The people down by the river, dragaonflies and cactus

My favorite activity is walking. If the walk is long enough I’ll come across a few interesting things.

Down by the river I saw a group of shacks. Calling them shacks is glorifying the structures. I’m sure the people I saw this morning live no better than the most unfortunate of people living in Haiti or the Congo.

There was a woman with a stick hammering away at the ground. I think she was trying to make a garden. One of the structures had a rag for a door. Another structure, likely the owner more enterprising than the neighbors, had found a real door. Most of the structures had nothing but a doorway.

No toilet facilities, no electricity, no water because the river is dry. They are likely Guatemalans who made it across the border without being shot. Guatemalans who came looking for a better life and, let’s face it, failed to find it. Perhaps they should move farther north.

The American Immigration Authority has billboard signs at the bus stops. They are black, white and red. The language is Spanish, naturally, but if written in English would read something like: “ Thinking of crossing the boarder? Here’s what could happen. You could get mixed up with organized crime. You could die in the desert. You could be put in jail. You could lose the opportunity to cross legally.” Jail would be a step up for the people living down by the river.

Since we are in the wet season, almost every night it rains. Generally the thirsty ground soaks up all the water, but on one of the service roads there was a huge pool of water. I watched the dragon flies. They were fascinating. Mating in the air. Sticking together in pairs. Skimming the water. Back into flight. Skimming again. Up then down. Always together in their dance. When the task was done and the mating game complete they went their separate ways.

On my patio a rare event has occurred. My cactus has bloomed. As far as I know it’s a Polaskia Chichipe. I really ought to study gardening in this part of the world. Apparentlyit rarely blooms.

April 6 - Biotopo Cerro Cahui

There would be lots of birds and jungle animals early in the morning or at dusk. I saw none, I was there at the wrong time of day. It was a 6 km. hike with plenty of climbing. I was the only hiker. I sat and listened to the sound of the wind rustling through the palms.

My visit to Flores was at an end. I sat by the lake and watched the sun set. I have grown rather fond of this beautiful place on the lake.

Tomorrow I leave for Belize.

April 5 - Laguna Yaxha

It was suppose to be a walk through the jungle, but it wasn’t.

My guide was a young woman who spoke only Spanish. She hobbled along because her left foot was twisted. I couldn’t help but think that surgery could correct the problem and it is a sorry state of affairs that so many Guatemalans suffer because they can’t afford proper medical care.

On the flight to Flores I overheard a very foolish Mennonite/Belizean/ Canadian talk to an American sitting across the aisle. He said he felt sorry for the U.S. citizens because they are now stuck with a universal health care system. He went on to say how great the Guatemalan medical facilities are and how many Canadian and Americans come to Guatemala for medical care because its so good and so cheap.

He talked about the inadequacies of the Canadian system, and how no one can see a doctor in Canada unless it’s an absolute emergency.

I think he wears blinders. Doesn’t he see the twisted limbs, the people who walk with their hands because they have no legs, the people with rotted teeth.

My guide trips. She is in pain. She says she’s fine. I disagree. I continue exploring on my own. She apologizes for her inability.

(Look closely at the second picture and you'll see the large yellow tail of a bird)

April 4 - Tikal

Mayan skyscrapers jutted out of the jungle.

Wild turkeys, and other creatures I couldn’t identify were all around.

I watched others capture wild life in motion far better than I could because I didn’t know how to use my camera. Now that I’m back in Oaxaca I’m learning about shutter speed and continuous shooting. We live, we learn.

April 3 - Flores

The plane to Flores, the next stop on my journey, left at 6:30 a.m., without my scissors. It seems there is always something I forget to take out of my bag that will be confiscated.

Flores is a hours flight northeast of Antigua, situated on the island in Lake Peten. I stayed at the Hotel Sabana, a hotel that has seen better days, but has a pool and lovely view of the lake. It’s hot and humid, and I had to purchase jungle clothes, consisting of tank tops and baggy cotton cut offs. My normal attire of jeans and T-shirts just wouldn’t do. The sweat was pouring off me

(view of hotel with Lake Peten in the background)

March 30 - April 1 - Castellanos Alfombra

The family Castellanos may think I’m crazy, but the event that began close to midnight and continued until almost 4 p.m. the next day made no sense to me. The family is large. Mercedes, their eighty-two year old matriarch, has ten children, thirty-two grandchildren, and twenty-two great grandchildren. During the week of semana santa Mercedes house, which was my homestay, was very busy. Various family members dropped by to visit, or to take Mercedes to church. But, this night and into the next day was busiest of all. At first only the men in the family came to the house. They had to wait until all the parked cars were cleared from the street, then their sixteen hour project began.

Before work started all the family members who were present formed a circle, joined hands, and a prayer was said. The men strung lights across the street. Next they carried the big bags of sawdust that would lay the foundation for the alfombra (carpet). (By this time I had learned that the designs made of sawdust that I had first seen in Santa Anna represent carpets.)

Three family members had spent, lord only knows how much time, creating the design and making the stencils for the carpet the family would build in the street in front of the house. Using the same design every year would never do, and so each year a new design had to be thought out. This year’s design was of the quetzals, the national bird, the name of Guatemalan money and sacred to the Mayans.

There were pine needles to sort and straighten in preparation for the final step, the fringe around the elaborate alfombra. I watched Mercedes as she began the tedious task of sorting and straightening out pine needles, this was a task I could help with, always good to chip in.

Throughout the night people came and went, and food was served. Telma, who is married to one of Mercedes sons, and Anna, the housekeeper, had spend days preparing food for this night. As night turned to day, and the day marched on more and more family members arrived to work on the alfombra. They wore T-shirts to identify themselves and the event.

The procession was to come by at 2:30 in the afternoon, when 2:15 arrived, and the alfombra was not finished, I thought it wouldn’t be completed on time, but family members assured me that it would. The procession was late, it was as if it were waiting for the completion of the elaborate Castellanos alfombra.

When the carpet was complete the family applauded, took many photos and chattered about the magic of family. Minutes later the procession came and the alfombra was destroyed.

Ya know what? I do understand the reason for all this work that disappeared moments after it was completed. They were building an alfombra to strengthen their family ties and their faith.

On April 2 I said goodbye to the Castellanos and Mario, the director of the school, gave me a ride to the Crown Plaza Hotel in Guatemala City, which is near the airport.

March 26 - Back to Antigua

I returned to Antigua. Rosario arranged a ride for us with her friend who is the driver, and may even be the owner, of a tourist mini-bus (collectivo). Rosario had arranged the ride because she needed to go to the dentist, she told me there was no need for me to pay for the ride. I gave the driver a little something anyway, as did the two Mayan women we picked up on the way out of San Antonio. Rosario’s friend drops me off at the Panajachel parking lot where another collectivo will pick me up for the ride to Antigua.

Costumed children arrived in tuk tuks with their parents. The children were wearing assorted costumes, Japanese geishas, Disney ducks, flowers, soldiers, princesses, etc. As the street filled with children I became concerned that traffic wouldn’t be able to come down the street.

I asked a street vendor what was going on, and would the traffic be stopped. He told me I had nothing to worry about. Fortunately two more collectivo passengers arrived and we waited together. They had a cell phone and made a call to their tour operator. The tour operator told them if the collectivo driver couldn’t get through he’d walk, meet up with us, and we’d walk to the collectivo. That’s what happened. But. . . he couldn’t find Jennifer. Eventually, after taking us to the collectivo, he goes back and finds Jennifer. As it turns out she was standing next to us all the time, but with all the children she didn’t notice. Off we go. On a different route than the one that took me to Panajachel.

Half the people in the collectivo were car sick because of the bumpy, windy road. They shared Gravol. Some were frightened, thinking we might be in danger of attack because the road was almost deserted. At another point some of my fellow passengers begged for a bathroom break.

In spite of our trials and tribulations We arrived save and sound in Antiqua. It was Friday night, and mysteriously there wasn’t a procession that would interfere with traffic.

March 22 - Bus Strike

On this day, I was going to travel to Lake Atitlan, my plan was to study Spanish for five days while sitting beside the lake, I was also going to visit the surrounding villages. During the 36 year civil war (1960 - 1996), which is Latin America’s longest civil war, much of the struggle occurred in this area where Mayan people still wear their traditional costumes and eke out a meagre existance.

Civil war is over, but civil unrest continues. I couldn’t leave for Lake Atitlan because Guatemalan bus drivers held an illegal strike, blocking the road to Guatemala City's airport, also the road to Lake Atitlan.

In Guatemala, as in Mexico, a strike cannot take place without the permission of the government. Soldiers were called in, a bus driver was shot dead, the roadblocks removed, and by afternoon traffic was back to normal.

People trying to get to Guatemala City to catch flights missed them. Tour operators were frantic. I went to the tour operator I used to get back my $25 guide fee, and to book a spot on a collectivo for the next day.

March 16 - I climb a volcano

There are more than thirty volcanoes in Guatemala, I climbed one of them.

With hurricanes, earthquakes and volcanos making Guatemala’s land so unstable I wonder if eventually North America and South America will separate and Central America disappear.

My guide book wrote that it wasn’t advisable to climb to the top of the volcano because of lava flows. And yet, my estimate was that at least sixty people were at the top when I was there. Yes, indeedy, deed, these old legs of mine managed to reach the summit.

It was an hour drive from Antigua to the foot of the mountain. l rode in a collectivo full of 20 something people, a couple from Argentina and several Israelis.

I’m sixty-one. I made this point because I couldn’t keep up. As I huffed and puffed my way up the steep and steady incline men with horses walking behind us goaded me saying over and over, “100 quetzals and you can ride a horse.”

My amigos were encouraging as I continually refused to ride a horse. There was at least one young woman who gave up the walk and climbed on the horse, but not I, by far the oldest of the group.

The climb up the mountain took an hour. Then came the greater challenge, a half hour steep and wobbly climb up the lava rock that got hotter as we came closer to the summit.

Sulfur gas, high altitude and heat took its toll on a few who didn’t quite make it. Slow - ever so slowly I went onward - a young person coming down said, “Keep going, it’s worth it.”

At the top I met up with the young man who so kindly carried my bag. At last, water to drink, and my camera. The river of lava poured/streamed out the volcano. I succeeded as had dozens of twenty something people form around the world.

It was sunset as we ambled down the volcanic rock, and pitch black when we reached the volcanic base. We stared in amazement as molten lava bubbled and spurted out of the mountain. Nature created a spectacular fire show.

The way down with flashlights turned on was much easier than the way up.

March 11 - Santa Maria de Jesus

Brian, a pilot from Atlanta Georgia was my housemate for the week. On Wednesday evening I asked if he’d like to take a ride on a chicken bus. I’d read if that if you haven’t ridden a chicken bus, you haven’t experienced Guatemala.

At first the plan was to just hop on and go wherever the bus took us. But at lunch the next day I spoke with the family, and they recommended Santa Maria de Jesus as a destination. It is a short 20 minute bus ride up the mountain on a windy road to this small Mayan village.

As we entered the pueblo, we saw women washing clothes in a central pool. We got off the bus, found a grocery store, and each of us purchased a bottle of beer. We had hoped for a restaurant or bar, but there wasn’t one in this small town. As we sat on the curb drinking our beer, two funerals went by, one accompanied by a solo flute, the other with an entire band badly playing a funeral dirge. We also saw burros that carried huge piles of firewood on their backs, and a strange animal we couldn’t identify, but sort of looked like a cow.

It was a delightful way to spend an afternoon.

(Photo is of central wash area in Antigua, but the one in Santa Maria de Jesus was the first I saw)

March 8 - Antugua - School and Homestay

I studied Spanish weekday mornings for four weeks, three in Antigua. The school I chose is call Tecun Uman, a busy place.

My homestay was a in house built only two years ago, and the My family took their hosting job very seriously, carrying on conversations with me at each meal, which may not have been easy at times.

Brian, a pilot from Atlanta Georgia, was the other person in the house during the first week of my stay, after that I was the only house guest.

So far, for no one knows when the next earthquake will happen, Antigua has been destroyed by earthquakes three times, in 1717, 1773 and again in 1917. Once the greatest city in Latin America it is now a beautiful, tranquil and spotlessly clean place that has carved a niche for itself by providing language teaching and cultural exposure to tourist from around the world.

Although the school provided language classes in both the morning and afternoon, most students studied only in the morning and explored Antigua and the surrounding area in the afternoon. The school organized activities for the afternoon, and I participated in a few.

Jade of many colours is mined in the area, and there is a jade museum that was part of a walk around the city tour I took my first day of classes. An Australian woman and I were the only students and our guide was Claudia, a very attractive young woman who recently married an American who she met when he was studying at the school

(photo is of my homestay)

The next tour I went on was so crowded that we needed two mini buses. The trip took us to a Macadamia orchard. Macadamia nuts grow in Australia, Hawaii and Guatemala.

March 6-7 - Traveling

March 6 I travelled from Palenque to San Cristobal and stayed for one night at the Media Luna, worth mentioning because it was a nice hotel for the price, $300 pesos.

March 7 I travelled by shuttle (collectivo) to the Guatemala boarder, crossed the boarder got on another shuttle, changed shuttles once more, and eventually ended my journey in Antigua.

“We have no system,” the Guatemalan immigration official at the border told us as he wrote our names and passport numbers on what looked like a scrap piece of paper.

The boarder crossing was fascinating, swarms of ragged human beings stood around doing nothing because they had nothing to do. And yet, in all their idleness there was a hurried sense of busyness. It was hot, crowded, dirty and noisy.

There are three volcanos surrounding Antigua. One welcomed our arrival with puffs of smoke. Every Sunday there’s a procession, and the streets are blocked. The shuttle driver couldn’t get to my hotel. I considered walking but, the street lighting wasn’t good, my shoulder was still painful and my duffel bag was heavy. “Just take me to any hotel with a private bath,” I said.

The hotel I was going to stay in charged my credit card.

(The photos are of Media Luna. If you ever visit San Cristobal, I recommend this hotel)

What I've been up to.

This has been a week of medical adventures. The doctor I went to was born, raised and educated in California. The dentist doesn't speak English, which would generally be fine, but my teeth are complicated and I needed to tell him their history. I didn't want the filling replaced before my trip because I was concerned I might have an abscess nerve in a country where I knew no one. He tried to assure me that the filling was a long way from the pulp. It didn't work. He did put a coating on the tooth which corrected the sensitivity. I'll pay him a visit when I get back. The x-ray, consultation and the coating cost $250 pesos.

I injured my shoulder when I took a hard fall in August and it still hasn't healed. The x-ray, a steroid shot, a perscription for an anti-inflamatory and two visits to the doctor's office cost me $500 pesos. Filling the perscription cost $40 pesos. However, so far no change in the condition of the tendon that is causing the pain. At least now I know not to exercise the arm.

I'm leaving early this evening for Chiapas, Guatemala and Belize. It will be a long trip, eleven hours to San Cristobal, Chiapas. I don't know if I'll be able to check into the hotel when I arrive mid-morning, but I'm quite sure they'll tuck my duffle bag away somewhere.

With all the lugguage I own, none worked for this trip. So I purchased a rather large duffle bag, larger than I need, I think. It cost $300 pesos. Hopefully I'll be able to carry it with my one good arm.

I'm gone for about six weeks and will be posting from time to time, but I'm not taking my computer and photos won't be posted until my return to Oaxaca.