Vale la pena? Unfortunately, my crappy camera doesn’t quite capture how amazingly gorgeous this view is. It just took every last bit of my willpower to get there. The volcanoes and mountains of Central American offer some of the best hiking around. Much of the terrain is manageable for amateurs and relatively safe. Volcan Tajumulco, at nearly 14,000 feet is the tallest peak in Central America, thus one of the most popular hikes here. A group of 17 people from my school, led by one maestro, decided to make the journey to the top of Central America to see Sunday’s sunrise. Since I love to go to the tops of things, I jumped at the opportunity. The plan was to leave Xela at 10:00 PM Saturday, arrive at the base at 1:00 AM, hike for 4 hours to the top, wait for sunrise, then hike back down and head home.
First, since I failed to bring a winter hat or gloves to the tropics, I had to rent some. There’s a group here in Xela called Quetzaltrekkers that does weekly hikes to various local volcanoes. They have lots of warm clothing to rent. We could have gone with them also. They were leaving Saturday morning and planned to camp on the mountain for the night, then wake up to catch the sunrise. But we planned to hike up Saturday night and avoid carry the camping gear. I tried taking a nap Saturday afternoon, but I guess I was too excited, so that didn’t happen. So off we went at 10 Saturday night. We had a couple of private shuttle vans take us to the base of the mountain. The trip took about two-and-half hours and since we were driving on Guatemalan roads, there would be no sleeping on the way either. I wasn’t worried though, I was feeling great.
We arrived at the base, probably about a mile below the summit altitude-wise and several miles of trails to the top. We all bundled up, gathered our flashlights, water and snacks, and joyfully started our ascent on schedule at 1 in the morning. We were fortunate that it didn’t rain, except for some spitting now and then, as we didn’t have to worry about the cold nearly as much. Our leader had told us to all keep together, so with 17 people of different hiking ability, it made it slow. The first hour was almost entirely a dirt road. Why we couldn’t have driven up that far, I’m not sure, but it was pretty easy. Then we got into a meadow, which switched to a forest, which switched to another meadow, which switched to another forest, which switched to another meadow. We were now about 2.5 hours into the hike and we had a beautiful view of the lights of the surrounding towns below, plus we could see the top of the volcano. It still looked far away, mostly because it was. The temperature had dropped to the 30s, but I was sweating. Still, I started to notice the lack of sleep. My legs were beginning to burn a bit. The altitude was making me feel drunk. And the terrain was getting steeper. There were a couple of people who would have preferred to stop right there, but most of the group maintained a go-get-em attitude.
The next 1.5 hours finally produced some casualties. It had been four hours of hiking and we were supposed to be at the summit already, but we still weren’t really close. About seven people couldn’t go on anymore, but that wasn’t going to stop the rest of us. We didn’t manage to stay together, fracturing off into smaller groups. There was a group ahead of me, and a group behind me. I was exhausted, but determined. Eventually, Raji and I were on our own. She was the wind beneath my wings. Around 6 am, the sun started to come up and we were close to the top. Due to the clouds, it wasn’t quite as spectacular as it could have been, but it was amazing. Finally, around 6:15, we joined another group at the top, and the other group was right behind us.
It’s tough to tell, but that’s the horizon meeting the Pacific Ocean behind us, about 150 miles away. It was freakin’ cold up there though, so we didn’t bask in the beauty for too long. We all reconvened just down the mountain and ate some banana/apple/yogurt breakfast. My old legs were not happy that I was still walking on them, but we couldn’t wait to get back to the vans. The hike down took about 2.5 hours and by the end of it, even the young people were exhausted and bitching.
I’d have to say it was the most difficult physical activity I’ve ever done. I had completely underestimated how difficult it would be. Particularly since I had a similar view just two months ago in Hawaii. A volcano that Scott and I drove up. But I’m also proud of myself for doing it. I was so tired when we got back to the vans that I slept most of the way back to Xela. I got home around noon, showered, and only allowed myself to sleep for three hours, before getting up and getting some food. I did nothing but watch the Twilight series in Spanish all day. (I’d kill myself to have to watch them in English, but they’re really good in Spanish because the dialogue is slow and basic And I’m totally on team Jacob!) I still haven’t made it to the fair yet, but tomorrow is Guatemalan Independence Day, so it’ll be spectacular. My legs are still sore, but it’s a good sore, ya know?
Yesterday was my mediotiempo here. Four-and-a-half weeks down, four-and-a-half to go. On one hand, it feels more like it's been four-and-a-half years. On the other hand, I think I was hugging my Boo at the airport, I blinked like Samantha from Bewitched, and time fast-forwarded to now. Conversely, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever make it back to LA, but I’m sure it’ll feel like just another blink when it’s all done. Also, I took something of a midterm exam, not for a grade or anything, but just to check in on my progress. Alas, I’m still depressed about how much Spanish I don’t know. I think I’m going to vote that the rest of the world should have to learn English for the sake of my brain. Where's that ballot?
One of the pastimes of some maestros here is ping pong. There’s a table at the school and this group of four plays doubles every day. Thus, they’re really good. 
Now, I’m not a great ping pong player, but I can usually hold my own with most people. Not with these guys. They don’t really like playing against me because they’re so bored by it. I haven’t been this beaten down since I’d play against the Chinese kids in my college dorm. (Yes, Daryl/Steve, you usually beat me, but not 21-5!) I think I’m just going to have to live with being a Pepe of all trades, master of none.
Annie de LA and I went to brunch a couple of weeks back. Here’s the menu.
We both ordered a number four, of course. Even though it’s pretty much the same meal I get from Maria de Xela nearly every day. It was yummy and filling, naturally. Speaking of Maria de Xela, I still love her, but I’m not as enamored with her cooking anymore. While I really like all of the food, it’s pretty much the same every single day. Mush with banana or corn flakes, one huevo, frijoles, and tortillas for breakfast. Arroz, pasta, this potato-like vegetable called guisquil, tortillas, and either broccoli or chicken for lunch. Carb heaven! Dinner is more frijoles, tortillas, and platanos. Again, all stuff that I like, but can a gringo get a burger once in a while? I'm kidding. Mostly. It’s a good thing I’m a creature of habit myself. Occasionally, I buy banana bread or other pan to take a break from tortillas and I occasionally hit up different restaurants, like the one from the picture. And in spite of the ingredients, I couldn’t pass up the chapin desayuno.
Maria de Xela likes having a man around and I try to help out where I can. I removed a big rock from her garden. I change the agua pura bottle in the house. I kill gigantic flying insects in the house. I removed the old TV from the shelf and put up her new one. One little problem with that--when I reconnected the old cable wire, the connector was messed up and the TV wasn’t very clear. She thought the problem was with her cable company, but the TV just needed a new a cable. So I bought her one, thinking it’d be an easy fix. The cable from the TV goes outside to a connector. Problem one: I couldn’t unscrew the rusted connector and I needed a wrench. Which she doesn’t have. The next day, she had borrowed a wrench and I proceeded to switch out the cables. Problem two: the cable connector wouldn’t fit through the hole in the wall. So I had to cut the connector to remove the old cable, cut the connector on the new cable to put it through the wall, and reattach the connector inside the house. Finally, one day and one hour later, I got them connected and gracias a dios it worked. Unfortunately, now she thinks I’m some kind of handyman, which should be making you laugh right now. Her phone wasn’t working last week and she dragged me up to the terrace to look at the phone wires there. I didn’t see any problems. Fortunately the phone started working soon thereafter. Then the other day, she pointed out to me how her faucet is leaking. Since this is clearly out of my league, I just shrugged and returned to eating my tortilla and frijoles.
I’m not sure if anyone is watching world news, but all that rain I was complaining about last week is killing people. The big highway from Guatemala City to Xela, that’s less than five years old, is washed out in various places. Basically, I think they didn’t really have the money to properly build a highway on the side of a rainy mountain region in the the first place, and now they’re paying for it all over again, but now with lives. The school was supposed to receive about 10 new students on Sunday, but most of them were stuck in Guatemala City. Eventually, they all made it here, taking alternate routes that lasted 12 hours instead of the normal four via the highway. Oh, and it’s still the rainy season here for two more months.
On a brighter note, September 15th is, along with the cumpleaños de mi hermana, Guatemala’s Independence Day. The big event here in Xela is a week-long fair. I’m super-excited about this, and I hope the weather will cooperate a bit. Having grown up with the Ionia Free Fair, me gusta mucho fairs. Plus, I missed the Orange County and LA County fairs this year. I’m terribly curious about it and I’ll make sure to recap and post some pictures next week.
Besos y’all.
The main mercado here takes up several city blocks. One city block is the entire indoor area, then there are sidewalk vendors around it and many other streets. It’s like a super-duper-giant Walmart, but cheaper. It’s a shoppers paradise. New stuff, used stuff, hanging meat, fresh fruits and veggies, cooked foods, knockoff designer clothing, shoes (lots of shoes!), toilet paper toothpaste...name it, it’s there. What amazes me is that since there’s no place to store this stuff (for the street vendors anyhow) they pack all of this stuff up every single evening and haul it home with them. 
I’m not much of a shopper, so the only thing I’ve actually bought from there are bootleg DVDs. A buck twenty-five for a three pack. Sorry for not fattening your pockets, Hollywood friends. I’ve been watching tons of movies in Spanish. I understand the gist of the movies, but mostly because I have eyes, not because I’m understanding the majority of the dialogue. But it’s good exposure for me. The DVDs are of various quality. On one DVD, in Shrek 4 you could hear audience members talking and the camera kept going in-and-out of focus. Then How to Train Your Dragon was regular DVD quality, but in English. Then, Toy Story 3 had poor video, but the audio was fine. On another DVD, all three movies were perfect quality. It’s a bit of a crapshoot, but it’s tough to complain for the price.
I know I’ve talked about this before, but now they’re telling me that September is the rainiest month of the year. Help, I’m drowning! It has rained every single day that I’ve been here. And nothing dries out, so the mildew tends to stink my room. However, usually there’s a few hours of morning or afternoon sun, which I relish. Yesterday, there was no sun. The rain (and cold) were relentless, even in the south, at the ocean.
The water was warmer than the air. Notice all that white, frothy water? That’s because those are some loud, angry waves. You can’t go out very far, as there’s a very strong riptide that’s known to sweep people away often. It’s all black, coarse sand, since this land was made from volcanoes. In spite of the crappy weather, we had a nice time, and the other folks said the fish, which is tough to find in Xela, was really good.
Along with the weather, the many bus drivers here are still ridiculous. The ocean is about a 3.5 hour bus ride away from Xela. Of course, many of the roads are awful, but that didn’t stop our driver on the way home from practicing for the Indy 500. He should know that they don’t run that race when it’s raining (or on bumpy dirt roads) for a reason. The only time he slowed down was when the road had turned into a river, causing us to detour through a one-lane jungle road for a couple of miles. He was also ridiculously cute (what’s with cute guys being dangerous anyhow?), so I forgave him a bit. Still, I was glad we had to change buses at the halfway point.
On Thursday, teachers and students from the school were invited to a corn feast. There’s a tiny pueblo of indigenous people the school built stoves for many years ago. This place is literally in the middle of huge corn fields. (Oh, and our driver had to give pay some a group of men to pass on “their” crappy dirt road to get to the pueblo--my first extortion!) So now the indigenous group holds an annual gathering for the school, with a big serving of corn-on-the-cob, and a variety of condiments to choose from: lime, salt, queso, ketchup (salsa dulce), salsa verde, mayonaise. 
About 15 students and teachers made the trip, and I don’t think there are many more than that in the pueblo. At the beginning, the host guy talked for a while, thanking us for coming and other stuff in Spanish I couldn’t quite understand. Then a maestro from the school stood up and said thanks and more stuff I didn’t quite get. Then the host guy asked for a student to say a little something. In spite of ducking for cover, I got chosen. I’m not afraid of public speaking, but I did get a little tongue tied with the Spanish. I meant to say “Thank you for inviting us to eat corn with you.” But it came out more like “I like ice cream.” Oh well. I do love me some corn, but I could only manage to eat three pieces. A couple of people had a little competition and managed seven pieces each. I’m sure they paid for it later. Afterwards, there was some awkward seventh-grade type dancing with the locals, then the rain told us it was time to go home. Overall, one of my favorite experiences of this trip so far.
Wednesday was my day of fútbol. First, some students and a maestro rented a small roof-covered field for an hour. I’m not much of a soccer player, but it was fun to run around. Perhaps I’m seriously out of shape, but I’m choosing to blame my wind-sucking on the altitude. We’re going to try to make it a weekly thing, so I may be a fútbol superstar by the time I get back to the States. But it’s tough to not use my hands. I mean, whose idea was this stupid game? So then I went and watched the local club team, Xelaju, for $5. Tom, a Brit, says they’re awful, but I suspect they’re about as good as most US college teams. It was actually my first in-person soccer match. But seriously, whose idea was this stupid game? I liked the excitement of the World Cup, but I don't get it. I might as well watch some long-distance track-and-field, just a bunch of guys running around for a couple of hours.
But everyone else in the crowd sure did have a good time. The stadium probably holds about 5000 people, and it was a little over half-full. There was a big group of people at one end, shirts off, singing songs the whole time. At the other end, there was a band and another group of people chanting and setting off fireworks. As you can see from the picture, there are tall fences with barbed wire separating the fans from the field. Fans yell profanities at the other team constantly. Fortunately, there’s no alcohol allowed inside the stadium. I can’t even imagine. Also, there are no bathrooms, so guys would go to the corners and piss on the walls. I guess the poor girls just have to hold it. Anyhow, there was no score for the first 40 minutes and I was so bored that I was practicing conjugating verbs. Then, quickly Xela scored and the place erupted, of course. A minute later, the other team scored and it erupted again, this time with anger. Then it was halftime, and in spite of the late excitement, I was cold and tired, so I left. I heard the next day that Xela won 3-2 in a barnburner. I’d rather watch a barn burning.
I’ve got more, but dinner calls and I want to make it home before the $@!# rain starts again! Abrazos y’all.
On Sunday, a maestro took six students to see a finca de cafe. Guatemala has produced some of the best coffee in the world for a long time. We drove about an hour south of Xela to the other (warm) side of the mountains and we were suddenly in coffee heaven. Before we stopped to learn all about it though, we got in a little zip line action. 
Zip lines are a big tourist draw here to supplement the farm and it is a nice thrill. We only went on three of the 11 available lines that this particular coffee farm offers, but it was completely worth the $9.
We drove a short distance to the next farm, which is one of the few cooperative (non-profit) coffee farms in the country, making it a very appealing place to work. Thirteen families live there permanently and work the fields by hand. The harvest season is from September through January, bringing in more workers. All of the farms offer this seasonal work to families (women and children too), but apparently many of them exploit the workers and do not pay as well as they should in order to maximize profit. Coffee used to be the main export for Guatemala, but with the big coffee boon of the 90s, Brazil jumped in and drove prices way down all around the world. So much of the land of Guatemala was converted to other crops that are less labor intensive, leaving many families without jobs. Coffee is still one of the main exports of the country, and the organic movement is creating new opportunities for farms here to prosper.
Here are some coffee beans before they’ve been processed. The red ones are the “gold” coffee. You can easily peel the skin and there’s a gooey substance surrounding the bean that tastes like honey. The green and yellow beans are the duds. The skins are tough to peel and there’s no sweet gooey goodness inside. Not to be wasted, they’re used to make your instant coffee. (By the way to my Boo and coffee-addicted friends, don’t expect me to bring gold coffee home as a gift. Since most Guatemalans can’t afford it, it’s easier to find it in the US than it is here.) At this particular farm, there are a few crude machines (built by entrepreneuring Germans in the 30s) used to separate the peels, but most of the steps here are done by hand before the beans are sold to roasting companies.
The terrain for the coffee trees is beautiful, with banana trees and another type of bean tree interspersed to provide shade for the coffee. But I can’t imagine walking through this jungle, picking beans by hand. Also, there are these little black blood-sucking bugs that will eat you alive. They’re actually not as bad as mosquitoes because they don’t make you itch, but you don’t even notice them until you see all the blood on your arms. Like this:
Those little red bites ended up covering both of my arms by the end of the day. I had a long sleeved-shirt, but it was hot out and the bites don’t really hurt, so I sucked it up. Or, let them suck it up.
After the finca, we drove a little farther and hiked close to the summit of Volcan Santiaguito, where there’s a lake for swimming. We crossed a mad river, and I wish I could’ve gotten a better picture showing our fear, but it was much scarier than the zip line. We had to build a human chain to make it across.
The lake water was tranquil and slightly cold, but we had to do it. A couple of times, we felt like we were getting nibbled on in the water, which was disconcerting, especially after that new piranha movie just came out. But we survived.
The ride home was another adventure. I’ve mentioned the crazy driving here, and I still have no idea how there aren’t more mega-accidents. With the exception of the road to Guatemala City, there are only two-lane highways here and people are willing to pass each other about anytime, regardless of a mountain curve ahead or not. Even the buses do it. I guess when everyone is crazy, no one is. Just another day in Guatemala.
There are stray dogs everywhere in this country. It’s quite fascinating to study their culture. Many dogs just walk the streets alone, keeping their heads and tails down, avoiding any contact with people. Often, they’re in pairs and seem to be enjoying life a little bit more with a companion. But you’ll also see the occasional dog gang either roaming the streets together or huddled up sleeping together to stay warm. They’re really good at using the sidewalks, for the most part, and crossing busy streets without getting hit by a car. While I’m sure they’re full of fleas and many look pretty down on their luck, a lot of the street dogs appear healthy. Los perros survive mostly by digging through heaps of garbage bags that have been placed on sidewalks. This means that garbage is often strewn all over the place afterwards. You don’t mess with the dogs when they’re scrounging for their food. They also don’t mess with each other, as the alpha dogs always get first dibs by fending off others. Though I have seen a dog dash in to grab a garbage bag and take off with it while the alpha dog was busy with another bag.
Here’s a pack of dogs sleeping in the rain in the park. I enjoy watching how they interact with each other, though sometimes they get territorial with people too. I was walking alone at night last week and there was a gang of about six dogs hanging out on the sidewalk. Though I was walking in the street and not really paying them any attention, they were not happy with my presence. They barked a lot, which is normal, but then as I walked directly past them, they actually started coming at me, growling. Fortunately, I didn’t panic and just turned my back to them and kept walking. A kid a few hundred feet behind me got the same treatment, though he started running and they chased him a bit. I know that sometimes people carry rocks in their pockets to back them off. That’s the scariest moment I’ve had here, actually, but it’s the only time I’ve felt truly threatened. Also, I have seen some fights between dogs that are being territorial. When we went to work on the stove project on Wednesday, a woman had her dog walking with us and it kept getting attacked by the other dogs in the barrio. If it hadn’t been rolling with humans, I don’t think it would’ve made it out of there alive.
Of course, there are lots of people that own dogs too, and apparently many dogs do have a casa, they’re just not allowed inside. They are clearly breeding like crazy, as many of the females have teets that are ready for a litter. Though I’m not sure how the puppies would make it for long if the mothers are just trying to survive themselves. The males follow the females all over the place, trying to get a little action. (R-rated warning time a mi famiia!) Last week, there was a gang of dogs in the middle of a busy street, seemingly just hanging out.
Now, let me describe this picture a little more. The two brown dogs in the middle are connected. Not doggie-style, but trust me, they’re connected. The bigger one is the boy. The other dogs are growling at the cars and pedestrians, seemingly protecting the pair in the middle. Some cars honked, but mostly they just drove around the group. Annie and I watched this with bemusement for a few minutes, then stared in awe after they disconnected because that perro was hung like a caballo! Seriously impressive. So, they finished and the dog gang took off.
The perros just seem to be part of the culture in this country, for better or worse. And for the most part, it’s a peaceful coexistence with the humans. It’s certainly a good show.
- Me and 12 of my closest friends in Xela went to the water park Saturday. It had lots of great slides and wasn't very crowded. We took a chicken bus about and hour and a half south of Xela, in a much warmer climate. The bus ride through the mountains was glorious. Most of the day was slightly overcast, which was brilliant as it didn’t ever get too hot. However, I forgot to put on sunscreen, which was not brilliant. You would think that, as a pasty white guy for 38 years, I’d have sunscreen figured out. So much for evolution.
- When we got back from the water park around 7 pm, we had planned on going to the fútbol game between Xela and some other schmucks. But most people, including me, were pretty exhausted and bailed. It’s definitely on the list though and we’ll try again in a couple of weeks. It’s a big party before and after the game, but no drinks are allowed in the stadium itself. The city was eerily quiet for those two hours, as everyone was either at the game or watching it on TV. Xela won, by the way.
- One of the things that simultaneously frustrates me and makes me happy is that there are very few behemoth stores here. I love that big cookie-cutter Walmart-type stores are rare. It’s every little-man for himself, with mom-and-pop shops dominating the streets. On the other hand, today I had to go to four different stores to find Chapstick.
- I love how many motorcycles are in this town, but they’re crazy. They pack as many people as possible on them. It’s not unusual to see a dad and his two kids in their school uniforms, one in front and one in back, hanging on for dear life. I just saw a dad with a kid that was maybe two years-old in front of him, not able to hang on himself, just being cradled by dad. This would be a dangerous scenario in any circumstance, but add the fact that the streets here are awful, and I have no idea how those kids aren’t flying off all the time. But hey, at least they’re going to school.
- Because we’re also a bit crazy, my amigos Annie de Los Angeles, Chris de San Francisco, and I want to rent motorcycles and take a trip. Unfortunately, Xela’s not a touristy hotspot, so it doesn’t have a place that rents motorcycles. But we hope to take a trip to Panajachel soon, where they do have a place that rents them. May the motorcycle gods love us.
- My housemate, Kelly de Minnesota, has gone home, leaving me and Maria de Xela alone. It was nice to have another person around to chat with at home in Spanish, so I’ll miss her. But, she had a room with it’s own bathroom. So yup, I’m in my third room in three weeks. I’ve downgraded my bed again, though it’s not nearly as bad as the first one. And not sharing a bathroom with five other people? Priceless!
- Two weeks down, seven to go. And I feel a bit overwhelmed by how much Spanish I don’t know. If my original goal was to graduate from the School of Spanish Fluency, I’m probably in 2nd grade right now and I’ll be happy to make it to middle school. I think I would need a solid six months, at least, to graduate. I’m frustrated because I keep looking up the same words over and over in the dictionary. Why won’t stuff just sink in once and for all? Stupid 38 year-old brain!
- I’m off to my final doctor’s appointment for the diarrhea study I participated in. Thank goodness all is back to normal. I’m tempted to eat some street food though, because I’ll miss the $20 US per visit they paid me. That buys a heck of a lot of chocobananos. Besos y’all!
So, I could easily go to parts of Los Angeles, Detroit, or Sheridan, Michigan, take some pictures and tell you that I’m in a third world country. I showed some pictures the other day showing living conditions in Xela, but to be fair there are parts of Xela that are quite nice and “American.” Like, the mall.
There is a healthy middle-class in Xela, as it hosts several universities and hospitals. However, the disproportion of poor families to families that can afford to go to the mall is the biggest difference compared to back home. While there are certainly pockets of poverty in the US, here there are only pockets of prosperity. And even most of the middle class folks here drive smokin’ (not in the hot way) cars on the terrible streets.
One thing I’m very happy about is that there are enough middle-class people here to support a water park. Xocomil is about an hour away from Xela by bus, in a warmer/sunnier valley, and a couple of people from my school said it’s awesome. Oh, and it only costs $13 to get in. A group of us are going on Saturday and though it’s not part of my mission here, I’m looking forward to a day of divertido, especially after fighting my stomach all week.
The medicine that the doctors gave me for this study I’m participating in has helped me feel much better, but I continue to have stomach issues and can’t ever be too far from the baño. They think I have amoebas, which the medicine from the study doesn’t affect, so now I have a new medicine to take. Still, I am back to eating Maria de Xela’s delicious food and also the serious goodness that is chocobananos. They’re everywhere here: frozen bananas dipped into dark or white chocolate or BOTH, plus nuts. It’s basically a banana split on a stick. This new addiction is currently bumping helado out of the top of Pepe’s food chain, believe it or not. Call it temporary insanity. Unless you’ve tried one.
I’m now thoroughly off topic and yearn to run out and get a chocobanano. I’ll leave you with a picture of the little-used sports complex and Santa Maria, the gorgeous volcano that overlooks the city.
Oh! Not quite done. Also, I was reading Guatemalan newspaper and was happy to be able to check out the baseball standings back home.
Sorry, I couldn’t get a clearer picture. I know it’s a long shot, but I sure hope the Tigres can catch the Medias Blancas and Mellizos in the last 40-something games of the season!
