playing chicken with a giant backhoe, which certainly wasn`t getting out of the way and resulting in slamming on the brakes and all of us slamming forward in out seats. So it was no wonder that Justin got carsick, and suddenly we`re frantically searching for plastic bags, particularly plastic bags without any little holes in them. And scraps of toilet paper for him to wipe his mouth between bouts of nausea released into the same bag again and again until he definitely needed another bag…more frantic searching and more puking. Poor guy, and what a trooper! This went on for a couple hours before he says, ¨guys, I have to get off this bus…¨ So the next stop, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, we`re off the bus and Justin stumbles off the bus, puke bags in hand, looking greener than I`ve ever seen anyone, passes out on the side of the road. Just let me lay here 20 minutes, he says, then we can keep going. Doubtful, Ashleigh and I head off to the restaurant down the street in search of coffee and end up finding a posh eco-resort (note, anything with “eco” in the title here seems to relate to nothing environmental or sustainable, but moreso a synonym for expensive) where we enjoyed great coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice. An hour later, Matt and Justin make there way over to join us and how have a tasty breakfast and indulge in the very clean bathrooms with abundant toilet paper (a rarity here). Turned out to be a rather nice little pitstop for the rest of us, thanks Justin.

After that crazy bus adventure, we were lucky to end up on much tamer buses the rest of the way and arrived in Rio Dulce that evening without another hitch. We took a boat out to a sweet hostel in the mangrove swamps called Casa Perico. The whole place was on platforms and we had a nice little cabin to ourselves right on the water. Highlights of the place included the gorgeous colorful butterflies that I could have watched all day long, great food and help yourself cooler of drinks and ice cream, kayaks and swimming platform on the lake, and wonderful warm humid weather – a nice change from the cold dryness of Xela.

A couple days later, onto Livingston, via the Rio Dulce (Sweet River) through the jungle and mangroves, an island of egrets and cormorants, with the wind in our faces and smiles all around. Livingston is a cultural oddity in Guatemala as it`s the only place with Afro-Carribeans, and has a much more laid back atmosphere and great Carribean beats. Though on the coast, we still hadn`t found the turquoise blue Carribean waters and white sand beaches we all had our hopes on. Unfortunately, Guatemala was not blessed with beautiful coastline of other countries on the Carribean. So the next day we debated, for hours, whether to go to Honduras or Belize in search of paradise. Belize won out as it was only about a 3 hour boat ride away. Perfect. The only thing we didn`t plan for was that we`d arrive at Punta Gorda, a port town in Belize just 20 minutes after the last bus left the town toward Placencia, the beach town we were heading for. Punta Gorda wasn`t a very touristy town, which can be a good thing, but in this case the lodging options were limited and more than we were willing to pay for a short 12 hours before we`d leave on the 6am bus. Ashleigh and I left Matt in charge of our packs and scouted out various unsatisfactory options before a local guy with a machete on his back told us, come with him, he`d show us a good place. It actually turned out alright and we found a decent room for the four of us. Of course the guy wanted money for his services (and I thought he was just being a nice guy…) and loitered around until we finally gave him a few dollars. On the whole though, we found Belizeans to be incredibly friendly and helpful with locals greeting us wherever we walked and stopping to chat about the weather or where we`re going. We spent most of this evening with all four of us sprawled on a double bed watching CNN follow the New Hampshire primaries, finally all going to sleep a little disappointed in the days events.

Next morning we`re on the bus to Placencia, and finally we arrived in a Carribean paradise. The place was gorgous, and we settled in for five whole days of relaxing beach time. We replaced our love of Guatemalan black beans and rice with Belizean red stew beans and coconut rice, delicious. And our cokes found themselves always spiked with rum because why pay $1.75 for a coke when you can get a rum and coke for $2.00? The days went too quickly, as did our dinero, so back to Guatemala we would go.

Parting ways with Ashleigh, who was on her way up to the Yucatan, Justin, Matt, and I bused it to a little town called Flores on yet another beautiful Guatemalan lake, Lago Peten-Itza. Since the main reason folks travel to Flores is to visit the Mayan ruins of Tikal we decided to do it the tourist way and booked a sunrise tour that left at 3:30am. Which meant we were in bed by about 8:00pm…perhaps not so surprising for Matt and me. We arrived at the ruins at 4:30am and hiked in the dark about 40 minutes to a Mayan temple where we climbed up and sat above the jungle waiting for the sun to rise. As the first light started to emerge on the horizon the forest suddenly erupted in the most incredible sounds – howler monkeys! I`d never heard anything like it, such a deep and powerful howl from an actually not so big monkey. Then the forest was filled with sound as the other animals awoke and sounded their own versions of “a barberic yawp” into the morning. We spent the rest of the morning exploring the ruins and some amazing trails through the jungle, encountering toucans, spider monkeys, parrots, and a funny furry little mammal we couldn`t identify. We could have spent days there, but sadly our tour was arranged for just the morening. Oh well, back to Flores for another day revolving around eating and wandering.

Finally, the following day Matt and I loaded onto an overnight bus to Guatemala city followed by a few hour wait and another five hour ride to Xela. Exhausted, we made it back to our lovely little apartment in Xela, home sweet home. Speaking of home, looks like we may be making our way back to our respective regions in March…that is to say, we`re running out of money. It`ll be so good to see you all again! abrazos y besos, E & M

Catching Up On the Times

While you were all loving the nostalgia-laced Christmas anticipation, we were feeling very far away from it all… Kayaking Lago Atitlan, swimming its clear waters, howling at the full moon.

On Christmas Eve, I got shot by a fire cracker.

We were enjoying a relaxing evening at the home of my spanish teacher when some of her more roudy relatives arrived. I believe it was her seven year old nephew who lit the box of rockets in the courtyard. Most went up, but one flew through the door I was standing in, shot through my shirt, burned the undershirt and left a smoke-stain on my guitar. And nothing more. I was fine. Left with a ripped shirt and an interesting story.

We miss you all teribbly, but are happy none-the-less. Spent the day at the hotsprings yesterday. Hot. But not quite as hot as the chance to spend time with you all.

Keep us posted on your lives! And send a cheers out to our Friends Bryan and Mary Clare Lindsley, who are celebrating the birth of their first child, Elliot Andrew Lindsley, born Christmas morning!

(Much more exciting than hotsprings).  Love, M. & E.

Lago Atitlan

“Lake Como, it seems to me, touches on the limit of permissibly picturesque, but Atitlán is Como with additional embellishments of several immense volcanoes. It really is too much of a good thing.” -Aldous Huxley

Too much of a good thing? Sometimes our whole trip feels too much of a good thing! This last weekend adventure was no exception. We arrived in Panajachel just as the sun was setting and enjoyed fried fish (meaning the whole fish, head and all, fried in it´s entirety) rice, veggies, and cold cervesa at a cafe overlooking the lake. There is something about that time of day when the light gradually changes and the sky lights up in all shades and hues of color and the distant volcanos fill with shadows and suddenly the winking lights of small towns around the lake are visible…oh so romantic! I´m sure Matt has a poem brewing that will do it better justice. As does the above photo, the lake really does exude something magical.

Panajatchel market is another splendor of color with the myriad textiles, clothing, bags, scarfs, and trinkets. We wandered the market for most of Saturday with a couple pauses for food and staring out at the lake. I bought a scarf from a young Mayan girl who told me her mother says she has to earn some money to help pay for school…I´m sure they all have a story such as this, but how can you say no to that. And she was sweet, gently putting a scarf around my neck and telling me that it looked nice. In contrast, I found myself frustrated with some of the agressive vendors, following us down the street, begging us to buy their goods, and yet it´s survival, you can´t blame that sense of desperation to make a sale.

Getting home on Sunday was a typical ¨chicken bus¨adventure. We´d hoped to catch a direct bus back to Xela, but there wasn´t one leaving until afternoon. So we took the suggestion of the bus driver to take his bus to Las Encuentras where we´d catch another to Xela, sounded simple enough. Three buses and five and a half hours later, lots of dusty stops at road contruction, after taking the one wrong bus and having to backtrack, finally catching the microbus to parque central, we made it home. Remember school buses as a kid? Try sitting in one with adult size legs, packed three to a seat going around insane curves and unpaved roads for hours while needing to pee — it´s a good excercise in transcending discomfort.

Delightful as it all sounds, we are still missing home. The snow in Minnesota sounds lovely. Send us some snowy stories and pictures if you get a chance. We always love commentary on our blog as well! Un abrazo fuerte desde Guate, E & M.