Awww! I Love You Too, Girls

Last night Marta called me from Nicole's phone to tell me to Ven! Tenemos una sorpressa! Come down here! We have a surprise! I assumed she was just making up the whole surprise thing in order to get me to come visit the section.

And then I got there, and I actually got my surprise!

The eight girls who used to be in my section but moved up last month to an older section -- the eight girls I invited to come back to my despedida on Tuesday night -- had made me a sign! It says "We Love You, Carrie." And the stickers also tell me I'm Girl of the Year, that I have a long list of goals, dreams, and friends, and that I'm a heartbreaker haha.

Awwwww. I love it.

Oh, and Two Quick Videos

I think they had fun last night?

The Despedida, Part 2

So, here's what we did! Last night, we had a pijamada! A sleepover. And we made those adorable pillows I've been saturating my blog with. Here's how it went. :)

We started off by eating dinner in the section. We brought food down from the comedor and all gathered in the sala. All of the Fatima girls were there, plus the eight girls who just moved out of my section last month, plus three tías, plus an año de servicio, plus me. We had a full house! We'd also dragged all of the girls' mattresses into the sala, creating one massive bed for all 30 of us to plop down upon.

I'd kept the whole pillow project a surprise, so when we'd finished eating, I finally revealed to the girls what was in the two huge bags I'd toted down to the section earlier. They'd been poking at them (Girls! Don't sit on that bag!) all night trying to figure out what was inside, hah.

Earlier this week, in authentic pijamada fashion, I'd made each girl a goodie bag! In her goodie bag, everyone received her two pieces of heart-shaped fleece, a card I'd written her, some photos I'd printed for her, and a couple of polovorosa cookies. And oh MAN were they excited to get 'em. I felt like Santa Claus pulling out goodie bag after goodie bag, calling out the girls' names. So much shrieking and freaking out and hoping I called so-and-so's name next. It was adorable.

 Many thanks go out to the panadería in Parramos that made me a special order of 70 polvorosas!

 Goodie bags!

Well, they loved their cards and they loved their photos (Ay mira! Y quiero ver las tuyas! Aw look! And I want to see yours!) and they loved the cookies and they LOVED making the pillows. They maybe even took it a little too seriously, those little perfeccionistas. Carrie, come help me cut this! Carrie, I'm going to mess it up! Carrie, over here next! Carrie, over here! Carrie, Carrie, Carrie! But in the end, the pillows turned out GREAT!

Afterwards, all 30-ish of us found spots on the giant sala-sized bed we'd created, and we proceeded (with new pillows tucked behind our heads) to watch movies until 2 a.m. It made me remember, haha -- when you're 13, the point of a sleepover is to not sleep. At all.

We slept in this morning until the very last minute and then dragged ourselves up to the comedor just in time for breakfast. The girls and I parted ways for the day, and I think I got more Gracias, Carrie's and Gracias por todo Carrie's than I maybe ever have. The despedida was a huge success, and I couldn't have asked for it to go any better. Man, love those girls.

The Despedida, Part 1

La despedida. It means "the farewell," and as much as we'd like to deny it, that's where we're at now. The beginning of the farewell.

Sometime way back in volunteer history began the tradition of despedidas with the sections. Ever since then, it has become a ritual for each leaving volunteer to do something -- some kind of going-away event -- with their section of kiddos.

Back in May, I blogged about kids and birthdays. I talked about how the road to respect and to teaching these kids that volunteers-don't-equal-cash is...well, it's kind of through being a Scrooge. I said that being a volunteer at NPH means showing the kids, via not giving in, that I am here to share my time with you, not my bank account. And the same philosophy holds true when it comes to despedidas.

As your time comes to a close, the kids will start to tell you what they want you to give to them as your despedida. (There's a word you learn in Guatemala for this: engasado.) They'll ask you where you're going to take them for an all-day excursion or what expensive meal you're going to cook them. And can you even blame them? Odds are, it's what the volunteer before you did, or before them did, or what some other volunteer is doing this year. They're kids, and even after an entire year, they're still going to try to milk you for all you're worth.

But that's where you step in.

Yes, it's scary to tell the girls I'm not taking them on an excursion or cooking them anything -- everyone fears a disappointed kid -- but for me, neither an excursion or a home-cooked meal with my girls felt right. In my personal relationship with them, I wanted my despedida to be right here in the house; that felt right. And anyone who knows me will tell you that cooking for a huge group of people would give me a full-on anxiety attack, so that definitely didn't feel right. I know despedidas are for the kids, but if the entire point of having been their volunteer this year was to be a good role model to them -- just by being myself -- then my despedida should sort of feel like me, shouldn't it?

Besides, I've worked too hard for 12 months to show my girls that "Carrie is not here to give you money or presents or treat you to special things." Why would I throw all that away in the last 2 weeks?

I could tell you why, at least according to some people. Because they deserve it! They deserve something big! Hmm, okay. I mean, do they really though? And is that even the question we should be asking? What about, do they need a big fancy despedida?

Here. I'll tell you what they do need, and what they unarguably deserve: it's my time, my attention, and my interest in them. And those things don't have to be delivered in an out-with-a-bang despedida, at least I hope not.

Soooo, all that being said, read on for how I said "farewell" to the niñas this year... :)

Theme of the Year: It Always Works Out

On Friday, all of us leaving volunteers attended a workshop in which we were supposed to look back on our time here...and then think about what life is going to be like next. At one point, we were discussing overarching experiences of the year -- themes of the year, if you will. I blurted out:

At the last minute, everything always works out. Guatemala -- somehow-- always seems to pull through.

And I could not mean it more.

So so so so so many times this year, I have walked into a day or a situation or a task and thought, "There is no way on earth this is going to happen. This is going to be an absolute total disaster. Get me out." And then, as if by Mayan magic, it all somehow works out. And it works out beautifully.

I mean it. Things just have a way of working out in this place. It makes me think of this night and this adventure and this whole crazy experience. It reminds me of the weeks leading up to this, this miracle, the transportation mishaps involved with this, the months leading up to this, and moments like this. See, my blog is just full of proof. :)

So, I think that's my theme of the year: just when I least expected it, everything always worked out.

And so what did I say when I was then asked at the workshop, "And so what does that mean? How has that changed you?"

I answered, "Well, I guess it means I have more faith in life, hah."

:)

The Whole Year in Front of Me

For my despedida with the section this Tuesday, I'm printing each girl a handful of photos. I've been holding out pretty much all year long on printing them photos every time they ask me, but, well, I've basically run out of time.

Right now I'm sorting through them and writing notes and dates on the backs, so there are a million little stacks of photos spread across my bed. I cannot tell you how weird it is to look down at them and see this whole year in front of me.

Beh. This is depressing.

Stuck on the Camioneta

Today I got stuck on the camioneta for 45 minutes when we hit random gridlock traffic. They literally turned the bus off, and we just sat there. That was a Guatemala first!