El Nubo, el Volcán

Like El Niño, but cuddlier.

My sister Danielle/Daniela/El Nubo/La Nuba/Udi is the reason I went to Guatemala and the reason I came back alive. She led me around by the gills speaking Spanish for me until I learned not to feel so much like a fish out of water, made a pleasant and challenging dinner companion, and tolerated a lot of long ass bus rides and obsessive Mayanist geeking with a smile. So I figure I owe her.

Nubo is in Guatemala volunteering for two different organizations: CasaSito and Cultural Survival. For one, she teaches English and maintains a fine compost heap. For the other she runs around Guatemala trying to organize, fund and promote community radio stations by and for the indigenous Maya, giving them the chance to use and share their incredible, tiny, struggling culture and language via mass communication. Both are excellent causes and would, I am sure, not object to having a little of your moola.

Nubo keeps a blog, http://danielle-daniela.blogspot.com/, where she writes about Guatemala and what she’s doing there. I wish she would post more.

She also has started making these cool earrings, using dried pinto beans she buys from the local ladies down at the mercado:
Pretty, no?

The more of your moola you give her in exchange for them, the longer she gets to stay down in Guate doing good deeds. And I, for one, need a little time to scrape together plane fare enough to visit her again before she leaves. So. Buy earrings.

Thank you for your kind attention.

And now, to distract you from the above philanthropic shill, here’s el Volcán de Fuego flowing its top:

I never noticed it while I was staying down in Antigua, but the one night I slept up in the hills, I woke up without knowing why around three in the morning, then lay there for an hour, listening to it cough up ashes and fire–and feeling it, in the pit of my stomach: like a distant, staccato thunder-roll that just goes on and on. In the darkness, sometimes you can see it glowing.

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