hanging out in San Ignacio

This morning my mother was feeling sick, so we got to sleep in and then hang out in our room. Our hotel here has internet, so I got caught up with all the latest Michele Bachman news. Then we had to switch hostels, but then she took a nap so I got to hang out some more in bed. Vacation from my vacation!

In the afternoon, we walked around the town toting bottles of Gatorade. San Ignacio is tiny. We pass by a wall topped by broken pieces of glass (to keep out intruders?), a wall painted with facts about HIV, and a cement staircase leading to nothing (beginning and ending in someone's front yard). We also see hawks circling in the sky suspiciously.

On one end of town, we walked through the cemetery, which is the saddest cemetery we had ever been in. Rectangular cement crypts lie around haphazardly, in various states of upkeep, many of them painted and even more of them looking like they survived a hurricane. Some family crypts stand open and hollow, their gaps littered with garbage. There is only a foot worn path down the center of the cemetery; the rest is overgrown the grass and weeds. I spot a giant iguana sunbathing on a rock and it slithers underneath as we come near. This makes me more uneasy for what other creatures are hiding behind all of the cement?

On the opposite side of town is the Belmoral River. It is shallow and wide and surrounded by grassy banks and big, leafy trees. We spy a perfect spot to lay out, but as we get closer, we see two men shepherding a stray opossum away from their food cart. So we cross to the exact opposite side of the river and the opposite side of the bridge and lay out our sarongs and take out our books and spot a magnificent rainbow and remark that THIS is what we've been lacking the entire trip, this peaceful, grassy spot to lie down and relax--

--And then it starts to drizzle.

Thank goodness it was a light drizzle and lasted only ten minutes. For the rest of the hour, we got to rest and enjoy the spectacular scenery and the soothing sounds of cars bump-bumping over the wooden bridge. I read a book about two old Alaskan Athabaskan Indian women who survive a harsh winter. This is one of the prettiest rivers I've had the pleasure of sitting by.

Soon it is near sunset and we go back to our hostel and I attempt to take a shower but the hot water shower head switch is so confusing that we can't figure it out and I end up just washing my feet in the cold, cold water. It is while trying to figure out the shower that I notice the toilet lid has been secured in place using a Sharpie marker instead of a screw. You probably have to see this to believe it, so of course I took a picture. Then we visited a pharmacy and bought tons of drugs. For dinner I had the same vegetable soup as last night and IT WAS THE MOST DELICIOUS VEGETABLE SOUP I HAVE EVER HAD!

Yaxha and border

Today we go to Yaxha, pronounced “Yah-SHA,” some more Mayan ruins about an hour and a half outside of Flores. Our taxi driver is playing the Billboard hits from 1986. What a great year! Pretty much every song that comes on I have as an a capella recording.

Yaxha is lovely and pretty opposite from Tikal. Mostly because it is supremely empty. We walk ourselves around in a counter-clockwise direction (the book tells us to) and climb a few pyramids to get a nice view. Many pyramids have not been excavated yet, but you can tell they are pyramids because the dirt and trees are piled into a tall, triangular mound. This park would be amazing if they fully excavated everything and you would be able to get a much better sense of what the city-state was like. Alas.

It is really hot and humid and my knees start hurting after the eight thousandth flight of stairs this week.

We had to return to Flores in order to retrace our steps and cross the border, even though that added another 4 hours to our driving time. We ate lunch at a lovely lake-side restaurant where the tables were painted bright colors and had glass and pottery mosaics on the walls. It took forever to get the bill because our waiter (the only waiter) disappeared and a sad man on crutches who we thought worked there could not for the life of him locate the receipt pad, the pens, proper change.... it was like a black comedy.

Several things happened on our way to the Guatemalan/Belizian border:

• We took a collective taxi bus with real Guatemalans
• We sat in the front seat
• Food sellers came on and off the bus at the bus station
• The windshield is completely cracked
• The bus (van) is overfilled with 25 people plus the driver
• We go through loud and busy Santa Elena
• My mother almost loses her prescription sunglasses when they fell out the passenger window right before we left and she didn't notice
• The driver uses the same hot yellow microfiber rag to wipe off his dirty dashboard and then wipe off his sweaty face
• We meet some guy named Edwin Garcia from North Carolina/Guatemala who is a bit too friendly for my taste and invites us to stay at his house the next time we visit the country

Finally we reach the border and walk through immigration with little fanfare. We take a taxi to San Ignacio, which is bustling with life and with ENGLISH. Our hotel, Casa Blanca, is essentially a Motel 6 level place, and our exclamatory reactions to the clean floors, fully made beds, and clean bathroom indicates that we've been staying at places well below our station. For dinner I have red beans and rice, fried plantains, and the best vegetable soup I've ever tasted. Crazy dreams again.

Flores

Arriving in Flores in the late afternoon, it seemed as if we had stumbled upon paradise. A room with electricity full time, a lake spread out before us, lots of little restaurants with tables on the patios, people strolling up and down the “boardwalk,” people even swimming off of the dock, and a rooftop deck with hammocks and tables and chairs on which to hang out and feel the breeze. The weather was lovely with the humidity cooling off as the sun set over the water. Birds were going crazy squacking and flying back and forth between the rooftops and a tree right next to our room. I had a dinner of nachos at one of the lake-side restaurants and used their internet before we settled into bed for the night. A little bit uneasily, as the mattresses were definitely marked by bedbugs. (I am an expert in these matters.)

The next morning, I felt like being lazy again and spent some time reading in the hammock on the roof before Jody pulled me away to make arrangements. It was overcast and slightly misty and I really didn't want to do anything other than sit and stare at the water. Feeling exhausted, I followed her around the tiny town until I was overwhelmed by making decisions and returned to the hammock to read and photograph the sunset for the rest of the afternoon and evening. The clouds are really incredible. I had two hours to myself for the first time on the trip and the loud birds kept me company. My mom hired a boat by herself and floated around the lake until it was past dark.

It is at this point in the trip that eating and making arrangements has become a real chore. How often at home do you sit down for a full three meals a day? Spending so much time thinking about ordering and waiting and then focusing on eating gets really tiring. I know this sounds like a real White Whine, (aka First World Problems), but it's true. In cultures that still have large family meals, you only sit down to one or two together. All I want is a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich that I pay for first and then eat mindlessly while walking or sitting on my bed.

I was still feeling really down so I made a phone call which I usually never do while traveling because it feels like cheating. I started crying as soon as I finished dialing but they were happy tears and I felt much better afterwards.

Tonight is the last night of Chanukah! My mom has extra candles because we skipped a night or two in the middle, so after the first set of candles goes out, she lights them again.

I fall asleep instantly and have vivid dreams. I am blaming it on the malaria pills.

Tikal

Omigod, guys, this place is just my wet dream. Ancient stone ruins hidden amidst the jungle. We watched the sky get lighter and lighter from the top of a pyramid temple and walked around the park in the early morning mist. After a quick nap, we did it all again in the sunshine. There are no words. I'm just going to attach my favorite pictures.

Day 6

Today was transit day. Pretty boring, but a welcome rest from all of the walking and plenty of time to take catnaps. We had a three hour, bumpy, windy shuttle trip to Antigua. We ate some great food in a little garden of a restaurant and my mom bought eight million more Guatemalan woven scarves. Then we got another shuttle to the airport. Here, they confiscated my precious Israeli sunscreen and were total dicks about it but when I started crying and the supervisor came over, he let me pour some of it into a smaller bottle and take it onto the plane. My mother took her entire toiletries bag, which was comprised of tiny bottles of this and that and was probably four times the size of a ziplock bag. Airline security is theater here as well. The flight was uneventful and we luckily found some other travelers who had already booked a shuttle to Tikal, so we joined them. When we arrived here, we had exactly one hour of electricity before the generator went off. We hurriedly showered and got our stuff ready for our FOUR FIFTEEN A.M. SUNRISE TOUR tomorrow. (In six hours.)

San Marcos walk

Despite previous declarations that we were going to finally rest, we ended up spending the entire day walking/hiking around Lake Atitlan. We met Antonio, the leader of Juevenes Maya, a young man who leads nature and cultural tours around the area to benefit the local community. We also recruited three other tourists to go on the hike with us: Josh, who we met in the courtyard of our hotel as he emerged from a shower and assured us that he could get ready in 5 minutes, and Leora and Gabriel, a newly married couple from San Fransisco who we met the night before while eating pizza and watching Spanish Home Alone. It was a happy coincidence that we saw all of them right as we were setting out on our hike, as it was much livelier with 5 of us, plus we now had the benefit of Leora's fluent Spanish. Plus we are all Jews, and Jews like other Jews.

LEORA AND GABRIEL ARE GREAT!!!

Our hike took us on a road around the lake, passing through several Mayan pueblos and producing stunning views of the surrounding volcanoes. We passed wild coffee plants and go to taste the bean – it's sweet like a fruit before drying and roasting! We also ate some guava fruit and avocado off of the trees next to the road. Yum! We also saw a mountain shaped like a person's profile and a cave that Antonio said was used by Mayan priests for animal sacrifice. There was a lot of bougainvillea and many houses made from adobe bricks. It was a peaceful walk save for the little, red tuk-tuks that zoomed by every few minutes.

We stopped at a park/beach where there were dozens of Mayan families picnicking and swimming together. Here we learned that Lake Atitlan has risen five meters in the past two years, due to heavy rains and flooding. We could see houses and trees along the coast that were submerged up to the roof. This maybe explains why there was no place to sit next to the lake and hang out – all the previous docks and patios were underwater. We got some ice cream which was gross and headed to the next town for lunch...

...And had an intense conversation about health care reform and the constitutionality of mandating health insurance and how the government sets up challenges in the private sector to reward innovation. Someone remarked that the Republican presidential candidate field seems full of exaggerated versions of real people. Josh told us about how he just finished consulting on a project in which a company was rewarded for creating a light bulb that is 15 times more efficient than the ones we use today. You will see it at Home Depot next year.

Finally, we reached San Pedro. The first stop was at a coffee production yard, where we saw piles of coffee bean in various stages of production: husks, raw beans drying, and roasted beans. All of these were spread out in someone's yard. Second, we walked through the town and watched a bizarre costume dance performance which I can only presume was in honor of Christmas. Mayan families were gathered around a town square watching dancers while pop music blared loudly. Each dancer was wearing a costume that seemed completely unrelated to the next. There was a Smurf, a cowgirl, a football player (American football), a duende (magical elf gnome of Latino folklore), Shrek, an old man, a pirate, Zorro, a clown, and old lady, a soldier, the Hamburglar, a police officer, and more. As if they bought every single costume that was available in the past five years and wore them all together. They were all wearing masks that matched their outfit, which made it all the more creepy. As we walked out of the town square, I saw a vendor selling firecrackers with pictures of Osama bin Laden on them.

Eventually, it was time to leave, so we boarded the boat back to San Marcos and arrived just as the sun was going down. Even though I did not lay out and be lazy at all, I got plenty of sunshine all day long and got to see Mayan culture as well. For dinner, we ventured out to the famous Aculuux, but it was closed, and we could only admire its recycled glass windows and trimmings by flashlight. Instead, we went to El Fe where our crooked hostel owner Paul was also an owner and my mom has Sag Aloo and I had a pasta dish with papaya and spinach sauce. It was freaking delicious.

San Marcos de la Laguna

Well, our hopes for a lazy and relaxing day were UNREALIZED. We spent the first half of the day in transit and the second half of the day walking back and forth.

Our shuttle to Panajachel picked us up at our hostel right after breakfast. The driver tossed our packs onto the roof (yikes) and we spent the next three hours driving up and down and across mountains to get to Lake Atitlan. Along the way we passed hundreds of dried up corn fields (Maya proudly call themselves “People of the Corn”) and hundreds of little Mayan children on the side of the road hanging out and waving at our van. We're not sure why they were there in the first place. Some whole families were sitting there, on patches of grass on the edge of a cliff next to the highway, women all bundled up in their colorful huipas and skirts, often times holding babies, children teeny and ruddy cheeked and standing apart from the adults. In some cases, small children were walking beside the road by themselves. We wondered if maybe it was because it was Christmas eve and no one had school? In any case, we must have passed a group of waving kids every thirty seconds and each time we attempted to take a picture through the window. Jody did not get a single shot of the children but did get several splendid shots of blurry foliage. (She wants you to know that she DID get a picture of our shuttle driver peeing when he stopped in the middle of a hill and disembarked without announcement.)

In Solola, we passed by a crazy regional market going on – even more women in embroidered shawls/blouses/skirts-- and lots of traffic. We finally got to Panajachel as the sun was overhead and yay! Warmth! But we needed to find a bank with an ATM, so we had to walk up and down the main drag first. Two banks wouldn't let us in but luckily we found an ATM with policemen stationed right outside. Then boat taxi (“barco publica”) all the way to San Marcos, which took almost an hour because our boat was so overloaded and dipped deep into the water so we had to go slow.

El sol, el sol, el sol! All I wanted to do was lay in the sun. Here are the things we did instead of that:

• walked around with our luggage following a young boy who said he knew where our hotel was but really he took up in a giant circle ten meters from where we started and then complained when we paid him only 2 quetzales
• dumped our stuff out and repacked our daypacks
• ate lunch and played cards
• changed into shorts and hat
• checked out the local tour guide to see about hikes for the following day
• walked down to the dock where there was no where to sit
• walked back and forth along the shoreline looking for a place to sit near the water
• walked back to our hotel room to double check something or other
• walked back to the dock and took some pictures sitting on the dock of the lake (yes) but two boys were pestering us
• checked out another local tour guide who wasn't there and his helper only spoke Spanish and I sulked the whole way because it was taking up precious sunning time
• took some pictures of bougainvillea which comes in magenta, orange, and yellow
• made fun of the hippie yoga crowd here who all wear ugly baggy pants and pretend to love each other and are incredibly unfriendly towards everyone else, like don't even smile hello
  

FINALLY we returned to our hotel again and found a tiny patch of grass right next to our room which offered just enough sunshine for me to lay down my sarong and sunbathe. Ten minutes later, the sun set behind the volcano.

-EVENING-

So then I came inside and was sad because I missed the whole day of sun. Jody convinced me to walk into “town” where there was still some sun. This is when we discovered the church – Jody says, “What's 'Benny's videos'?” referring to the Bienvenidos sign above the entrance which was missing an “e.”

We sat down and watched the hall fill up with Mayan men, women, and children. They were all very quiet. The service was a Catholic mass as far as we could figure out, since it was conducted in two languages that we don't speak – Spanish and Mayan Kaqchiquel. Several American Christmas songs were sung in Spanish which I knew because of ACC, like “The First Noel” and “Angels We Have Heard on High.” They did the incense walk down the aisle, several mini sermons, some kneeling, and communion. There were no prayer books. The women and girls all wore the same colorful striped head shawl and I was dying to take pictures the whole time but restrained myself due to church etiquette. Except for one.

After that, we wandered back and forth between our hotel thatched hut and the junk food market (I found Intenso cookies!!!!!!!) and the dock and then we followed some hippie yoga snobs to see where they hung out, then back to our place to watch Home Alone in Spanish and use the internet that wasn't working. I ate a pizza and now we're calling it a night. Hopefully, tomorrow will be sunny again because I have more horizontal aspirations.