Intruders in my Hotel Room

I was sitting in my hotel room relaxing in my underwear and reading. I heard a rustle and the dueña of my hotel was showing a group of Israelis the room across the hall. They turned my door knob, and then stopped. I heard the dueña tell them not to open my door because that room is occupied.

This was a close call.

I continued reading. A few minutes later I heard the Isrealis again. This time they actually did open the door and looked at me in my underwear. They slowly cracked it like they were being sneaky, looked at me, and closed it, without saying sorry or excuse me or anything.

Ok, so now these males have barged in on me after they were already told that the room is occupied AND they saw me in my underwear.

I do not like people randomly coming into my hotel room. I do not like strange boys seeing me in my underwear.

I put some pants on and went out to accost them. My heart was pumping. I turn into a bull when I am mad.

“Hey” (This was the angry hey not the nice hey)

They smile and say “Hey” (as if I had said the nice hey, and maybe they thought I liked giving them a free show)

I tell them not to open my door. They said they were looking for their room. I know they had already been shown their room. I do not like people coming into my hotel room uninvited like this. This is rude. This is why people do not like Israeli travelers. I would never ever think of walking into someone’s hotel room like that, after I was even distinctly told not to. These boys didn’t even think it rude enough to apologize to me for. Different standards.

Ethno-Tourism and Indigenous Communities in Costa Rica

So often tourism and an intrusion of outside influences have worked against indigenous peoples. They have been exploited as exotic savages, with explorers searching them out on expeditions to tell of their strange encounters. Stemming from this, indigenous peoples have altered their own cultures, playing into these stereotypes for the monetary benefits that tourism brings. From colorful turbaned gypsies in India, the Sichuanese putting on the attire of Tibetan nomads, and the Cuna parading their naked children dancing in the streets, people have found dollar signs where tourists seek culture.

A shell of tradition, a costume, a craft, a dance becomes bastardized, losing the intricate internal meaning and bowing down only for almighty money. A beaded necklace that once took weeks to fashion and years of skill to learn, is sloppily thrown together and sold for half the price at sub-par quality. A song that once described the universe is now forgotten, and only unintelligible humming is uttered for money on the street corner. All too much, the beautiful diversities of humanity have succumbed to this plague of tourism.

(Photo of indigenous mask artisan)

In Costa Rica, however, a very interesting movement in the indigenous communities is being developed and tested. They are using tourism as a way to revitalize and preserve their cultures.

I walked into the Namu gallery in San Jose, and my senses were blasted from all sides with vibrant colors and eccentric shapes. Every corner of the store displays baskets, masks, paintings, jewelry, textiles and all crafts imaginable made by the indigenous peoples of Costa Rica. The store is almost alive as these creatures crawl over the walls. It is so overflowed with such beautiful cultural works that I can hardly believe that less than 2% of the Costa Rican population is recognized as indigenous. Yet it is because of this colorful artesania that the indigenous people are finding a guiding light.

The Namu gallery was founded in San Jose almost a decade ago by an idealistic youth anxious to display the rich indigenous cultures of Costa Rica. At that time indigenous communities were hardly acknowledged and mostly unknown to the outside world. Conall French, after spending time volunteering with various tribes in the country, realized the need for these cultures to be rescued from extinction. The brightly painted masks, intricately woven baskets, and exquisitely designed handicrafts appeared to be just the eye-catching ticket to aid in the struggle.

As a family run effort, the Frenches now showcase work from all 8 tribes of Costa Rica in their fair-trade gallery. For the craftsmen this gives them an opportunity to sell their creations to a broader market for a better price than what they might earn selling locally on the side of the highway. The earnings are split 50/50 between the artisan and the shop, and the work is shown to international buyers. Some of the artists have even been able to solely rely on their crafts for income.

The Boruca masks are a very prime example of how tourism and Namu has affected the traditional culture. Originally these people carved wooden masks with demonic faces to be worn in the dance of the “diablitos.” They have now branched out in their craftsmanship. They have developed an “ecological” mask, which mixes the traditional style of iconology but now also portrays a medley of flora and fauna from the local region. The new mask forms express an indigenous cosmovision depicting an interconnectedness with nature. Because the diablitos masks were so popular the artists have been able to creatively expand and refine their skills.

A decade ago the mask-makers were mostly elders, and the tradition appeared to be in danger of survival. As the masks became more marketable to the tourists, the younger generations found importance, and a majority of the craftsmen are now young men. The involvement of these younger generations and pride in one’s traditional customs is integral for the continuation of cultural heritage.

In the Bribri reserve of the Talamanca region in southern Costa Rica, community efforts are striving to develop a system of sustainable tourism. The Finca Educativa is a network of 17 organizations of community, grass-roots tourism. It is used as a coordination base due to its close proximity to the outside and its access to phone, internet, and fax services. The Finca Educativa was formed to promote a kind of eco-ethnotourism. This is tourism that focuses on learning about ethnic groups and culture and also includes learning about environmental issues while communing with nature.

The Finca Educativa is very particular about the type of tourism that they allow into the community. The amount of tourists admitted must be ecologically sustainable for their area. They do not permit the tour companies from outside to bring in groups that may be culturally insensitive, such as the tourists coming in from the cruise ships in Limon. All guides must be local, and they prefer to take tourists in small eager-to-learn groups, rather than individuals. The Bribri do not want their towns to become a product of tourism, like so many other have, devoted to consumerism, partying, wiping out local traditions, foreign owned businesses, and an artificial “gringo” atmosphere.

In the indigenous pueblo of Watsi community members lead tours through the village to exhibit the way they live, how they farm, and how they make traditional crafts. Often other cultural events such as dances and storytelling are featured. The organization aims to include all members in the community from the youngest to the oldest. They believe that the more the wealth is spread the more of an aiding factor it will be. A theater group of children and teens has been created using the theory of indigenous theater developed by Pablo Presbere. Through theater arts they are portraying their indigenous culture with use of folktales, plays, and dances. The oldest person of the community of the ripe age of 107 is the grandfather and great-grandfather of a majority of the town’s population. He is often the leader of the traditional “Dance of the Vulture” as well as a storyteller during tours.

A major part of the Finca Educativa initiative is the women’s group ACOMUITA. This is a cooperative of 71 indigenous females started 19 years ago by Maria Lopez. Passed from her grandmother and founder of the community, Adela, she was instilled with the importance of continuing their cultural heritage. In the Bribri belief the indigenous bloodline is handed down by the mother and inherited by the girl-children. The females have supreme power over the family and household. In lieu of this, ACOMUITA was formed for helping community development by the traditional leaders, women. The women are usually enthusiastic about being a member of ACOMUITA because they can earn extra money to help their families and send their children to school while feeling empowered.

They have many projects already established and in the making for sustainable tourism development while preserving cultural values. One of the most elaborate projects is the making of organic chocolate. Cacao is a sacred plant chosen by the almighty deity Sibu to make human, and therefore, it is believed to be a representation of the mother of people. Traditionally the indigenous have grown cacao and made chocolate candy and drinks. Yet, the custom was failing due to lack of interest and a devastation of cacao plants caused by the Monilia fungus beginning in 1978.

In 2003 Maria Lopez and the other women initiated the chocolate project through ACOMUITA to revitalize it. They are establishing themselves as organic chocolate producers, farming the fruit and cooking the chocolate. So far, 25 locally involved farms have been certified as organic by the APTA. Tourists come to watch the chocolate making process and sample the delectable treats. It is also sold in nearby towns such as Cahuita and Puerto Viejo, and at other markets throughout the country. Their efforts are keeping tradition alive throughout the community as well as producing ways to gain a much needed income.

Quitirrisi is home to another indigenous community, the Huetar, whom are using tourism as a tool for revitalization to bring back their lost culture. Don Sanchez has started an agenda of tourism based on education and sharing of cultural experiences. Most of the tourists visiting his organization are school children or educational programs.

He showcases many traditions, such as the native style of building houses, an ancestor alter and a sacred corner placed in the farm. There is even a museum of Huetar archaeology of artifacts that he has collected from the region. Don Sanchez gives lectures on the indigenous cosmovision and the history of his people. Finally, he hosts a traditional sweatlodge in which his guests may participate in the sacred ceremony.

Although the Huetar people were once thought to be the largest indigenous group in Costa Rica, their population has dwindled and their culture has followed in the decline. Don Sanchez was raised in the indigenous community of Quitirrisi, but much about his own culture he has learned secondhand through books. Over the passing of time the Huetares has lost their language, customs and belief system. Don Sanchez is desperately struggling to rejuvenate his heritage before it is lost forever.

Tourism is a very weighty force in determining the fate of indigenous peoples. It has the power to destroy or the power to build. If it is regulated properly, it may be used as a significant tool to preserve culture. It must be, however, undertaken by the indigenous communities themselves in a sustainable manner. When this occurs it can be cultivated as a positive cultural exchange in which tourists are happy yet educated, and the indigenous societies may preserve tradition while breaking chains of poverty instilled by the first world.

Drugs in Guatemala

Knowing the local language means you can fight with locals. I have found myself yelling at a lot of people lately. Antigua is a huge sludge of tourists from all over the world, and of course, many of the locals do not like them. This means many of the locals are very rude. I do not like rude people. I like it that I know Spanish because then I can tell them they are rude.

Mostly, my problem seems to be with kids on the street that want to sell you weed. They wait all over until some young-ish looking traveler comes up and tries to sell them weed. I know a lot of times this is a bad deal. I’ve had a lot of people tell me that these young tourists get sold grass that was cut off of the side of the road. That is, if the kid doesn't just run off with your money and you never seen anything in return. These people already must think I am stupid.

The other day Wade and I were walking down the street when a teenager started asking Wade if he wanted a shoe shine. Wade said no, and we continued walking. The dude, however, continued after us, asking if Wade wanted a shoe shine. Wade said no again. Then the kid asked if we wanted to buy weed.

Now this kid did not look like a wholesome character. He was dirty, his eyes were bloodshot and only half-way open, he was jittery, and looked to have some welty skin problems. I did not want to buy drugs from him, nor did I need a shoe shine from him. I think he has himself taken a few too many drugs, and I don’t think it was anything as innocent as some grass clippings.

After the kid had followed us half a block and harassed us over and over to get our money in some form I told him to leave us alone. He continued following and asking us for some service to get our money. I told him to go away.

Then he was getting mad. He wasn’t getting our money. Lots of street people know that if you yell enough at people they will get scared and give you money. Wade and I are not scared. I just got mad. He then started calling me an arsehole. Maybe I am an arsehole, but he was the one yelling at me and following me down the street. I was just walking and did not want to buy his drugs. He followed us for a couple more blocks yelling at us. I yelled at him back.

What is the best thing to do in this situation? I do not know. If someone is following me and bothering me isn’t it normal to tell them to go away? In Guatemalan culture this does not seem to be normal. When the rich upper-classes are harassed by the poor, they simply give them money like it is nothing, or they completely ignore them. I do not think that is normal. I am going to go on yelling at these people. I am not going to be yelled at by some druggy and not fight back. This is rude.

Writing a Portfolio

I am currently finishing up my semester with Global College/ Friends World Program of Long Island University. This week I have a lot of writing to do, a lot of editing, and a lot of piecing it all together. Forgive me if I do not do too much blogging this week.
More stories will come soon! I promise!
Also, I have started a spanish language blog for the work I have written in my spanish class. If you are lingually inclined, check it out:
http://vagabundagringa.blogspot.com

Safe Journeys and Happy reading,
Mira

Tourism Turning Children into Beggars

So often when tourists come to developing countries, they want to help. They come to volunteer or donate or whatnot with good wishes. Yet , more often, these good intentions turn bad. For example, when people start giving money and presents to children. When this starts, it created a dependency. Children learn by behavior. They learn that if they look sad and poor, white people will give them money. They start begging. They don’t want to work if they can get their money from tourists. A good beggar can make more in a day then many people can make in a week. The circle begins. More beggars pop up because the kid tells his friends. Now there is a whole population of children that have dropped out of school, and won’t work because they are begging. Giving them money will not help them, this is the worse thing you can do.



The other day I went to a volcano that is flooded with tourists. When you get off the bus a swarm of at least 20 children gather around you to try to sell you a walking stick. Some sell you a stick for 1 Q some for 5Q or 10 Q if they can get it out of you. At any rate, these sticks aren’t going home with you anyway, so at the end of the day the kid gets his stick back. This is begging. These kids should be in school, not trying to sell sticks. If you buy their sticks you are reaffirming their reliance on tourism. You are not helping them to gain career skills or get educated. If everyone stopped buying sticks because they feel sorry for the poor kids they could go back to school or go back to their families.

I saw one white girl giving all of the kids money. They weren’t even asking for it. She was going up behind them, tapping them on the shoulder and giving them money. Now these children have learned white faces give money. I know the girl was just trying to be nice, but it turns the children into beggars. This is a sad fate. There are other ways to help; donate to schools, play soccer with a group of kids, read the kids a book, visit someone’s home. Don’t give “gifts” that will only hurt a child’s future.

Most people just give beggars money because they look scary and they want them to leave them alone, or stop following them. In India you have to pay to be in silence and alone. The beggars follow you, poking you, wretchedly crooning baksheesh, baksheesh, baksheesh. It is a lot easier to just give them a handful of change then to be confronted with poverty. Poverty is hard to look at, and giving money seems like instant relief. People think, “Oh, I did a good thing. God bless me.” People really need to look deeper into the ramifications of their actions. Tourists make children into beggars, not poverty.

The Pacaya Volcano, Guatemala

I was scheduled to go on a tour to the Pacaya Volcano in the afternoon. This is the first time I have ever, myself, decided to go on a tour and purchased it. It was only $5 though, with private transportation, a guide, and going to a really cool active volcano. I figured it was worth it. The person who booked the tour for me told me to wait at the hotel, and the van would pick me up at 2 pm. I waited, and waited, but no van came. After over a half hour, a person from the tour company came over to tell me that the driver was about to leave. He forgot to tell me that actually I had to go to the central park to pick up the van. I ran over there, and the driver was really peeved. I tried telling him it wasn’t my fault. He thought I was stupid. The worse part is, he had previously been one of my drivers, and of course there had been problems during the ride. Oh well, the guy can be mad all he wants, I am going to a volcano!

This was my first time getting so close to an active volcano. It was hot, and there was lava. It was very surreal. I felt like I was in the Land Before Time, and kept wondering where all the dinosaurs were. Shouldn’t they be crawling out of the hole with the lava?

I think my pictures describe the experience better. I am still a little awestruck and unable to put it into words.

Budget Travel Tip: Cooking While Traveling

If I can, I usually opt to stay I hotels that offer the use of a kitchen to their guests. Cooking your own meals keeps you healthy and helps to save money. In Guatemala this has been a particularly important factor. Here food is ridiculously priced. A cheap meal here averages 20-30 Quetzales. Most meals in restaurants are way above that though, especially if you want to leave the place with a full belly. If you eat this way, before you know it you are spending $10 or more on food daily. This is well over the budget of my pocketbook as a backpacker. With hotel and all, my daily budget is usually $10. Spending money on expensive food eats up traveling funds quite quickly.

If you have access to a kitchen, or even any sort of stove and a pot, you can cook a tasty meal for cheap. In the market fruits and vegetables are cheap. Rice and beans, an absolute staple, are cheap almost everywhere in the world. Eggs usually aren’t too pricey. Meats can be more expensive, but humans only need a little bit of meat per day. This is what you need to eat to survive. This is what local people are eating. Plus, markets can be really fun and colorful experiences!



Junk food, chips, snacks, pre-packaged food, processed food etc. is expensive and usually lacks nutrition value. If you are on a small budget, don’t buy these frivolties.

Cooking my own meals, I can eat for around 5 Quetzales for each meal. This adds up to 15 for 3 meals, about $2 USD. See the money we are saving already? You can hardly find a meal for 15 Quetzales anyway in Antigua!

The second advantage is the health aspect. Montezuma’s Revenge, Dehli Belly, Jaipur worms, bizarre fevers, food-poisoning, all are not fun. One of the biggest dangers and problems with traveling is the getting sick part. Most people get sick due to some sort of bad food preparation; the meat isn’t fully cooked, the vegetables weren’t washed, there are flies landing on everything in the kitchen, you food was prepared in dirty water.

When you cook your own meals you have full control over the sanitary conditions. In many other countries, their ideas on cleanliness and health are different. A lot of people honestly just do not know that they should wash their hands. If you make your own meals you know if the cook scratched his butt and didn’t wash his hands before preparing your food. You know if your dishes were washed prior to your use. You know if your food was dropped on the grimy floor. You know if the water used to make the food was clean, or if it came from a polluted nearby sewer. Health is important. After getting really sick a couple of times, you will be begging to make your own food.

Of course one should always eat out to try the local delicacies and not be too overly anal about sanitary conditions. Yummy foreign food is all part of the traveling experience. And no kitchen, not even in the USA is completely clean. But if health has got you down, or if money is tight, consider a hotel with a kitchen. Even if it’s only for breakfast, cornflakes will cost you a lot less than eating out.

Traveling with a Significant Other

Traveling with a partner isn’t always easy. On the contrary it is hard. It exaggerates all of the little annoyances. It may be the stupidest thing, but couples will fight over it anyway if the situation is stressed.

Last night was stressed. Wade is doing god-knows-what to his website and has been working like a dog. The final week of my semester is coming up, and I am trying to finish all of my writing for school. We are both a little on edge and snappy.

In a culmination of an argument that had been building all week, Wade ran away. I had no idea where he went. This made me sad, but I did not want to sit in the room by myself and sulk. I left.

I left, just for the sake of leaving, and really had no idea what to do in the middle of the night in Antigua as a female all alone. Bars are expensive here. Restaurants are even more expensive.

After wandering around for a couple minutes, I decided I gotta get off the street, and sucked it up to pay over $2 USD for a beer. I went to the honkey bar, and watched baseball. My situation was looking a little sad still.

Fortunately, two angels walked in the door to scoop up my spirits. Well, not exactly angels, but they are such wonderful people that you might as well call them that.

They are two Vietnamese kids that immigrated to Germany with their family. Their family had been traveling on chicken buses through Central America for a few months. They were staying in the same hotel as us for a while, and their parents gave us lots of fruits and vegetables. They are really genuine, friendly, good-hearted people.

(Wade and I)

Anyway, they saw I was alone, gave me a huge hug and smile, and sat on either side of me. They were really great for conversation and jokes, and had me laughing in seconds. The night was brightening.

These kids were full of wisdom, and just knowledge on how to be a really good person, or at least be happy living life. A few days before, I had admired how well they got along for siblings and how much they seemed to dig being around each other. It had so struck me, that I even made a phone call to my own brother (this is an occasion so rare I had to dig through my bag to find where I might have his number written).

Tonight, these kids had more inspirational words for me. Talking about relationships, they told me an antidotal story of a fight they had had earlier. The girl had said to her brother, “I really love you, but I just don’t like you right now.”

These words rang out true. You may love someone unconditionally, but it doesn’t mean you like them all the time. Sometimes it is frustrating that you love someone so much. Sometimes it hurts. These kids are wise. I hope I see them again one day.

They escorted me home, to make sure I arrived safely, and walked off into the night with some more big smiles and heart-felt goodbyes.

I returned to my room to find Wade sleeping. He was extremely happy to see me. Our fighting was over, and we like each other again. My father says, “If you are hitting it too hard, sometimes you just need to lay off for a while.”

Women's Arm Pit Hair While Traveling

April 12, 2008

I shaved my armpits finally. My armpit hair has grown wild for about 3 years now, and I had come to terms and accepted the bushes under my arms. I actually kind of liked it. If you can live with a hairy body, it makes life a lot easier on the road. No long showers, no embarrassing stubble, no need to worry. Less time in the bathroom, and more time for being out in the world.

I sometimes get some funny looks, but I think hairy armpits are a means to keep away unwanted male attention. No one is going to hit on my hairy legs. It helps to weed out incompatible people. If someone won’t talk to me because I have hairy legs, I probably wouldn’t want to talk to them anyway.

Yet, sometimes when you’re traveling, weird things happen to your body. You pick up things from god knows where, and parts of your skin start falling off, or strange animals live in your belly button, or fungus eats your flesh. Last summer I started to notice some sort of distorted growth in my armpit hair. It looked like it was coated in a blondish color, but the hair itself was mushroomed, instead of a sleek piece. This is gross, and I really don’t know how to explain it. At any rate it was not normal, and I did not like it.

I really didn’t know what was causing this phenomenon, so I didn’t worry too much. Today I worried. It has been there for almost a year now. I want it gone. I am afraid it may be a fungus, or hair cancer (can you get that?), or even something more weird that I can’t pronounce that has some proper medical name.

Today I had to say goodbye to the armpit hair. I couldn’t handle it anymore. After 3 years of going au natural I had almost forgotten how horrible it is to shave though. Running a sharp piece of metal across my skin to cut off hair is not my idea of a fun activity. It is especially awful when your armpit hair is thick and long. It took me a good 10 minute to de-grizzle myself.

Hopefully now the fungus or the whatever-you-call-it-with-the-long-technical-medical-term-name will go away. I do not want to make this shaving thing a regular activity. It is too gruesome.

Yet, now, I am having horrible nightmares about shaving every night. I dreamt that a politician saw my bushy leg hair as I was riding a mechanical bull. He then decided that it was gross and publicly said this at one of his speeches. This then set off a wave of my protests, speaking out about how leg hair is natural and the man is a chauvinist pig. I didn’t know hair was so meaningful for me. Scary.

Traveling Hippies

I guess hippies have decided that when they are out of their home countries it is ok to smoke pot anywhere. I guess they think everywhere that isn’t home is heaven and anything goes. Let me enunciate on the definition of hippie that I am using here. I am not talking about the hippies that the world experienced in the 60's and 70's. I am talking about all these little neo-hippies that are popularly popping up everywhere. These are the ones that fashionably do yoga and eat granola and grow dreadlocks and talk about the moon to be cool.
Hippies tend to act badly away from home. They do stupid things and make it difficult for the rest of us travelers. Hippies just want to smoke pot. Now every tout Joe on every street corner tries to sell me pot, thinking because I am young I am also a hippie. I am not a hippie. This is bothersome to deal with these peoples, touts and hippies I mean.



(A photo of the lounge chair under my open hotel room window)

This day I was sick. I was running a high fever, really unsure if I need to take medication or even go to the hospital or what. I opened the window to get some fresh air.

A dreaded, dirty hippie boy decided he needed to smoke pot right under my window. Obviously my window is open. The hippie saw me lying half dead on my bed when he sat down outside of my window. I look like crap. I can hardly move. I can't even crawl out of bed to close my window.
Why did the hippie decide to smoke right outside my window? Does this hippie have no common sense? Doesn’t he know all of the smoke is going to blow into my window? This is rude. My room is now filled with pot smoke. I don’t care if someone smokes pot, but just have some common courtesy for other people. You can smoke all the pot you want, but I don’t want to have to smoke your second hand skank weed. This hippie must have smoked away all of his brain cells.



(A photo of the hippie with dreadlocks)
Later on the hippie returned to my window. This time he was trying to pick up a piece-of-work kiwi girl. He was doing so, by first, talking about the moon. They were talking about the solar system, and actually saying some very insipid unintelligent stuff that I think the average 3rd grader would be able to correct them on. He then started talking about festivals. This is another major past time for the neo-hippie, traveling to go to festivals. Luckily Wade was around this time to close the window and shut out this hippie. I will say I was glad to see him leave the hotel the next day. This hippie was annoying and rude. Too bad they don't make hippie drugs to grow back braincells.