¿Que busca?

Well another two weeks have flown by, and we’ve somehow been in Guatemala for just over two months now according to authorities and the stamp on my passport. Last week was a bit hectic.. Ola, the volunteer coordinator at Trama was away traveling with visiting friends, so I was sort of pretending to be her. It would have been fine, but around 4-5 different girls came in asking me what they could do to help out with volunteering, and I didn’t really know what to say, but I think it ended up fine. Maybe I’ll actually be able to finish weaving my scarf this week—we’ll see.

Last week was also a slow week for English students. Both Alicia and Karin told me they wouldn’t be able to come to due to other responsibilitie, and Vinicio, the slow 8-yearold only showed up one day the whole week. (Not that I’m complaining about that.) Seriously though, how am I supposed to make this kid learn anything whatsoever? Ugh.

Also, one day we went to this coffeehouse called El Cuartito (which has good coffee but is a kind of a place for pretentious foreigners to hang out and feel like they’re in New York City instead of you know, Central America,) to see this movie they were showing called Estrellas de la Linea. It’s about these prostitues in Guatemala City who formed a soccer team and were trying to gain respect for themselves with all the violence that had been shown to them throughout the years. It was really pretty good and interesting, and some of the people involved with the film were in attendance, including this elderyly woman named Marina who was by far my favorite. She sang a few songs for us, and I was glad to see that she had a new prosthetic eye.

So this weekend, we cancelled our Friday duties and reluctantly escaped to the tourist haven known as Antigua. We still hadn’t been and we figured it was something we had to see, no matter our reservations. Parts of the trip were really fun, and parts of it honestly were just.. obnoxious. The bus rides were so-so. The ride to Chimaltenango was filled with construction, but despite that was not so rough. From Chimal to Antigua we were in a packed little bus, and as the bus neared Antigua, I could immediately detect the change in the air.

To put things into perspective, Antigua is like the Disneyland of Guatemala. There are tourists everywhere.. nearly everyone there is a tourist who isn’t working. Lots of old fat tourists with their camcorders and sweaters tied around their necks speaking in loud English about the jade store on the corner. And then there are “language students.” And I would think it’s hard to learn Spanish in Xela with the amount of foreigners around them, but in Antigua it would be even worse. I’m not sure you’d learn anything. So, the good things I can say about Antigua: amazing restaurants and beautiful buildings. Also, garbage cans! I think there are maybe two garbage cans outside in all of Xela, but hot damn, Antigua had garbage cans everywhere.. and maybe just one street dog. It also resembled the French quarter in New Orleans or a small city in Spain—both for good reasons I suppose. But it did remind me a lot of the French Quarter (except safer), with the small streets and tourists and horses and buggies. Yes.



So speaking of the restaurants, this is what we dined on in Antigua!: Schnitzel sandwich at a supposed Austrian restaurant, Greek food at … a Greek restaurant, Peruvian food (yeah Cindy, have you heard of causa?) and Korean food (yeah, Sarah.) which was really authentic actually since there were only Korean people in there! Yeah.
We got kimbab which is kind of like sushi and oh so tasty after months of not having sushi.



Man. Anyway.. Most of these restaurants looked fairly fancy as well. And in the Peruvian restaurant the waiter even brought us our bottled water and unscrewed the caps for us!! Like it was a fancy bottle of wine or something! Ha, it was funny. I tried not to laugh.

We also explored some of the old church and monestery ruins sites which were really gorgeous and interesting and we got some fantastic pictures. At times I felt like I was back in the Alhambra in Granada or in Segovia.







The room we stayed at in Antigua was really cheap though. It cost us a combined $5/night, and we actually ran into Ola from Trama, her husband, their traveling companions, and their 2-month old puppy there. Random.

We went into a store or two. One was really cool even though it was over-priced, because it was like a Mayan weaving warehouse, and had tons of huipiles from various towns throughout the country, which was awesome for me. Ryan was also able to dress up as a todosantero, since he really wants one of these hats:



We also decided to see what the Artesanías market was like. And wow, was it ever awful. Essentially every stall consisted of the same items, and everytime you passed, a woman would say “Hola…que busca?” occasionally followed by someone saying in English, “What are you looking for?” Nothing, seriously. It left a really bad taste in my mouth and we didn’t stick around long. Needless to say, we didn’t buy anything in Antigua besides food and accommodation. Hmph. We were pretty much ready to leave early Sunday morning. Our impression of Antigua was soured even further when we wandered into the “real” market to buy some fruit, and I was looking through the little oranges to pick 5, since we were told they were 5 for 3 quetzales, and the woman eventually made some noise and said we weren’t allowed to choose! Uh, so we just left. She was really rude.

With that, we hopped on the bus for Chimaltenango, ready to leave Antigua in the dust. We decided that instead of going straight back to Xela, we would make a detour in the town of Tecpán and see the Kaqchikel ruins of Iximché. I was actually kind of curious to see Tecpán, as I’d just recently read a book about Mayan weaving, and the woman who wrote it, had done all her research in the town. It was cool to see the people walking around in what I recognized as Tecpán traje. It also happened to be their market day, so we checked that out for a bit, buying some bananas from a much friendlier man. There was a band playing, and it had a good vibe. We eventually found a microbus to hop in that would take us to the ruinas. We were supposed to be 25 quetzales each to enter since we were foreigners, but since he couldn’t break 100 quetzal bill, he let us in for the price of only one.. which was pretty awesome.

The ruins site of Iximché was very peaceful. It had beautiful scenery in the mountains and was fairly large. A gentle breeze was in the air, and it was so nice to see lots of trees again. I realize that is one thing I really miss her in Xela—a park with lots of trees. So we climbed a few small structures, saw a Mayan ritual site, and walked down part of a trail in a forest. It was all quite gorgeous. You will also be happy to learn that while our enlightened leader George W. was visiting this fine country for a whole 23 hours, he visited these same ruins. I guess because of its proximity to the capital, and that he couldn’t stay an extra day to see Tikal. Interesting.




After leaving Iximché, we ate an amazingly filling lunch of sausages which included rice, soup, half an avocado!, and some tomatoes and onions. It was tasty. We were ready to hop on another bus that would take us back to Xelaland. We had to wait by the side of the road for 25 minutes for a bus that was Xela-bound. One finally came, and we had no idea as we stepped aboard that it would be the bus ride from hell! Well, we should have had some idea when we got on and there were no seats and we were forced to stand at the very front of the bus, where Ryan’s shirt actually got caught in the door for a second. We were able to move back a little further soon. The driver asked for our fare and said things to us in English which infuriated us to no end.. ! First of all, we hadn’t said anything in English the whole time, secondly, we only spoke in Spanish and never indicated that we didn’t understand and that he should please deliver us some broken English that is about on par with my 8 year old student’s. Thanks. Third, how does he even know we’re English-speaking. We could be Spaniards of French or German or hell even really light skinned Guatemalans. Have you SEEN a picture of their president Berger? (Go take a look). We only responded to him in Spanish and at one point after I finally found a seat to squish into, he said to Ryan in English, “please, sir, could you move back”? To which Ryan responded really angrily in fast Spanish. The guy thought he was mad at being asked to move back, but really it was the English. Later he apologized to him, but again, in English. Ha. Ridiculous.

My situation wasn’t much better, with my back smushed against a really overweight man, and sitting next to a father and his small child who threw up not once, but twice next to me. Awesome. Thank goodness the ride only lasted a quick two hours. We arrived home exhausted but happy to be back in Xela.

I apologize for the overwhelmingly bitter tone of this entry, but it’s good to get out. Even though it may not seem like it, I’m still glad we went on the trip so that we could have the experience and perspective. We might just stay in Xela next weekend, though. To be continued…

Todo lo que hago, lo hago por ti

So things have been going all right here in jolly ole Xela. The weater has been rather cool and cloudy lately, though. It’s truly hard to believe that I have almost been here for two months already, but that’s the way time works. In just a little over a month, Ryan and I will probably begin our slow ascent back to the country we call home. Meanwhile, Bush is making his “Latinamerican tour.” Splendid. It’s like no matter where you go, you can’t escape the guy. At least I didn’t see him. But I digress.. we’re just starting to form ideas about our trip back home—most likely seeing the Río Dulce/Lívingston area of Guatemala before heading up to Tikal and the Péten (of course), and then swinging into Belize for just a few days before we get to Mexico where we’ll be for several weeks. I’m really excited about this trip, even though I think at times it will be exhausting. It’ll be great to be able to connect the dots, so to speak, between here and home. And I’ll get to return to San Luis Potosí where I lived for seven weeks, and Guanajuato that I enjoy so immensely as well. We’ll most likely be crossing the border at Piedras Negras which is purportedly the “birthplace of the nacho”!!! which excites me way more than it should. Then it’ll be onto Texas where I’ve actually never been, and should be interesting in its own right, if only for comparison’s sake.

But things have been going fine here. I began weaving my scarf last week, which is really fun, but difficult at times. A great experience though. After watching this woman trying to learn how to weave for several days last week, I kind of picked up some of the steps already. I’ve been putting more time in at Trama as well. I like it there lots.

So after the long week of teaching and sometimes not teaching when students don’t show up, and volunteering, Ryan and I decided to wake up early, armed with an immune system full of malaria pills, insect repellant, and sunscreen tocatch buses to the Pacific coast. The first bus was okay, except that we unknowingly got on one that took the long road instead of the shorter one. We had to change buses in a dismal, hot, humid, wasteland known as Coatepeque to mapmakers and locals alike. There we hopped on a bus with a sign that said “Tilapa”—which is good, cause that’s where we wanted to go.

Oh and the bus rides were eventful as always. Of course. I don’t think I’m going to miss second-class buses in Guatemala when I’m done here.. or maybe I will. I don’t know. But anyway, as usual, people get on trying to sell “aguas” (which are just soft drinks), “chuchitos” (tamales), “piña, sandía, papaya!” (pineapple, watermeon, papaya) and other lovely things. Then people get on making sales pitches. We heard a guy trying to sell foot cream, and then later a man selling little pens with dangling things on them—3 for 5 quetzales! On the way back an annoying kid started out with this huge pitch about how he and his friend were from some other town and poor and trying to raise money and then he said, so what do we have behind door number 1? Da da da da… japanese peanuts, in a little bag. Just what we need. When he got up to Ryan, he looked at him and said, in a terrible accent, “Do you want to speak English?” to which Ryan just replied, “No.” and then the guy said, “hablas español?” to which Ryan just said, “Claro.” And the guy walked away uttering, “Yo hablo tres idiomas!” (I speak three languages).. like anyone cares or asked. Freak. I love the subtle racism we’re constantly on the receiving end of. Wait, no I don’t. But it surely puts things in perspective. Also, on every bus ride we take there are at least several indigenous people who throw trash out the window of the bus, which truly leads me to believe that old commercial we had at home where people litter out of their car, and the Native American on the side of the road sheds a single tear, is a complete and utter lie!

So we finally got to Tilapa. It was kind of a sad little place, with several rows of comedores, and visitors walking around. Although we were the only foreigners I saw there. After paying 2 quetzales each to use these dirty bathrooms, we decided to try and catch a bus to this other town called Tilapita we’d read about. We found a man to take us out in a lancha (little boat). Tilapa wasn’t even right on the beach, as it was at first surrounded by a little swampy nature reserve, you’d have to take a boat to cross anyway. We floated past pelicans dipping into the water, palm trees, and other people in their brightly colored boats.



It only took a few minutes to arrive in Tilapita, and I already felt transported into another world. This, I realized, is what I imagined Central America to be like. I’d been in Guatemala for nearly two months, but this was honestly the first time I really had a notion of my place on the globe. I could finally picture where I was in relation to everything else.

There were no roads or paths resembling anything I knew as one in Tilapita. It was just all sand. Everywhere you walked was sand. These were the paths. Little open air houses filled the town, the likes of I’d only seen in books or movies before. This was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I can’t stress that enough. Pigs and chickens roamed freely, strutting down the little sand streets.



By this time we were hot and exhausted, and the dark sand kept burning my feet—so we found a place to stay for the night, perhaps the only such place in the whole town. After putting our bags down and changing into swimsuits, we trudged down to the beach which was just around the corner. Gorgeous. It was simply gorgeous. The only other time I’d been to the Pacific was during my stay near Los Angeles, so this was simply breathtaking. When we arrived, we pretty much had the whole pristine stretch of beach to ourselves. The water was amazingly warm, the undertow stronger than I’m used to, and with crashing waves upon the shore. This made for some wonderful water to play in, and we basically spent the rest of the day at the beach until sunset.




Eventually some more people showed up, but not many. A few stray dogs ran around, some looking sicker than others. The sunset was really beautiful and I have the pictures to prove it:



Feeling spent, we headed back to the hotel, changed, and got some dinner, right at the hotel. I had the fish and Ryan had the shrimp. It wasn’t bad. Just a bit overpriced, but what were we going to do? And I guess in the real world it wouldn’t be an expensive meal, just in the Guatemalan world. Oh, my mind is so warped. After dinner we called it a night and fell asleep quite easily.

The next day we headed to the beach again to play a little bit more before heading back to Xela. There’s not too much to say about the return trip except that the buses were equally if not more excruciating than the way to the beach. I slept during the bus ride to Coatepeque, but from Coatepeque to Xela we had to take a Xelaju company bus, who I hate! They are the worst company we’ve come across. Basically they don’t leave town until people are already sitting three to a seat and some people are standing in the aisle. Which means they pick up even more people on the sides of the roads, so that the entire bus is full, people down the aisles from the door to the back, so that the slimy jerks can make as much money as possible. At least this time we paid the proper amount, since I asked the lady next to me how much the trip costs, so they couldn’t swindle me. Ha! And Ryan had to sit next to this rude couple that would hardly give him any room.. ugh, all the while having to listen to music like, “Todo lo que hago, lo hago por ti” (Everything I do, I do it for you, that awful sappy ballad song by god only knows who) Those buses really make me hate humanity for a few hours.. but when we got back we treated ourselves to some ice cream. So all was well.

Then when we got back to our room Ryan saw a tiny scorpion but killed it before even telling me about it, so I didn’t even see it. But yeah, scary. And thus concludes the story of my weekend. I hope yours was equally enjoyable. Now, it’s back to the grindstone.