We had just one weekend to fit in the highlands in southwestern Guatemala, before our Spanish classes began on Monday, so off we went to Panajachel along the shore of Lake Atitlan, an enormous volcanic crater. We took a tourista minivan there and noticed that the infamous "chicken" buses of Guatemala were passing us! (On the way back, we took chicken buses the whole way for a fraction of the fare and experienced the real Guatemala and an unparalleled cultural immersion! See below!) The drive to Panajachel is a must-see. I know I’ve already said that Guatemala is dramatic but this is a step above... literally! You’re at a breathtaking elevation as you traverse mammoth, jagged mountains and pass tiny mountain villages and miles and miles of vivid natural splendor interspersed with terraced farm land. Of course any drive in Guatemala is accentuated by the fact that none of the vehicles have any shocks so that coupled with the treacherous mountainous conditions makes for Guatemala’s version of Mr. Toad’s wild ride! Just before we descended into Panajachel, the driver, without warning, drove right up to the railing of the steep clip, put the van in park, and invited us to get out and enjoy the view for 10 minutes or so. After recovering from the vision of us toppling over the cliff into Lake Atitlan, I hobbled out of the van on weak legs and tried to enjoy the view while monitoring Peter who for some unknown reason wanted to practice his skateboarding moves off the slick concrete roof that led directly off the cliff to his untimely and certain death!  We arrived in tact after an incredibly steep descent into Panajachel and spent the day and evening exploring this lakeside village. That evening while dining at our palapa restaurant on the lake, we were treated to nature’s own fireworks over the lake as a storm was passing over the far side of the lake and created dramatic flashes of lightning, illuminating the surrounding mountains and dramatic cloud formations.

The next morning we headed early to market in Chichicastenango ("tenango" means the "the land of" and many towns end with this tag)... along with half the population of the highlands (and I think they were all on our bus, and maybe even on my seat!). The market at Chichi is the largest in Central America and attracts many tourists as well as locals. I sat next to a Mayan woman and her young son (and one of my butt cheeks shared an aisle with her husband in the adjacent seat!), also on their way to market to stock up on food and supplies. Naturally, in our intimate quarters (I think there were 4 adults and 1 child on one bus seat), we struck up a conversation and she asked me how many children I have, noticing that I was monitoring Peter and Paul who were also in similar circumstances in front and behind me. I told her I had two children and she said, "Ah, only 2??!!" I said, "Yes, and how many do you have?" She replied without flinching and with an absolutely peaceful facade, "12." Well, I had to verify that figure and then said, "Wow, you’re my hero!" And we both laughed heartily over my reaction.

I love chicken buses and as I said earlier it’s the only way to experience the real Guatemala. There’s really nothing more egalitarian than chicken buses. Forget any limits on the number of passengers; the basic rule is that anyone and everyone can get on the bus and anyone and everyone should get a seat. It’s kind of like the story of the loaves and fishes in reverse and it’s definitely a daily miracle because the way it works is that everyone works together as a new group of people board the bus to compress as many people as possible onto the bus and somehow everyone who wants a seat, gets a seat, or if you’re daring or want extra ventilation, you can always hang out the side. If you’re weary, do not despair, just place your head on the shoulder of the stranger next to you and take a nap. And, day-in, day-out, this miracle of the compression of humanity takes places on thousands of chicken buses across the country! It truly is a spiritual experience!

On a more practical note, the chicken buses are the most efficient form of transportation as well. The bus drivers of these chicken buses do not fool around. They know these roads and will take full advantage of the downhill stretches to make up for any lost time chugging up the steep inclines. They have no qualms about passing slower moving vehicles and do so on a regular basis. I swear, these guys deserve some sort of honorary status for the skillful service they provide, hauling much of the Guatemalan population to and fro on a daily basis!

One evening, Steve, Peter and I took free salsa lessons (Couldn’t convince Paul, he watched!). Oche, kooche, did I love that salsa. Paul said I had a strained expression on my face as I was learning the steps, but once they turned on the music, I came alive. We rotated partners and I got the first dance with Steve and the last dance with Peter, and, if I must say so myself, Peter and I were pretty darn slick out on that dance floor and of course, it was a treat dancing with my oldest son!

More from Guatemala. As we have explored Guatemala this past week, especially on our drive into the dramatic Guatemalan highlands, I have been struck by the juxtaposition of such a glorious land and peaceful people and the country’s war-torn history, fraught with civil strife, economic injustice and ethnic oppression. I just can’t get this irreconcilable reality out of my mind; it haunts me as I meet the people-mestizos, Maya, and many international tourists, visit the relics of Maya and colonial history, shop in the mercados full of brightly colored Maya weavings, and explore the natural beauty of the country, replete with volcanoes, massive mountains, checkered with terraced, cultivated farm plots, and expansive lakes. It’s a land of striking contrasts: Brilliantly colored Mayan weaving and governmental sanctioned-repression against these creative, intelligent and industrious people. Salsa dancing and gross human rights violations. Touristas and the marginal masses. Colonialism and the Maya people. Baroque and indigenous art. Catholicism and a spirituality of the earth. And, somehow these seemingly mutually exclusive or diametrically opposed realities merge to create the rhythm of Guatemalan life. Guatemala is truly an amazing tapestry of diverse cultural, political and spiritual elements.

And speaking of this unique mosaic, we attended mass at San Tomas, a Catholic church in Chichi heavily influenced by Maya spirituality. The mass was conducted in Spanish, Maya and English, as there was a group of Catholic young people doing community service in a nearby village attending the service. Thoughout the mass, Maya families congregated around altars in the middle of the church´s main aisle and performed a fascinating ritual of lighting candles for family members in need of prayers, offering ears of corn, apples and other produce, and sprinkling the whole arrangment with rose petals and tequila (not sure of the significance of this other than to make the offering that much more potent, eh??). This occured throughout mass and really added to the richness of the worship. On the steps of the church, church and village elders burned incense constantly and flowers of all varieties and colors covered the entrance. Approaching the church was a mystical experience (see photo of the steps at San Tomas). 

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

I have had so many rich impressions of Guatemala that I’m afraid I won’t be able to capture them all here as several days have elapsed since I last recorded my reflections. For the past three days, Peter, Paul and I have spent each morning in one-on-one tutorial in Spanish and are having a blast immersing ourselves into the language. My maestra (teacher), Matilde, and I are continually diverging into interesting conversation while forming sentences from our own experiences with various conjugated verbs in the past, present and imperfect tenses! We’ve talked politics, family, religion, natural medicine, history, and culture, among other topics. One of her granddaughters died of leukemia which spurred her interest in natural medicine and she’s going to bring me a recipe for a couple of remedies that have had proven curative properties for cancer and other immunological maladies. She is also Catholic and we’ve talked about how important faith is in sustaining us in the journey. She has had significant tragedy in her life—her husband died suddenly two years ago while she was visiting a friend in Germany; a son-in-law and brother died quite young of alcoholism; her mother died young of a broken heart after her brother died so young; she and her brothers and sisters are now estranged from their father because when he remarried, his wife drove a wedge between him and his children; and a cousin, who was adopted by a foreign family, has since curtailed ties with her family of origin. As we share our lives with one another, we discover how we are all connected by that common bond of humanity in all its beauty and brokenness.

Since Sunday night, we have been staying in the home of a host family. Paul remarked that it felt strange to be the "hostees" as we have hosted several international students from the American English Institute at the University of Oregon for the past few years. Senora Natalia, her daughter and two granddaughters live upstairs and provide students and families with a room downstairs and three meals a day. We’re paying about $30/day for our family! The added bonus has been that we have shared the house and our three meals a day with two delightful families, Mike, Barbara and Becky from western Pennsylvania and Steve, Kathy and Carter, 9 years old, from rural North Carolina. Mike is a high school Spanish teacher, Barbara a home economics middle school teacher and Becky is working on her masters in public policy. Steve is a web editor/writer for a non-profit research firm and Kathy is a director of a domestic violence non-profit organization. Thankfully, we’re all of a similar political persuasion so we’ve had some lively conversation about the present administration and other administrations that have helped create the harsh political and economic realities that exist throughout Latin America. All of us have been taking Spanish classes and exploring the culture and comparing notes about our experiences. We visited one of the oldest colonial houses, dating back to the 1600s, together. The house was originally owned by one of the original Spanish conquistadores in this area, was destroyed by an earthquake in the 1800s, and rebuilt by an agricultural entrepreneur in the early 1900s. After the tour, Kathy informed us that the owner, Popenoe, was not surprisingly a top-ranking executive with the United Fruit Company, one of the multinationals that was complicitous in the destabilization of agrarian reform in Guatemala in the 1950s which led to the civil war that tore the country apart for most of the latter part of the 20^th century. To this day, Rigoberta Menchu, the Guatemalan mayan woman who won the Nobel Peace Prize and oversaw the signing of Guatemala’s peace accords in 1996, still does not live in Guatemala, but is a refugee in Mexico.

Ah, but I digress. We are enjoying the company of our new friends and have established cybernet connections. Steve, Kathy and Carter are also documenting their trip with a travelog and photos. Barbara plans to talk to the 7^th grade teachers who teach Asian and African history at her school about our travels and she thinks they will be very interested in establishing contact with their students and Peter and Paul while we’re actually visiting some of the countries they will be studying.

We have had riotous conversations about adventures abroad as all of us are passionate about seeing the world. Becky has been on several international excursions since she was an early teen, and Mike has led several tours of high school students in South and Central America. As you can imagine, traveling with 30-plus high school students in a developing country is the recipe for plentiful adventure! We have found ourselves in stitches recounting these tales of travel, and today, Mike, Barbara and Becky nearly re-enacted one of these tales. During Mike’s last trip to Costa Rica with a high school group, one girl overslept and was 1 1/2 hours late to the group’s meeting spot, causing them to nearly miss their flight! Today, they were supposed to catch a shuttle to Guatemala City at 4 a.m. for a flight and excursion to Tikal; however, at 5:15 a.m. the shuttle had not arrived and they began to worry that they might not make their flight. their shuttle driver overslept!

It has been absolutely delightful partaking in conversation and we all look forward to reuniting with our friends at meals. Oftentimes in the evenings, we forego other activities to hang out with them. Tonight we celebrated Carter’s ninth birthday and Mike and Barbara’s 30-odd anniversary, along with Senora Natalia, her daughter, and grandchildren, Emile and Fatima. All the children had the opportunity to bash the nearly indestructible piñata, and we sang "Feliz Cumpleanos" to Carter and indulged in a lovely white and chocolate cake in her honor.

Everybody goes to Tikal early because that’s when you can see the most animals. So not to be outdone, we were up at 5:15 a.m., on the 6 a.m. shuttle to Tikal and in the park by 7:30 a.m. Peter assumed the role of tour guide and plotted out our course through this massive national park. We headed into the older, more remote part of the park, visiting a collection of smaller temples, some unexcavated but shapely mounds, and altars and stelas, or stone tablets that depicted aspects of the life of the person buried at that altar in intricate carvings. It was at one of these complexes of ruins that we encountered our first and only howler monkeys of the day. They are called howler monkeys because of their distinctive, haunting “howl.” There they were just above us hanging out next to complex Q, seemingly gathering to worship at these sacred grounds after their tree top pilgrimage. I found myself riveted by this primate clan… until I realized that we were being eaten alive by mosquitoes. Suddenly, other visitors began dispersing and one particularly harangued fellow asked if he could use some of our bug juice as I was desperately applying it to Peter, Paul, Steve and me. Reluctantly, we bid our primate compadres goodbye and continued into the jungle. On several paths we found ourselves completely alone in the jungle, though the park attracts thousands of visitors a day. As we were walking through the quiet jungle, we might hear a rustling or some debris might drop on the ground in front of us and often we would discover a family of spider monkeys high above us in the canopy. Each time was a delight as we watched them perform acrobatic stunts, groom each other and even urinate, though we were sure to steer clear of the waterfall he created! We were amused by one fellow who was trying to take his afternoon siesta in the nook of a tree but kept getting harassed by bugs. He would settle in and then jolt to a start and start picking or slapping at the pesky critter that kept disturbing his peaceful slumber. Poor fellow!

We finally arrived at one of the main temples, Templo IV, the tallest of all the ruins. You climb up stairs/ladder to the top and though it’s 64 meters tall, the jungle canopy provides a visual buffer for the otherwise dizzying height. In all directions as far as the eye could see, we were surrounded by the lush canopy, enveloping a jungle ecosystem vibrating with life. Howler monkeys, toucans, and other birds of numerous species created a symphony of sound and we were captivated by the awesomeness of our surroundings. There I was, afraid of heights, and I didn’t want to leave. Peter, Paul and I ascended the few steps to the very top of the ruins and just that relatively small distance above the already immense height of the body of the ruins encompassed in jungle was enough to freak me out though!

At the Grand Plaza, we arrived at Temple I and II and the north, south and central acropolises. King Moon Double Comb, or Lord Chocolate (“Aah, Cacao”) is buried beneath Temple I, or the Temple of the Grand Jaguar, because he restored not only Tikal’s military prominence but its reputation as the most resplendent city in the Mayan world after the city was conquered and suffered under another kingdom’s reign for more than a century from the late 500s to 600s. The surrounding acropolises were large complexes of ruins where the royal family lived, were buried and where various spiritual rituals were performed. You could almost envision a bustling plaza, filled with people attending to the royal family, preparing for the various spiritual rites that occurred there regularly and creating the beautiful carvings that not only recorded the history of the culture but endowed the kingdom with spiritual power. We had a blast exploring these ruins especially because they were filled with mysterious pathways that led to hidden courtyards, chambers and smaller temples, or chapels, throughout the complex. I lost Peter and Paul a few times but tracked their explorations by voice.

Wow, it was hot in the heat of the mid-day in the Grand Plaza and we sought refuge in El Mundo Perdido (the Lost World), where a large complex of ruins, including Tikal’s oldest pyramid dating back to 700 BC, emerges from the pervasive jungle in and among the ruins, providing welcomed shade. It turns out that another creature also seeks refuge in El Mundo Perdido and we were delighted to find that the smaller trees above us were filled with toucanettes. We were afforded a close-up view of these striking birds with their brilliantly painted beaks feeding on fruit and animatedly socializing with their fellow toucanettes.

During the mid afternoon, we were caught in a tropical deluge. We found shelter under a palm, and we later saw one of the archeological workers at the site running through the trail, using one of these branches as an umbrella. The rain created yet another impressive orchestra, and after the rain subsided, it was as if the jungle, and us along with it, were revived. We ambled along the trail back to the shuttles enjoying the electrifying energy emanating from the jungle.

Exhausted on the shuttle ride back to Flores, Peter, Paul and a little local boy fell asleep on each other’s shoulders. We arrived back in Flores at 5:30 p.m. or so, bought our tickets for the night bus to Antigua and wandered over to the basketball courts in the town square again. Peter was the only one who had the energy to play a game of basketball. He played two on two for about an hour or so and then we headed back to the hostel to wait until our bus left at 10:30 p.m. That in itself was hard as we were exhausted but that coupled with the conditions we encountered on the bus, combined to make the experience absolutely miserable. Our “luxury” bus had only one temperature, COLD, seats that barely reclined, and no foot rests. In addition, I had strained a muscle in my thigh/hip climbing the ruins that day and these cramped conditions exacerbated my discomfort. I thought morning would never come.

We arrived in Antigua in southern Guatemala at 7:30 a.m. before anyone had yet checked-out of the hostel, Casa Amarilla (Yellow House), so we went in search of food. I was approached by a Guatemalan hustling tour business who led us to a little hole in the wall in the marketplace that served “Comida Tipica.” It did indeed serve a typical Guatemalan breakfast of eggs, beans and tortillas but I think we were all too exhausted and grumpy to truly appreciate it! We walked around Antigua, a lovely mountain village with cobbled streets, bougainvillea, ceramic tiles, and red-tiled rooftops, many of which were adorned with gardens. By the time we got reasonably acclimated around town and booked a Spanish school for the next week and a shuttle to Lake Atitlan for the weekend, our beds were available at the hostel and we all fell into a deep and very pleasant afternoon sleep!

Wednesday, August 3, 2005

It’s been a whirlwind since we left Belize. We met a British couple at the Guatemalan border who negotiated a mini-bus to Flores in northern Guatemala and asked us if we wanted to split the fare. They were on holidays in Central America and, once we started comparing notes, we discovered we were on a remarkably similar course through the Yucatan, Belize and Guatemala. (Over the course of the next few days, we encountered them at Tikal as we were about to surmount the tallest temple and then amazingly in the middle of the largest market in Central America in southern Guatemala two days later.)  Northern Guatemala was breathtaking; we passed stunning countryside, with neat cultivated plots carved out of the mountainside, more jungle and occasionally, a great lake would stretch across the valleys between the majestic mountains. There is industriousness about the villagers traveling along the thoroughfares by horse-drawn cart, by horseback or on foot carrying their produce or handiwork in large baskets on their heads or in giant slings.

Flores is a lovely, little colonial town, actually an island connected by a bridge to the mainland of Peten province at the dusty outback sister town of Santa Elena. After having an amazing lunch with luscious, chunky, fresh guacamole and nachos (avocados are in season right now and we can’t get enough guacamole. Even Paul, who said he didn’t like guacamole, finally tried it because of all our ravings and exclaimed, “This sure doesn’t taste like Albertson’s guacamole!” and was immediately hooked as well!) for only $10 (recommended by Lonely Planet), we crashed at the hammocks on the patio of our hostel in Flores for our afternoon siesta. That evening we walked to the central plaza and peter, Paul and Steve caught a basketball game with some local basketball enthusiasts. The Picado-Curtis team prevailed but because of the language barrier, we weren’t sure what the exact score was and I was distracted with my deaf friend who was also watching the game and very animatedly communicating with me in modified sign language and the little boy, about 5 years old, who was experimenting with Peter’s skateboard without fear through puddles and other slick surfaces, taking fierce falls, but getting right up again. I found out that he was quite a rough and tumble kid; a few weeks earlier he landed on his head performing some stunt, lost consciousness but thankfully recovered. We retired early, as did others in our dormitory, in preparation for an early rising to see Tikal, the grand Mayan ruins amidst a lush jungle, the next day.