Pause for Reflection

Michael and I's journey officially ended last Friday. We waited on our familiar street corner, where for the last two weeks we stood in our green volunteer shirts to head to work in Guatemala City. Now the street, still strangely familiar under our feet, was empty. Antigua was quiet. Gone were the chicken buses, packed full of Guatemalans, the ayudante leaning out the open door, selling space that didn't exist. Gone were the street vendors, young girls in colorful woven dresses, petit, young hands, but old eyes, years of life hidden in the depths of their murky, dark irises. We stood alone, quiet in our own nostalgic thoughts, waiting for the airport shuttle. We left each other much the same way, walking down separate tarmacs, Michael back to the U.S., myself to Costa Rica for ten days of traveling. Climbing into my airplane seat, I felt a little uncomfortable jumping across three countries to my destination. So many thousands of miles we were on the road, moving through landscapes that changed as we did. I have just now been able to sit and write this last chapter. As if writing it down would close the book, leather tassles wrapping themselves around the cover, sealing the stories as memories, something to uncover years later in a shoebox in an attic, a timecapsule, a forgotten past.

This past week I have been formulating these thoughts into words, cruising through tropical roads on a scooter, acutely aware of myself, my feelings, the sun on my arms as I turned the throttle with a light flick of my wrists, the countryside passing by me unframed by windows, unburdened by air conditioning and music. My mind would linger on little moments. Conversing naturally in Spanish with David, alone in the warehouse, 90's music blaring, counting 50 toothbrushes at a time for hours, laughing at insignificant things, working through our own thoughts alone, but somewhat together.

The stunning beauty of a beach brings me back to my scooter. A rocky peninsula, with searing cliffs, brimming with trees, a deep full green that contrasts with the emerald water of the cove. Moving back into the vegetation, the speed a of my vehicle transforms the greenery into a colorful tunnel. A portal back into my memories. I see Soyver's eyes... Alive with creativity. Affectionate. Excitement. He was not even one of my students from the film class I briefly taught, where the kids, interested, but detached, cared more about impressing one another than learning the lesson. Soyver came behind me and touched my shoulder as I prepared for the lesson with my camera, fascinated in my every movement, sitting with me as I edited some footage. Sitting with me later as I checked an email, a mundane task that somehow he found mesmerizing. Finally gathering the courage to make a request, he quietly asks if we can make a movie. Smiling, I nod, and we recruit his cousin Roberto and walk to the garden. Lost in a childlike reverie, pulsing with imagination, I directed them through a wild plotline, all of us eagerly moving through the story, fluidly. I was affirmed in my passion for filmmaking. Children are our best critics. What is alive inside all of us, they sense and hold onto with zealous fervor. We rushed over to the shade and replayed our movie, giggling at the little images of ourselves that unfolded on my tiny viewfinder.

There. A pelican sweeps into view. I slow my bike to watch as it magestically soars towards the water with purpose, to some hidden destination just beneath the blue expanse of the sea. It's slender neck and beak poised like a dancer in all of her grace.

The night before leaving Guatemala, Michael and I shaved our travel beards, tufts of hair falling to the floor. Somehow, facial hair had become part of our identity on this journey. They connected us together and to those we saw as companions. I remember the moment I gazed into the mirror with such clarity. I remember the face looking back at me. A stranger. I want to ask this vision before me what is behind those eyes that eludes me? What have they seen? What does this man have to say? Who has he become? His expression creased into a grin, joining the reflection to my own. The bathroom light flickered off, enveloping the room into the warmth of darkness.

Camino Seguro

Like the first day of school, Michael and I left our homestay especially early to meet the Camino Seguro bus to Guatemala City. Lunchbags in hand, we waited by the bus stop eager to begin work. We took unassuming seats behind the wheelwell, you know, not too close to the front to signify seniority, not too close to the back to impose on the "bad" kids. Upon arrival, after some grueling traffic, we navigated our way to the kitchen to begin work with Isabel "el jefe". Immediately I was set to work by cutting the fat off of about 50 halves of chickens as Isabel would butcher the halves into tiny pieces. I desperately tried to keep up with her frantic pace, sometimes resorting to ripping the fat off with my hands. All the chopped meat, fresh vegetables, and spices were added to a gigantic pot to make pepian, a local Guatemalan dish, in order to feed over 500 children during the course of the day. It was certainly gratifying as the children would pop their heads through the serving window, to hand them what could potentially be their only meal of the day. The next portion of the afternoon was spent observing volunteers in the classroom. Michael and I have been charged with the responsibility of helping develop a new training module for new volunteers at Camino Seguro. We will also be leading weekly team building excercises for the volunteers and staff. After taking notes, walking a young boy to the bathroom, helping a young girl with a counting excercise, and marveling at just what the term "rainy season" in Guatemala truly means, I made my way back to the kitchen to help where needed. Mopping floors, scrubbing mountainous cauldrons of their leftover stew, and racing Michael to see who could dice the most carrots (which I clearly won), I paused to reflect on the day. There are many pieces to what enables an organization to effect change. I would normally be the guy to gravitate towards the direct interaction with the children. Yet this opportunity has provided me with the understanding that value and importance, like a glacier, go far deeper than the surface. The bus ride home was warm with conversation, a far cry from the silence of the early morning trip. Michael slept the entire way, then crawled into bed at 6 PM and has yet to awaken as I sit here journaling the day's events. The trip appears to be taking its toll on him! So as not to disturb him, I walked down to the living room to sit with the family. Amparo (the matriarch), sat facing the television, knees touching the screen engaged in her telenovella. Jennifer sat on the couch, doodling romantic musings to her boyfriend Jorge with a freshly shaved red pencil. Oscar, jumped around the room, speaking in a foreign animal tongue, spinning his chinese star around the room, arm shrouded in his Superman wristband. Ingrid sat in the lazy chair watching her two children with one eye and coloring her son's homework with the other half of her attention. Lily sat upright in her own couch, legs sprawled over the armrest, sipping juice, entranced with the soap actor's dreamy eyes and wavy hair. I sat somewhere in the middle, lightly picking at a guitar and marvelling in the peacefulness of this moment. Bliss...

A little update...
Day 3 at Camino Seguro. I have now pretended to lose a finger in a vegetable blender to entertain some kids and scare the living daylights out of Isabel. Tomorrow, I have secured some fake blood to escalate things a bit in the kitchen games. Michael and I have also been helping count the inventory in the Camino Seguro warehouse. I have counted 4400 rubber bands, 2632 paper clips, 845 rulers, 3054 pencils, and 2228 erasers. Tomorrow? Making ourselves available to help wherever needed will always provide exciting and unexpected opportunities. It is the Full Hearts' way of doing things.

gregorio

Antigua

Nestled between 3 massive volcanoes lies an idyllic Guatemalan city called Antigua. Amidst ruins from ancient earthquakes have sprouted beautiful colored buildings. Connected, as if forming a tapestry of finely woven fabric. Michael and I have settled into this town for the next week to work with camino seguro, or safe passage in English (safepassage.org). This organization was founded to provide dignity and opportunities through education for the children living and working in the Guatemala City Garbage Dump. This organization has been in operation for about 15 years. It is amazing to see what they have accomplished. Today was orientation. We visited the educational reinforcement centers that they have set up around the dump. Beautiful beacons of light amidst some of the most impoverished areas I have ever seen. 60% of Guatemalans live on less than $.50 US a day. The 3000 plus people who recycle the trash that comes off the dump trucks are the poorest of them all. I was speechless as we watched these workers sift through the trash from a safe peak above this crater of desolation and hopelessness. Michael and I left in silence. Committed to whatever project Camino Seguro requires from us. Committed to working so that no child will ever have to stand in that pit, closer to hell than any other human, as carrion birds swarm overhead, trying to distinguish between human flesh and the stench of trash. Check our updated flickr page. You will know what I am talking about.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/26885096@N07/

gregorio

Conversations

Fernando: It's all a jungle out there man. The industry, the factories, the buildings, this beach, this forrest. I just choose the beach as my jungle.

Me: So where did you learn to speak English?
Alejandro: In Texas. I was in Prison.
Me: Really... Wow... What did they get you for?
Alejandro: I was working the construction and didn't have papers.
Me: They locked you up for that?
Alejandro: 74 months
Me: That's just... wrong.
Alejandro: I couldn't see my family or nothing.
Me: But now we are here. And we got to sit on this pier and stare into the dark see, and look at these stars... together... as friends. And now I know your story. I'm gonna remember this story.
Alejandro: If you ever need anything in this city... you call Alejandro. Friends have to look out for eachother.

Me: How long have you been traveling?
D: 9 months... In Taiwan, this is a long time to be away.
Me: Buddy... It's a long time to be away from anywhere.
D: I leave to escape my sadness. My best friend die so I begin traveling.
Me: How are you now?
D: Traveling can heal. Things will be okay

Me: What kind of bird is this?
Sergio: It's a baby. Notice its wings. It is just beginning to test them.
Me: It's learning to fly.
Sergio: Yes my brotha!
Me: If you don't mind my asking... What does your tattoo mean?
Sergio: Only the wings of a feather can carry the heart.

Me: Let's write what we are feeling right now and send it out to sea.
Erin: I'll throw it.
Me: Can I read what you wrote?
Erin: It's not meant for us to see. This message is intended for the one who needs it most.

Rob: You gotta come with me right now.
Me: Okay
Rob: Have you ever seen stars like this in your life?
Me: .....
Rob: Let's find a place to lay down.
Me: It's like I can touch them. Do you ever wonder what they would look like from space?
Rob: No man. I'd rather sit right here and wonder. Cause nothing can compare to what I am imagining right now.
Me: Did you see that shooting star?
Rob: Yeah
Me: Why does it always surprise you when they race across the sky?
Rob: Because it is always beautiful

gregorio

Veracruz

Once again, I am amazed by the kind people of Caritas. I have been sitting on this bus headed for Belize for the last few hours, attempting to illustrate why I feel so connected to the Mexican culture when I am working. I had been wrestling with this thought internally for some time until finally frustrated, I peered out the window into the green rolling countryside of Southern Mexico. I found my answer in the migrant worker, cutting down sugar cane with his rusty machete. I found it in the road worker, rubber soles melting over the hot tar. I found it in the street vendor, slaving over the hot stove. I found it in the young man in the wheelchair with a barrel full of watermelons and a steely resolve. People work here. They work hard. They value it with a sense of integrity I've seen nowhere else. If you want to earn the trust of the Mexican people don't come riding into town in gleaming white vans, pitching a tent and serving bananas and pepperoni pizza. This will be appreciated but it is only charity.

I am certain that the bond created from sweat, from hands and arms working together, no matter the color, is as strong as blood. We worked hard. For five hours we tore down walls, moved 100 lb. bags of sugar, moved shelving units up narrow shaky stairwells, and cleared out rooms to improve the efficiency of their donation process We had our fun too. Priceless moments such as playing basketball with my good friend Luis with packets of tampons (yes I know) and toilet paper wars with Travis and Michael and more tampons (yes I know). We broke bread and shared meals with the staff.

As we wrapped up our work, the Deacon of the Caritas in Veracruz, a kind and noble man whom I have a great deal of respect for, offered to take us to a remote beach outside of town while he took care of some work. So we hopped into his small white Toyota with his white rosary swinging back and forth from its perch on the rearview mirror. We traveled past giant sand dunes and shopping malls, small riverside villages and Land Rover dealerships until we pulled off a sandy road into the driveway of a quaint Catholic church. Turning to face us, smiling behind his glasses with warm eyes, Francisco told us that if we took a right and then headed straight we would reach the beach. He then told us if we walked along the beach we could find many restaurants and stores as this was a fishing village. We only went straight... Covered in grime and blood and dirt, we walked straight until we walked into the glimmering water of the shoreline. We kept walking as the sandy shallows extended out into the distance where dark tanned boys dove for clams and fishermen tested the shallows for a day's wage. Throwing live sand dollars like frizbees which we found at the sandy bottom in abundance, we rejoiced in the ageless fun, the madness of such a rare experience, laughing at the hotels in the hazy distance.

As Travis, Michael, and I scattered to our own private plot of water, I dipped my head beneath the surface to escape the crashing surf, and the laughing children, the distant mopeds and buses. I hung submerged and suspended, drifting towards the shore not by my movements, but as each gentle wave turned I would inch a little closer, toes lightly anchored in the sand. Somehow I had even escaped the noise inside my head, my body laid to rest at a quiet point of the beach.

Check out some photos of the trip at http://www.flickr.com/photos/26885096@N07/

gregorio

Quick update

We have connected with Caritas in Veracruz and will be working tomorrow separating clothing donations as well as potentially visiting an orphanage and an elderly home. It has been many miles since our last service project and we are anxious to begin working again. Hasta Mañana.

gregorio

Veracruz

What makes a beach beautiful? Is it pristine sands or crystal clear water? Coral reefs and tropical fish? Yes, I do believe so. However, as I am sitting here, trying to frame my experience of Veracruz over the last 24 hours, I struggle to find words that will do it justice. I would not use any of the terms that typically describe the picturesque beauty of a Carribean resort.. I feel something more. It is a sense of peace that begins at my feet, now connected to the sand just below the water. My feet appear magnified. Ever so often a single piece of seaweed languidly moves over my toes. Back and forth. Ebb and flow. I know where I am. I know I am 'here'. I have never felt more 'here' in my entire life, firmly rooted in the sand. the seaweed crossed my foot again and we both realized that it was not time to go yet. We would leave in our own direction.. on our own time.

Let me take a step back...
Fresh off of 15 hours on a bus, we were eager to set our eyes on the sea. Dropping our backpacks at the hotel, we briskly walked the 9 blocks to the nearest beach. Sandals off, we dashed forward until we delicately dipped our feet into the water, as one would savor the last bite of pie. Curious to see more of the beach, we walked the length until an affable young boatman approached us trying to sell a snorkeling trip. Enter Fernando. Beach Bum. Not a care in the world other than meeting new people and having a good time. We explained that we were hungry and pointed at the myriad of beachside restaurants that covered the beach behind us. Fernando's wide smile momentarily lapsed into a frown, stating that these restaurants ruined his beach. He then asked us if we wanted to see a natural beach. Up for another new experience we shrugged and set off to a hail a cab for... Playa del Norte.

This is the point where my mom probably would have said "Don't do it", and a scary movie plotline would lead the naive tourists to a dark alleyway. However, after a few miles we turned down a dirt road which opened onto a mesmerizing, expansive beach. The cab drove us further down the beach until tiny colorful dots became large beachside tents (restaurants). We chose one that was surrounded by hammocks, for obvious reasons. Setting down our things to feast on fresh seafood, we watched as the sun gathered all the colors of the sky to deliver a breathtaking sunset. After a tiresome game of futbol with the locals (playing in the sand is not easy), we moved our table down to the surf to eat our meal. We threw together a makeshif fire and sat in appreciative conversation for the next few hours. I finally turned towards the ocean to cool off my legs, yet my eyes immediately were attracted to the silver reflection in the water. Following it up to its origin I witnessed a full moon of insurpassable beauty. Reaching my hands up to the sky I tried to sum up my feelings that appeared so raw, coursing through me in this moment. I couldn't help but note the timing of a phrase I gleaned from the pages of my latest read, "The perks of being a Wallflower". The main character, Charlie, is trying to describe a particularly fulfilling moment as it is actually transpiring...

I feel infinite.
Yes. Infinite.

gregorio

San Luis Potosi to Poza Rica

After a restless night's sleep through some wild mountain passes, I awoke to a strange new countryside. Gone were the cacti forrests and sparse plains. In its place was a lush green countryside. I had my first glimpse of the sea as the sun rose over Tampico. It spoke to me from the distance. I am romantically drawn to the sea. A love affair. Captivation. Weaving back into the forrest, this lover's reunion must wait until I dip my feet in the silky shallows of Veracruz' beaches.

Hours later...
We passed by an old automobile junkyard. It was truly a unique site to behold. Before me was a massive mountain of cars. Yet the rich tropical soil provided its fruits in earnest, reflected by the massive trees that had grown through the cars. As if all fibers, both natural and man-made, had blended into an organic organism. Upon a closer look, like the rungs in a great oak tree, each level of cars wove itself together into a story of its period, like an open book revealing its secrets.

gregorio

San Luis Potosi

Well nothing much happened today. Time was spent recuperating and walking through the city. We were able to catch up with Madre Lulu, one of the Madres from Casa Hogar who is on a new assignment (a great guitar player I might add too). It was wonderful to hear what she was up to and she was able to provide a contact and place to stay and work at a Casa Hogar in the next stop, San Miguel de Allende.

However this was also a time for an important re-evaluation for Michael and I on our journey. Realizing that six days had passed and we had to reach Guatemala soon, we made the decision to continue on separate from the bus. This was an incredibly difficult decision, but one that we felt needed to be made so that we could continue to do Full Hearts work on our journey, as the bus could do Full Hearts work on their time. So, after many goodbyes, we grabbed our backpacks and headed towards the bus station. Not sure what city is next for us. But we will continue to chronicle our experiences through this blog as the others chronicle their own. Please keep reading about the miracles, relationships, and discoveries along the way.

Gregorio

Saltillo to San Luis Potosi

We are in the middle of nowhere at a restaurant. It has a Carta Blanca sign out front and is partially painted yellow. If you walk out to the highway, you will see 10 more restaurants that look exactly the same, painting the highway into the horizon. I am sitting at the end of the table watching Travis, Jon, Kelly, and Daniel feast on chicken. I am hungry. I know that I have a wallet full of cash sitting next to me in my backpack. The interesting thing is, is that I have never experienced this. I can´t really recall a moment where I have sat hungry and did not indulge. this only the second day of the fast and I already know that this will be a challenge.

A few hours later...
All along the highway there are horses and goats and cows chained individually to a stake in the median of the highway. A cheap way to keep the grass cut low. We passed by a dead horse a few miles back. Imagine a life chained in one place, watching life travel past you 60 miles an hour in each direction. Wondering what it would be like to be in the driver´s seat. There have been times when I have felt stuck. I have realized though that we hold the keys to our own chains. There are certain institutions that see it in their best interests to keep us tied down. To keep their grass cut low.

A few more hours later...
I was sitting at the front of the bus and Jon and I were discussing the future, or more so, lack thereof, when suddenly something didn´t sound right in the engine. We pulled off to the side of the road at a Buenos Aires fried chicken restaurant that had KFC and Chicken Express advertisements, yet for some reason, I don´t think that it was a part of either chain. Sensing an opportunity to take a much needed bathroom break I walked to the front door and was disheartened to discover that this baño was for customers only. I reached into my pocket and felt my 5 pesos before asking the cashier how much a piece of chicken would be. They gave me an odd look before responding "9 pesos". Looking at the change in my hand, I turned and walked back out to the bus, all the while thinking of bathroom 'alternatives'. As I got back to the Cortez, one of the men from inside approached me and asked what we were doing. After talking about the trip and introducing everyone, I relayed my story of needing to use the restroom but not having enough money to buy anything. He reached into his pocket and was about to give me what few pesos he had so that I could buy a piece of chicken. I quickly refused him, saying that I only needed to use the restroom, which he then responded to by walking me inside the restaurant. I pointed at the sign that said "customers only" and he smiled saying that he knew the owners. After relieving myself, we ended up spending the next half hour learning about each other. As a sign of our friendship, I gave him a bumper sticker to sign and a Full Hearts wristband. As we were saying goodbye, he looked to me and said "You know... it is looking like rain, I would be honored if you and your friends would stay the night at my house." Knowing that we needed to move on, I respectfully declined, but was nevertheless deeply moved. This is Pedro. Silver Capped teeth. Great Smile. A good man. A conversation and friendship taht wouldn´t have happened if I had just walked in and casually dropped a few dollars to use the bathroom.

Gregorio

Saltillo

Desperate to find a place to rest our heads, we pulled off the highway, drawn into it by the large sign that said "jacuzzi". For $50.00 a night Jon, Kelly, and Daniel were able to stay in an opulent suite, while the rest of us on a vow to remain faithful to our pact slept out in the bus.

Morning came, and Daniel popped his head into the bus with a proposition to climb the mountain that backed up to our hotel. It is amazing what the morning light reveals around you. I rolled up my sleeping bag and then opened the back door to brush my teeth. I am sure it was a sight to see. Here was this Gringo with a full red beard(I can´t explain why I have dirty blonde hair and a red beard)standing out of the back door of the bus in his underwear (his only pair) brushing his teeth in the parking lot of a fancy highway hotel in a 1974 Cortez Bus. I wonder what went through the heads of the staff at the hotel.

Daniel, Alex, Travis, Michael, Kelly and I began our hike to the top of a nearby mountain (hill, but I add this for dramatic effect). A few deep cacti needles in our legs, and a satisfying sweat later, we made it to the top. The view that awaited us was nothing short of spectacular. The city of Saltillo unfolded below us surounded by mountains. A piece of rock extended out into the expanse of the morning air. Travis quickly stepped out onto the ledge and entered into his own quiet, reverent, rapture. Deciding to find my own quiet perch, I set off around to the other side of the mountain. I was rewarded for my patience with an equally magnificent view, but one that contrasted the other side. Down below in the foothills of the mountains was a community of families living in obvious, extreme poverty. Here I was, witnessing them go about their daily lives from the clouds. Which is how I think most of us experience poverty. Distant. Disconnected... I was sitting on a mountain that separated the industrialized from the poor. What if we could move those mountains? What would a world look like without barriers separating us from connecting and sharing. Loving and living. Together.

Gregorio

Monterrey to Saltillo

So after Alex, Michael, and I made a pact to fast off of $.50 US dollars a day we learned that the neighborhood we were delivering goods to was actually the Tamale capital of the world. We were devastated that we could not wind back time and make our pact after dinner. Yet, we decided to put all of our money together, $1.50, and was the lady what we could buy. It turns out that we could buy 5 tamales (with a sixth for free). Oh boy, we relished our tamales, cutting them into little pieces to make it look like more food. Yet we were still a little hungry. I was just through concocting a plan to persuade the kind ladies to donate some more tamales when one of the women came by and dropped two gigantic tamales in front of our eyes. Try and explain that...

Leaving for Saltillo in the bus, I stole a short moment to peak my head out of the window to say goodbye to the city that had been so good to us today. Looking across to the hills in the distance I watched as distant lights danced across silhouettes of hilltops like moving breathing lanterns in the still evening air. Upon leaving this city I am content from a good days work but eagerly anticipating the next step of the journey. It is hard to stay present when there is so much ahead of us. So many miles, opportunities, and challenges lie before us. Each with their own purpose, fulfillment, and revealing wisdom. I can only hope that I am able to take a moment and reflect, to be still, and to allow the full weight of this experience set in.

Gregorio

Monterrey

I am soaked in fruit juice, tired, sweaty, but probably the most fulfilled I have been in a long time. I am so amazed by fate. If there hadn't been problems with the bus, Michael and I would not have gotten on in Nuevo Laredo. We would have not gone ahead to Hotel 402 in Monterrey and we could not have met the hotel staff who got us the contact for Caritas. Caritas is an organization that has food banks, orphanages, etc. throughout Mexico. Today we worked at the food bank for Caritas here in Monterrey. From 6 Am to 4 PM, the Caritas Food Bank fills trucks with leftover food from grocery stores which they then take to the poorest neighborhoods in Monterrey and distribute for 1 peso a family. We saw a small glimpse of this massive operation and loaded 5 trucks with tons of vegetables and fruit. It was tough work. However, we made instant friends sweating with the workers. After we finished, they heard that a few of us were going to try and live on 5 pesos a day ($.50 in US dollars) until we reached Veracruz (more on this later). They were amazed and proceeded to give us a crate of peaches, a crate of plums, and a crate of jicema (a mexican vegetable), four gallons and four cases of water for our fast. Michael, Alex, and I had made a pact to only eat excess of 5 pesos a day if food was worked for or given to us. This was done in an attempt to try and experience a lifestyle away from instant gratification and self indulgence that I know has characterized much of my life.

We now have contacts with Caritas throughout Mexico for the rest of our journey to serve with. We have permanent relationships in Monterrey to send volunteers and to begin multiple projects in the near future. I can honestly say that we were doing Full Hearts work, or whatever you want to call it. Amazing. A woman told me in Nuevo Laredo that you would need at least a month to plan ahead before working and volunteering in these cities. She was wrong. When you simply seek to help others, opportunities will present themselves in the most uncanny and magnificent ways.

There is no such thing as a small miracle... only miracles.

gregorio

Freedom

Freedom... To be free. In the land of opportunity, this is still an entirely rare and unique feeling to experience. It exists. This is not disputable. However, it is usually an idea tossed around in history classes, or to justify our postion on matters of foreign policy. When is it real though? When is it more than just ideology and nationalism? I don´t believe that you can seek freedom. It is in the 'not' doing where freedom is a colorful frescoe painting within grasp. I have now affirmed that nothing can prevent you from experiencing this Earth on your own time, on your own schedule. The act of deliberately 'not' planning reveals my true path to me more clearly than I have ever witnessed before. Freedom is the act of walking this Earth in every which direction. Unguarded and Unburdened. This is Freedom.

gregorio

Mexico to Belize

And so it begins... After two weeks of preparation without time to stop or think or breathe we are off. We can now focus on the enormous task at hand, driving our 1974 Cortez bus the entire length of Mexico to Belize.

To provide a few introductions, my name is Greg, a little over one year ago I started a little non-profit with a group of friends to attempt to do something about the overwhelming poverty and neglect among children in Nuevo Laredo. One year later, we are curious to see where else we can involve ourselves to be agents of positive change. I will be joined by 6 of my closest friends, Michael, Kelly, Daniel, Alex, Travis, and Jon (who you have already read about on here). You will hear about their experiences and perspectives as this trip progresses.

The bus is actually on its way to meet Michael and I in Nuevo Laredo (little car trouble in San Antonio). Michael and I will be catching a bus to Veracruz. Michael and I have a much longer journey planned to continue south from Belize to Costa Rica doing more Full Hearts work..

And so it begins... We could not have gotten here without your generous support. So please keep up with our crazy adventures on this blog.

With a full heart,
gregorio

Day 25 and 26

I missed quite a few days of updates due to the internet being down. After inquiring about the problem, I found out that I´m really lucky it worked as long as it did uninterrupted. Apparently it goes down very frequently. It has me a little nervous now because I have a scholarship application due tomorrow that is absolutely critical.

I don´t remember much about yesterday other than it may have been the hardest day of work I have ever had. It was the day for the concrete. After a weekend of frustration trying to find wood to frame for the concrete, I had to wait until Monday morning. I woke up early and went searching for a decent deal, only to end up settling for what I think was entirely too much. I know the lumber cost here is high, but it was absurd. Upon returning I had one hour before the concrete truck was to arrive. I was hoping that this time the Mexican culture of being late would work for me. Of course though, they showed up early when I had half of the framing done. To make matters worse, the concrete truck could not pass through the gate. Picture this - concrete truck parked at the gate, me rushing trying to get the floor framed with subpar wood that was cracking and splitting, and being told that we would need to haul the cement in by wheelbarrow. The gazebo is about 80 yards (not a short distance over rough terrain) and the wheelbarrow was less than quality.

Feeling quite frustrated and helpless, my brain went to racing trying to figure something out. I stopped to think and heard a tractor in the distance. I figured the tractor must have a big bucket on the front and it could make it through the gate. I was desperate and took off running to chat with the hombres operating the tractor. After running through mud and receiving looks from Madre Heno that were saying I was crazy, I found two guys taking a break in the shade. There was hope - the tractor would work perfect for what we needed. Now I just needed to use my broken Spanish to ask these guys for the favor. I can only imagine they were a little perplexed having a gringo trying to speak Spanish and asking them to use their tractor to haul concrete. But, it worked. They agreed and I paid them each 20 bucks for their time. They even helped shovel the concrete once it was down.

But once it was down the real work started. I am thankful we didn´t have to wheelbarrow it in - I might be dead right now. After trying this method and that method to get the concrete smoothed and in place, Ephrian showed up and lent us his wisdom. It still took hours of incredibly hard work to get that concrete right - turns out we needed more. I thought, no big deal, we´ll go get bags and mix em up and throw em in. Not true.

Here in Mexico they don´t have ready mix concrete. They have rocks, and they have concrete mix. The method for mixing is to spread the rocks on the ground, pour the mix over the top, mix it all together with the shovel, spray sections down with the water hose, mix it all again, and again, then shovel into the wheelbarrow, then pour, then spread, then level. Over, and over, and over again.

I have blisters that I´m sure will never go away. I have aches and pains that will be with me for weeks to come. After another trip for more, more mixing blah blah blah, we were done. I could barely stand in the shower and had no trouble falling asleep.

That was yesterday.

Today I woke up early for Erika, Paola, and Karina (three sisters) Christening. I believe that´s what its called - its the Catholic version of Baptism. It was definitely an interesting experience. After the long walk back and a bowl of cereal, I was out again. I slept until 2, got up for lunch, and layed back down again. The only thing I did today was take Marisol to her doctor appointments and put up 4 boards on the gazebo before dark.

Tomorrow I should get really far on the gazebo. Now that the concrete is done everything else is a downhill battle. After hearing story after story from Ephrian about worse situations for building than what we had, I´m actually quite thankful for the experience yesterday. When the project is complete, I will definitely look back and remember the blood, sweat, and tears it took to get the thing constructed. I definitely have a newfound respect for the tools we enjoy in the US. Working without them in an environment that necessitates them even more made me realize how lucky we are to have access to a Home Depot pretty much anytime we need it.

I´m off to take care of my wounds and get some more rest before a long day in the sun. If anyone is free this weekend and wants to do a little work....

Day 22

Today was again very frustrating as far as the construction end goes. Although I am confident things will be rolling tomorrow, I have a hard time understanding why they couldn´t today. As the end of the trip is nearing, I am beginning to get nervous that this project will be unfinished when we leave.

All of the plans have been set and promises have been made to me at this point. The concrete should be poured tomorrow and I should be receiving all the tools I need. Peggy is coming into town tomorrow and I´m going to make sure she gets the point across that I am feeling a little bit of pressure about time at this point.

I spent some more time cruising the city with Ephrian and some nap time on the trampoline. I watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith with all the girls and then relaxed and listened to my MP3 player while detailing my car. Today felt more like vacation than a humanitarian aid trip. Oh well, a week of long days awaits.

More and more I am becoming very accustomed to life here. After only 3 weeks this really is beginning to feel like home. It´s going to be somewhat of a culture shock when I return to the hustle of school and friends. In a way I´m looking forward to it, but in a big way I´m not looking forward to having to leave.

Anyone ever heard of ketchup on pizza? Ya, me neither.

Day 21

Day 21, three weeks. It absolutely does not seem like I have been here that long. On the other hand, its hard to imagine I haven´t been here longer.

Today was rather eventless. I have more or less assimilated into everyday life while waiting on the concrete to be poured. I run errands with Ephrian, help with chores, and play at playtime. I feel like I´m just another resident now.

We did finish everything we can do with the gazebo in preparation for the foundation. The posts are up and now its obvious just how big this thing is going to be. The concrete quote was quite a bit more than expected but it´s do-able. I´m excited about the next step being completed. The frustration has been mounting trying to get this part done. The language barrier and the culture of ¨mañana¨ is starting to wear on my patience.

On the bright side, it gives me a lot of free time to explore the city and more time to get closer to the girls. I feel like I could get just about anywhere in Nuevo Laredo that I needed to go. I´m even quite certain people are starting to recognize me as the American in town.

Hopefully tomorrow will bring progress...

Day 20

I woke up this morning somewhat late but got the much needed rest I was lacking. I feel a hundred times better and am quite sure I have kicked the sickness.

It rained hard and almost all day so no work was accomplished. Other than running around town with Ephrian to do errands and some cleaning, most of my time was spent playing cards or chatting with the Madres. Fun did commence once the sun set.

I got the go ahead from the Madres for the fireworks. It was so much fun I can´t even explain it. I had hoped I had Peggy´s video camera but I think I left it in her truck this past weekend. Its the only way the story could be told. All the girls had a blast and it was no different for me. It really made me think about when I was a kid and out at the lake doing fireworks. Just seeing their eyes light up when something happened that wasn´t expected or when someone got a little too close - priceless fun.

Afterwards the older girls stayed up and a water balloon war broke out. It lasted some time and I´m not too sure Madre Heno was happy about it. The girls were - they had a blast. Tomorrow should be a blast picking all the trash up from the night.

Now its showers and bedtime. Very simple day for sure, but I think it was needed. I hope the rain will stop and give us some time to work. It´s starting to worry me that we may not have time to finish this thing before heading back.

I hope everyone had a fun and safe fourth, I expect to hear stories. Buenas.

Day 19

Today was interesting in many aspects. Hopefully that will come through in this attempt.

It all started off with mass again at the neighborhood church. During vacation from school, the girls attend mass every day at 8am. I felt aches in every muscle again, and was getting very skeptical as to whether or not I was ever going to get better. The long walk there and back did not help with the problem.

Afterwards Chris and I made a trek over to the US to retrieve necessary paperwork for crossing materials that we had left on accident. Afterwards we went to the mall to walk around in rememberance of our past life as Americans. It was less than as fulfilling as I had hoped it would be. We also went to the post office to check the PO Box the Madres have for collecting donations and help from the US. All in all it was nice to be back to nice roads and easy living, but I started to miss Mexico minutes after crossing over.

Texas A&M International University is located in Laredo. I was curious so I toured the campus before heading back. It was incredibly interesting. The buildings were very nice, the campus was quite large, and deer grazed on campus like squirrels do in College Station. I´m not sure exactly why, but being there made me feel really good on the inside. I guess it says something for the Aggie spirit. I was somewhere so different and relatively far away, yet still felt like I was at home with the maroon and white, the Texas A&M insignia, and the Block T stickers everywhere.

After the quick tour we stopped by for fireworks for the girls tomorrow. Even though I´ll be out of country, I´ll still be celebrating July 4th. Hopefully anyways - we will need to get permission from the Madres first.

Crossing back was no problem and returning to the orphanage was nice. I worked on the gazebo until the rain came, showered, and passed out.

Tomorrow will be fun, and I WILL be well.