Antigua with the Team

As part of the routine, the team gets to visit Antigua, the nation’s first capital. It is a beautiful city about 45 minutes from Guatemala City. After morning prayers and a delicious breakfast of bacon (special treat), we met Jorge and a few of the girls at the Hogar van. I sat next to Maria Cielo and her, missionary AmandaEve and I talked about musical instruments and future aspirations. (Maria Cielo wants to be a doctor! Good for her.) It was a nice time. I have to say that I am so blessed not have that language barrier anymore. I have had so many intellectual conversations with the girls, and other people at the hogar.

Per usual, the first destination was the Jade factory. Before we even entered the factory, the group was exposed to Jorge’s professional Guatemalan parallel parking (both my dad last year and Father John call Jorge Andretti). The spot was certainly not meant for a 15 passenger van, but with a little local help (a man picked up a stranger’s motorcycle), and a few taps on the curve, we’re in! The picture does not do the experience any justice.

The team learned that Jade is not only from China but also on the fault line here in Guatemala as well. They learned that according to the Mayan calendar, the world will not come to an end in 2012. After purchases of bracelets and Orthodox crosses (especially made after so many teams have visited the factory), we headed to the park.

There was a book fair going on. I had been looking for El Principito for a while now, and I finally found it at a little stand. I did not have any change, and was reluctant to break a 20 for a $3 book. Gina, one of the missionaries gave me $2 and told be to try to bargain the book down. The vender was not breaking, so this nice boy, I think about 17, gave the man 8 quetzales out of nowhere! Glory to God, there are good people everywhere. He and an Australian companion (I never caught either of their names) were in Antigua for an intensive Spanish course. They had been here for four days and had told me that they were mentally exhausted. We talked for a little bit, and I told them the best way to improve is to come to places like this park and talk with locals. When you immerse yourself in the culture, you are forced to speak the language. After I thanked the boy profusely, we parted and Gina and I reunited with the group. We stopped at a church called San Francisco which famous because Saint Pedro is buried there. San Pedro is the only saint from Guatemala. He cared for the poor of Guatemala City. There is an icon of him in the church vestibule here at the Hogar but it is not IN the church, because he was not Orthodox. When we visited the tomb, several people were speaking native languages to the holy brother, and offering him candles and prayer.

We then headed to lunch at a rustic Italian restaurant, where we were reunited with Madre and a few of the girls. The missionaries were very content with “real food” as they called it of pasta and garlic bread. I had pesto myself, but brought some of the Latino culture into it with horchata, a sweet rice milk beverage. Madre led a question answer session where the missionaries were free to ask anything about the structure or what have you at the hogar or monastery. After lunch, Father was delighted to treat everyone to ice cream. Including specialty sundaes, banana splits, and 3 layer cones dipped in chocolate, the bill came to be less than $22 for 14! Tell me when that would happen in the states.

We then departed for the private market. We spent about an hour bargaining and getting ripped off. Everyone left with bags, candy, and other little knickknacks. We then went to this swiss chocolate factory for the team to buy gifts for the staff. I had a few dark chocolate truffles and forgot I was in a third world country. Sometimes, different businesses here make you disregard the poverty outside.

The team leaves tomorrow. It will be weird after not being in the office for over a week, eating alone, and the children going back to their routine chores. May God bless their journey home.