March 21, 2010 to April 9, 2010
The
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Guatemala was the first place we began to meet other travelers who had just come from “that really great place." So we talked to them and wrote down their suggestions and began the initial planning of where to go next. That next location became Antigua, Sacatepéquez, Guatemala. Especially since we were really close to Semana Santa (Holy Week), the biggest celebration in Guatemala. We took a bus to Guatemala City and spent a couple of nights in a nice but unremarkable hotel in a not so nice but also unremarkable part of town. While we sussed out the best way to get to Antigua.
As usual there were several modes of travel available from Guatemala City to Antigua. The two main contenders became the direct shuttle for tourists or the more adventurous option of the ‘chicken bus’. Not feeling particularly touristy, we grabbed our gear, hailed a taxi and shortly found ourselves on a garishly painted, radio blaring, haphazardly driven and eventually over packed North American style school bus, with about 100 of our new ‘closest friends' ... did I mention it was crowded! Not wanting to separate from our packs and not really fitting into the ONE seat with the size of my backpack, the ‘conductor’ attempted to charge me for two seats. I quickly rearranged my worldly possessions into the most uncomfortable configuration I could manage to save the extra fare and get that 101st customer on the bus.
Once we got close to Antigua, it seemed we had picked both the best possible and worst ever time to arrive. A bus that normally would have taken us directly to the city centre could get no closer than a mile out parked behind 30+ other chicken buses, with more coming in, on the side of the road. So we shouldered our backpacks and began the long hot walk into Antigua. As we neared a decision point, we met a tourism representative who wanted to ‘help’ us find a place to stay. His ‘help’ entailed bad mouthing the hostel we had been recommended and advocating that we stay with a Guatemalan family he knew. Despite being tempted by his offer, we were not enticed by his pushiness and the only real benefit he provided was a Xeroxed map.
We found our hostel fairly quickly and despite the crowded city were able to procure a series of beds for the initially short length of our first stay. Yes, you read that correctly, our first stay. When we arrived it was still at least a week to the Holy Week celebration that we had come for. Despite the pleasantness of our chosen hostel, it made more sense to take a quick jaunt over to Lago Atitlan and then come back for the festivities, so we did.
Lago Atitlan, and the cities surrounding it, endure as one of our most enjoyable stays both times we were there. Yes, you also read that correctly, we enjoyed it so much that we came back to it after Easter. However, let’s do this remembrance in some kind of orderly way.
So back we go to Antigua to experience one of the strangest religious customs (other than the church in Chamula, Mexico) we couldn’t have imagined. First envision walking down cobbled streets where every 10 feet or so a group of people work to create a beautiful piece of art from colored sawdust, flowers, flower petals, seeds, grasses, reeds, candles and other items I’m sure I didn’t recognize. Visualize these beautiful alfombras (meaning carpets) being trod upon by a procession, at least three city blocks in length, of purple robed men and boys waving censers, carrying framed and lighted images of saints and martyrs, pulling the generator cart (to power those lighted images), two sets of musicians playing sombre marching music and even some men dressed as Roman Soldiers. The focal point of this procession is a GIANT wooden platform with statues of saints, angels and the central figure of Christ carrying the cross. A platform carried on the shoulders of more than 80 men, with a constant rotation of fresh shoulders. A platform with statues whose sheer height is so large that a separate group of men walk beside it with long trident like poles to raise the power lines above the highest points. A platform so long that turning a narrow street corner involves the subtle backwards and forwards motion we associate with parallel parking in the tiniest of spots. Now imagine a second platform, slightly smaller but still impressive, carried by at least 40 women dressed in black, with a statue of the virgin Mary. Try to realize the uncountable number of backup players this procession required in additional people waiting to step in and replace anyone who becomes tired as they work their way through the streets, slowly and methodically for approximately 24 hours. With that many people involved in the procession you might expect no one to be watching but each street we saw was absolutely full of spectators. As Gregory puts it ‘This swaying Jesus caterpillar galleon working its way through the streets across the oceans of intricately designed sawdust carpet is a site to behold.’
One of the other reasons we had ventured to Antigua was it’s proximity to Pecaya, an active volcano, and the story we had heard about camping nearby and viewing it at night. So once the festivities of Semana Santa were over, we quickly booked our excursion through the very hostel we were staying at, Ox Base Camp. Our small group of 5 adventurers and one guide set out on a sunny afternoon with loaded packs and freshly bought hiking poles (a thriving business amongst the children of the local village and an enterprise more in renting than in actual sales!) to hike to a spot just beyond the edge of the lava field. We set up our tents with sleeping bags and rested till almost sundown before we began the awesome experience of the final ascent up the lava field. The stark comparison of black lava to green fields of flowers and trees. The crunch underfoot that sounds like walking on eggshells or broken glass. The popping sound as it erupts so close and yet so far. None of these things prepare you for the sheer alien nature of a mountain spewing molten lava from it’s pores. Breathing it’s sulfurous breath in your face. While you stand on porous ‘ground’ that is literally being eaten away from underneath and melting your shoes in the process. Nothing can top the experience of defying all that unnatural nature by nakedly spinning fire you have lit from that lava. Gregory adds ‘One of the more frightening experiences of my life!’
So sated by our adventure we returned to camp and then Antigua, again without any idea of what to do next. Fortunately we did not flounder long, as we met Aaron, a fellow traveller, headed to Lago Atitlan. Since we had only seen a small portion of the area surrounding it and I had read that it had a decent dive spot for pretty cheap, we hitched our traveling wagon to his and set out once again for Lago Atitlan.
The group opted for the cheaper and more adventurous route of chicken bus, only this time the adventure was more adventurous and much more costly. I had been carrying a sleeping pad I purchased in San Francisco because I am a fairly delicate sleeper. The additional bulk of this pad essential created the space of two backpacks on my pack. Not wanting to be charged for additional seating or sitting uncomfortably for the entire ride, Gregory persuaded me to detach it from my pack and place it into his care. He put it very securely into the luggage rack above us and we started our journey. Unfortunately, we were not on a direct bus to our destination and in the rushed change of getting off one bus and down the street to catch the next one, we all forgot about my sleeping pad until the bus was out of sight. I lamented the loss and we all laughed about the eventuality of it all and hoped that it ended up in a good place where it would be appreciated. Shortly thereafter I reached into my pocket to get my camera, to snap a random roadside picture, when the true cost our trip was discovered. I had been pick pocketed on the bus ... did I mention it was jam packed! I lost my camera and my backup wallet where I had been keeping an extra credit card and the larger amount of money so as not to flash it around. In the long run, the ride with all the bus transfers cost the same as a shuttle would have and I lost over $500 in stuff and money (mostly stuff!) I was fortunate not to have lost my debit card or passport, but still felt fairly violated.
The area surrounding Lago Atitlan was absolutely beautiful. The weather was sunny but comfortable. The flowers were in brilliant bloom. The lake water, it’s reported, was cool and refreshing. Aaron hung out with us for quite a while, and with him we kayaked to nearby San Marcus. The excursion across was good fun and exercise. Exploring San Marcos and finding a new wonderful hostel was great. Then we started the voyage back across the lake. After a full day of power boat traffic the lake was now a roaring, rolling tempest. Gregory valiantly guided us back home with constant words of encouragement and insightful uses of paddling techniques, not to mention humorous banter as we eyed the ‘Guatemalan vultures’ circling our boat waiting for us to give up. I’m positive he could have easily made the voyage without my extra weight and ‘help’ but I sure wouldn’t have made it without his positive attitude and cheerful repartee ... did I mention I can’t swim.
After a full night’s sleep, we packed our bags and returned to the little town of San Marcos to stay in an amazing hilltop hostel called Xamanek. As you might have guessed from the description it was not an easy place to get to but it was well worth the pilgrimage as the view was spectacular. We snagged a great open air loft bedroom, slightly separated from the rest of the dorm areas and woke up to sunlight, birdsong and a beautiful view of the lake every morning. This made it really hard to leave Guatemala but leave we must and sooner than we wanted to even though it was for a very good reason. However, one more exciting thing had to happen before we could go. One night we came home to find our lovely hostel locked up tight with all our stuff still in our room. After checking all the doors, Gregory climbed the tree next to the building and let me in. We spent an extremely restless night expecting some kind of trouble for breaking in even though our stuff was still there. When morning came, we promptly packed up and left.
There are just a few things I have left out of Guatemala and so they go here!
We didn’t go diving as I thought we would. Some of that was the trauma of kayaking and nearly ‘dying’. Some of it was my inability to want to learn to swim. Most of it was deciding that the lake was just not exciting enough to make diving enjoyable for Gregory.
We did spin fire for our dinner at a restaurant in San Marcus. We didn’t get any pictures because we were performing. Some people in the crowd said they would send us pictures but that hasn’t happened yet. We were also offered a share of the tips from the musicians but that didn’t manifest either.
We ran into Kim and Will (from San Cristobál) the first time we were in San Pedro. I got to hang out with them for most of a day while Gregory went cliff jumping. When Kim mentioned she was planning to cut her hair, I imposed upon her to cut mine as well since I had previously admired her pixieish haircut while in Mexico. It was one of the best haircut memories I have, partially since halfway through she said “Oops” and partially because it turned out really great. We meant to meet up with them again, but when we got back they had moved on.
Kim introduced us to a really awesome jewelry maker named Leah. Leah makes swirly twirly rings and things from forks and semiprecious stones. I found a stone I liked and asked her if she could make me a ring that was more swirly than twirly and she said she could. We almost didn’t get a chance to reconnect before we left but after fleeing the scene of our break in, we spent one more night in San Pedro. I found her late in the afternoon, she showed me the ring, which I loved and she polished it off to be picked up later that night. In retrospect I would have had her make me a bracelet instead since I can’t seem to make big rings and traveling work together. But ce’st la vie!
Next up ~ A swift journey straight to see one of our most favorite people! Where we helped unearth the Mother Hearth and experienced Ayahuacsca.
August 7 & 8 ~ No biking today. Internet and blog writing mostly and yet still no actual blog to show. We do discover that Dutch soft serve tastes exactly like frozen whipped cream. Very yummy. Also discover one of the reasons the camp ground is so very packed. They have an annual event similar to karaoke that seems to be a big deal. Gregory checks it out and reports back. [It] “seemed quite silly but the group involvement was amusing to watch. Apparently last year the contestant who won the event was NOT from the Liesbos inner circle and created quite a stir … so [even if we had gotten there in time to sign up] we were not allowed to enter the show.”
