Dalama Adventures Tale of two corporate types ditching their jobs and traveling the world for 14 months... check out all photos, blogs & interesting tid bits at http://www.dalama.net

We are non-practicing Catholics - CEO's (Christmas and Easter Only), the types my Mom would rip on (well, I must admit the entire family would join in with Mom) at church during the holidays when all the good parking spots and front row pews were taken up by mobs of CEO's attempting to redeem themselves at mass twice a year.  Being in the heart of a land full of dedicated Roman Catholics, we through we'd go to mass on Sunday with Marta and witness the deep Guatemalan passion and faith they display.  We've actually attended Spanish language mass in San Diego, and found it was fairly easy to follow along; the songs were familiar tunes, and all the prayers (the Our Father, Profession of Faith, etc) have a certain unmistakable rhythm that once you fall into, you can still participate (but using English words).  Here, though, everything is different.  The songs are unrecognizable (despite my years of memorizing and playing seemingly all of them on guitar in the Church folk group), but the number of people belting out lyrics and participating is overwhelming.  I think we are the only ones not singing.  And while the parts of mass are all the same, the prayers all have a very different rhythm, and we can't recognize them well enough to chant along.  The priest speaks fast into a microphone that echoes, ricocheting his voice throughout the many chambers of this church, making it extremely difficult to make out his words and understand what he's saying.  I pick up lots of stuff about "los ninos" and the congregation frequently chimes in with "Si, Señor or El Señor" (Father).  The few words we did understand with no trouble at all, were during the receipt of communion - the Priest says, "El Cuerpo de Cristo" and they everyone here accepts it the old fashioned way on the tongue.  Now all would have been just fine, except that Darrin has turned the word Cuerpo into a bit of a joke and catchy jingle from our early days of Spanish lessons in Xela - he would constantly chatter about his cuerpo hediondo (dirty body) referring to all the times on our trip when we must go without showering, and feel filthy.  That's not really the picture I wanted to have in my mind as I'm receiving the holy sacrament of El Cuerpo de Cristo.  That diversion aside, we enjoyed our local religious and cultural experience, and it was fabulous to be a part of such a passionate, musical and spiritual activity.  People here actually go to church daily and the church bells sound every hour, signaling the start of a new mass.  Lucky for us, we're living right across from Iglesia de San Francisco and the bells serve as our trusty alarm every morning at 6:00 a.m.