Return of the Blogger!

Mid-May - I boated back to tierra firma alone, whipping past flooded jungle and puttering through a sea of waterlilies, strange long-necked birds popping up every few feet. Saying goodbye to friends in Bocas del Toro was a little heart-wrenching; we had managed to get beyond the tourist facade and found inspiring friends and a tempting way of life where friends, work, sun and dance are never more than a leisurely spin away.
I bused to and then crossed the Panama-Costa Rica border, a long planked bridge, the most interesting border I've crossed. A very sweaty day.

I stopped in Puerto Viejo, remembering it from a sophomore year ecotourism trip with my school. Arriving alone in a dark and rainy place filled with old memories was unpleasant and I regretted having left Bocas del Toro. I trudged about 1/2 mile to RJ's Rockin' hostel, a mosaic palace of hammocks, tents and unfriendly groups of travelers. I rented a hammock and the next day went on a bike ride to Manzanita to go snorkeling and beaching. Visibility was pretty shabby, though I did have a shark encounter while swimming by myself it scared the pants off me. I met a friendly couple from Vancouver and we ate dinner at a basic soda (restaurant) in someone's kitchen and watched a telenovela.
A half a day in busy, concrete San Jose and I was ready to move on. After choosing the cheapest and most stressful way to get to the airport, I was bound for Guatemala City and the last month of my travels. Costa Rica was frustrating - almost everyone responded to my Spanish with English and I met gaggles of US tourists, in contrast to South America's 6 or so. I could tell I was getting closer to the US. Locals were more wary of foreigners and I sensed a mix of contempt and deference to the tourism machine.
A shuttle sped me through the miles of urban reality of Guatemala City to the tourist enclave of Antigua.
When I first went to Guatemala with Global Visionaries in 2005, Antigua was our base for 1 1/2 weeks of homestays and work projects - but I experienced a complete different city. For me Antigua was a worn Catholic town with soft colors, friendly locals and the 6 or so blocks we walked everyday; this time around it was a loud bustle of moving bodies where tourists sipped Guatemala's finest coffee from throwaway cups to cure a lingering hangover and packs of school kids in uniforms descended on the parque central or walked arm-in-arm down the cobblestones.

Over the weekend I went to Monterrico, a town on the Pacific Coast of Guatemala. Guatemala's seaside gem, Monterrico boasts black sand beaches and a violent ocean bent on slamming you into said sand. At sunset and sunrise, the sunlight filters through the low, thick air to create a glowing sky of orange and pink. Sunday morning at dawn we took a small boat out into the mangroves, a unique habitat that occurs only in brackish water (combo of fresh and salt water) and is the home to many species of heron.



Stunningly alert.

We accidentally chose the hotel that turns into the discoteca on Saturday nights. Abandoning any hope of sleep while the beats shook the walls, we ventured out to the beach and the dance floor. I had some interesting and frustrating conversations in spanish and english with weekend vacationers from Guatemala City. One man denied that the indigenous people living in Guatemala are Mayan because "the Mayan were intelligent." I excused myself.


My aunt, Catherine, arrived in Antigua and we took off adventuring. One afternoon we climbed the volcano Pacaya. A sweaty and steep affair to break through the cloud layer and a step into sci fi as we picked our way over the shoe-melting volcanic rock to get up close to the still flowing lava.
From up here we could see the 3 volcanoes that ring Antigua, perfect blue cones that seemed to float in a sea of clouds.














Lago Atitlàn from the village of San Marcos.
Kaq'chik'el is the language spoken on the this side of Lago. San Marcos is right on the border of the Mayan Kaqchikel state, a rival of the K'iche Maya states. The Kaqchikel actually helped the Spanish conquer the K'iche in the early 1530s.The highlands of Guatemala stretch north from Atitlàn and the people here and in Huehuetenango experienced some of the worst of the genocide in the 1980s.
Haunting views of the volcanoes at dusk.


Catherine and I took a chicken bus (relocated US school bus) up a winding road to the town of Sololà for the Friday market. Very misty and crowded.
Large stands with shellfish, mushrooms, herbs, strange fruits and the usual vegetables from the region. Every inch of land here is cultivated, even the steep slopes around the Lago. Deforestation is a major problem in Guatemala; forests have been cleared for agriculture, firewood and cattle. These practices cause erosion, polluted water sources and a scarred landscape.

Sunday morning Catherine and I hopped a series of chicken buses from Panajachel to Chichicastenango to visit the biggest market in the highlands. The market was as I remembered; crazy big and noisy with sellers and tourists, and the hidden heart where locals eat and sell to each other. Taking crowded buses was the most memorable part - arriving at junction, squeezing past bodies to disembark and being herded to passing bus by a jumble of dusty men. Everyone wants you to get where you're going and the forced closeness of mashing 3 to a seat and 2 in the aisle is strangely comforting.

We walked around for awhile looking for deals and getting an idea of the prices and haggling techniques. Several times we stopped for an agua mineral (fizzy water) to escape the vendors. I found myself guilty of leading on potential sellers because I wanted to chat in Spanish, only to let them down when I cheerfully declined their wares. I bought a reggaeton mix with the most popular jams of the minute and a CD by Manà, a Mexican pop group.




Catherine bought a couple mantle pieces and hangings that are very beautiful and we befriended the buyers and their children. Most vendors are selling someone else's weaving, a hub of merchandise. We visited the lakeside town of San Antonio to see the weaving cooperatives where the artists can eliminate the middleman and keep more of the profit. Very friendly people, also very good charismatic salespeople.




Monday morning I left for Antigua and Catherine stayed in Panajachel for another day of the cooperatives. The ride was long and twisted and I arrived just in time to join Ruthie and some Guatemalan high school students for their construction project. They were preparing the site of a future schoolroom in a neighboring village for the Global Visionaries US and Guatemalan students to construct in June and July. I had worked with them 2 weeks prior and had a blast meeting these kids and hauling bags of sand up a hill. Knowing I was about to explore Guatemala from a more touristy position, I wanted to have another dusty bonding experience before the wonderful feeling of connecting-beyond-culture left me. Working hard and laughing with my Guatemalan peers reminded me of our place in the human family and the joy of fighting toward a common goal.
Pounding the pavement for the last 2 weeks of my travels, I began to see the end. But it wasn't over yet...