Sencillo

(image from Prensa Libre)

Guatemala is coming out with new 200Q (~$25) notes in November. I am sure this higher bill will only exacerbate the country’s chronic deficiency of change.

As it is now, 100Q is the largest bill in Guatemala. Most tienda owners, taxi drivers, and bus ayudantes react to 100Q bills as if they were poisonous snakes. They take a step back, shake their heads, and say, “Fíjese que no hay sencillo.” (I’m sorry, there is no change.)

In the case of tiendas, if your purchase is worth the effort, the owner will run out to other shops or find someone in the street (highly unlikely) to break the bill. However, if the owner or employee is lazy or your purchase is insignificant, then sorry, you’ll have to do without that bag of refried beans. And sometimes owners, not wanting to use all of their accumulated 1s, 5s, and 10s, will say they don’t have change even though they do (once I broke a 100 on a small purchase in a store immediately after a woman was turned away because there was “no change.”), in order to place the burden of searching for change on the purchaser.

With camionetas and micros the lack of change situation can sometimes be worked to your advantage. For example, the trip between Tactic and Cobán costs 6Q. If you give the ayudante a 100Q bill and say, “Sorry. The only other bill I have is 5Q,” then most likely he’ll take the 5Q instead of having to scrounge to give you 94Q in change. You just saved yourself 13 cents! But this tactic can also backfire. I know of volunteers who have received false bills after paying with a 100. That turns into a costly ride.

These frustrating situations arise because the ATMs only dispense bills in denominations of 100. You’ve got to make change somehow, somewhere.

Fortunately, I have found the perfect solution to avoid the change shortage. Every time I make a purchase at my favorite tienda in town I pay with a 100Q bill, regardless if the total was 10Q or 60Q. The owners, Raúl and Rut, always have change, and since I am their friend I never get the fíjese que runaround. I accumulate these small bills and coins to use in situations—bus fare, taxi fare, market purchases, etc.—where exact change is either imperative or at least will save me from a big hassle.

But when the new 200Q bill comes out, it looks like making change it going to become twice as hard.

What a difference...

a month makes.

June 22nd

July 20th

Balacera

Hardly a day goes by without the word “balacera” showing up in the newspaper here. Balaceras are shootouts. They often occur between the police and drug cartels, competing drug cartels, or, on the very rare occasion, between different divisions of the police. Oops.

One such inter-police shooting occurred just the other day in a restaurant in Cobán. Three members of the Special Division of Criminal Investigations (Deinc) skirmished with three members of the Office of Professional Responsibility (ORP). The guys from the ORP had set up a sting operation against the agents from the Deinc who were supposedly extorting a Cobanero for some $10,000. The Deinc agents claim that the supposed victim of extortion is actually the head of a lucrative car stealing business in the area and through his connections in the upper echelons of the ORP had the investigation being conducted by the Deinc stopped.

Slightly confusing? Perhaps. But it does not concern me whether the Deinc or the ORP or both are corrupt. What I find most amusing about this story is the shootout. Here is how the newspaper Nuestro Diario described it:

Elementos de la Deinc abrieron fuego en contra de los investigadores de la ORP y se produjo la balacera que culminó con la captura de los tres agentes policíacos…En el intercambio de disparos, nadie resultó herido.

(Elements of the Deinc opened fire against investigators of the ORP and produced a shootout that culminated in the capture of the three police agents…In the exchange of shots, no one was injured.)

In a shootout between six law enforcement officers in the enclosed area of a restaurant, not a single person was able to actually hit somebody with a bullet?

Wow. That is either sad or suspect. I am leaning towards sad. Sad, not as in ‘Oh gee, I wish someone would have been killed or injured,’ but sad as in, ‘Man, that is some really bad marksmanship!’ Maybe training is focused more on evasive tactics than accuracy with a firearm.

As a joke about the poor shooting skills of the police force in reference to the sniper slogan, ‘One Shot One Kill,’ a officer once told me, “En Guatemala no es así. Aquí es ‘Veinte tiros, tal vez un herido.’” (“In Guatemala it’s not like that. Here it is ‘Twenty shots, maybe one wounded.’”) After reading this story, pienso que sí, él tiene razón.

¡Golazo!

The word golazo is supposed to be reserved for only spectacular goals in soccer, but it seems that the term is used here for any shot that finds its way into the net. Understandably so, since it is a lot more fun to say than just gol.

Extensión

My mom has informed me that people are wondering if I am back in the states yet. No I am not. Stop bothering her.

I am still in Guatemala and will be for quite a while longer. Yes, my official two-year Peace Corps service ended the past Saturday, but I have signed on until the end of the year. Overtime. Extra innings. Stupidity? Pues.

Apparently I haven’t gotten my fill of chuchos, tortillas, and the rain…No, wait, I have. I am staying to ensure my project is ready to be passed off completely to the locals. Maybe someday I’ll actually get around to writing about this project on my blog...

Up for grabs

Emails such as this one are just one of the many reasons why I so thoroughly enjoy our Safety and Security Coordinator:

Folks: We got a UPS package here at the office with no name. Contains candy bars and other junk. If you think it’s yours, give me a call and describe contents.

Makali

Give me 8

I heard a story about a newly arrived Peace Corps Volunteer who instead of cooking one evening decided to have Guatemalan fast food—tortillas. He went to a tortilla vendor in the park and said, “Me gustaría ocho, porfa.”

The vendor was a little surprised and asked, “¿Solamente para usted?”

“Sí. Tengo hambre.”

At that reply the woman and her companions burst into laughter. The volunteer, on the other hand, was offended assuming that the women believed because he was a gringo that he couldn’t handle eating eight tortillas.

But the PCV was unaware of the Guatemalan tortilla buying custom: Tortillas are ordered based on their monetary value and not the quantity. Therefore if you approached a vendor and said, “I would like one please,” she would give you 1 Quetzal worth of tortillas, which depending on the size of the tortillas and the going price in a given town would probably be 4-6.

So the indigenous vendors found the thought of the skinny white guy eating some 40 tortillas on his own quite hilarious. As would I.