Clowning Around in Guatemala!

"A clown is like an aspirin except that it works twice as fast." - Groucho Marx

Being socially inept, physically awkward and somewhat clumsy, clowning around comes surprisingly easy to me. Last summer I put all the pieces together. I travel. I clown. I write. 

Clowning brings people together. Through silliness, irreverence and innocence, clowning is a bridge across generations, languages and cultures. Following in the footsteps of numerous hospital clowning projects - created to heal through a playful and personal connection- I set off for Central America, traveling in top hat and tails, with a bag full of toys and ties.
That first day in Antigua, Guatemala I woke up immobilized. What the hell am I doing here? Why did I think that a vagabond clown such as I am could make any kind of difference to the kids in Guatemala? I honestly had no idea what I was doing or where my first cup of coffee was coming from. I had arrived with neither local money nor a map. Not very sensible of me I admit. Why did I bring fake flowers, two clown hats, juggling clubs but no sandals, sunglasses or even a sleeping bag?
Antigua opened up in a grid of cobblestone streets, pastel painted adobe walls, tropical plants, parks, plazas and churches from the sixteenth century. Outside San Pedro hospital, Mayan vendors offered traditional colorful woven clothes, as people ate from the fruit stall next to the papaya tree. Tall and floppy in baggy blue pants and a brightly striped t-shirt, not forgetting a top hat and bowtie, I started to juggle. The balls; yellow, red, and green stripes, flew and fell randomly. Within minutes I had three kids watching wide-eyed in fascination. These Mayan girls, from three to eight years old, were barefoot yet dressed in elaborately embroidered huipels (blouses) and plain dark colored cortes (wrap around skirts). We swapped names in simple Spanish. The oldest one, Maria, counted to five in English for me. The shoe-shine boy behind me sat on his wooden box, staring solemnly.