That being said, my director came to visit (which lead to another trip). Unexpectedly, I was invited to Coban to see the monastery there and visit Semuc Champey. Probably the most beautiful spot in Guatemala. A river traverses underground and flows out 200 meters later, meanwhile the aboveground part is covered with crystal blue pools of water exuded from the surrounding mts. I loved it and of course I was very mature the whole time.
I went to another spot and I don´t get to drink much here, so when an opportunity comes to have a beer, especially next a beautiful waterfall on a hot day, and just for kicks throw in the approval of not only my boss, but my monk boss (comically if you rearrange his initials, it makes pbr), it is hard to refuse.
And then there is Bernie. Fr. Bernie, is the grandpa you wish you had, the old man who could still make is wife laugh after 40 years of marrige (if he had one). He kind of roams free doing whatever he pleases here. I remember listening to Phil while Bernie was driving and telling a story to Br. Paul, and Phil paused, and said, "He told that same damn story ten minutes ago to Br. Paul. By the end I wasn´t sure to believe half the crap he said. He took us to the roadhouse café and we all had turkey soup- aparently with the blood poured on the top? We ate gizzard too. We stopped on the way to an aldea to look at the rubber trees? "What do they even use real rubber for?" I asked. "Falseys," he replied.
He had a repertoire of great lines and never seemed to let an opportunity to state the obvious or voice his opinion pass easily. Among my favorite lines where (as passing a corn field on the slope), "Oh, and here is where you can fall out of your corn field and break your leg," and "A good friend of mine used to live around her, good guy, but he got caught for trafficing cocaine and is hiding out in the woods somewhere..., and (while driving by the river late night for a place to eat), "this is where they put the bodies, and... wait where the hell are we?." But possibly my favorite moment (I like dark humor), was while having a drink we heard gunshots outside. A normal American would say, "maybe we shouldn´t go outside, he looked at his watch and in all seriousness said, "We should probably get going before it gets to late." That is how you know you live in Guatemala, when the gunshots signal it is getting a little late and you should go out now before the real danger starts.
So I got to jump off a bridge too. And little kids sold me some back-country chocolate. They don´t have cocoa butter here I assume. The cocoa tree is sacred here. They speak Ca´chi here (and Spanish too). So- funny monks, a crazy priest, waterfalls, cold beer, bridge jumping, late night domino´s pizza run, and a wii- I´d say it was a good weekend.
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