Bright lights, big city
Electricity was out, Sunday. Surprisingly, it affected the city very little; to us, it mainly meant no hot water. I went to mass with Adela, in the morning. They have their own generator, so the nativity scene was still aglow. I've been to a Catholic mass before, it wasn't very different here. The church was quite beautiful. We went to the hot springs, that afternoon, and as we rode back down into the city, cheered from the back of the pickup truck when we realized the meaning of the city lights below.
A big part of the texture of living here is the sounds. All day... the sound of diesel engines and old cars swing past. In the evenings, the lullabye is often a combination of goodnights from the street dogs, and fireworks from... who knows who. Adela likes to listen to syrupy love songs, all day, so we often have those to listen to... like Camisa Negra by Juanes. In the clubs, we're more likely to hear Latino hip-hop, originally from Puerto Rico, called "Reggaeton." Probably the most popular example, right now is "Gasolina," by Daddy Yankee. It really grows on you. I think I found it on Amazon. For the curious, click here, then scroll down to the music samples and click on Gasolina.
There are tons of markets, and they each seem to have their own character... Mercado Democracia has a bit of everything... local fruits and vegetables, meat, pirated CD's and DVD's, hardware, pharmacies, small appliances, etc.... each in a small stall or a small store. A further walk can take you to Minerva with its fruits, vegetables, and used clothing that no one bought at the Salvation Army or Value World. Just to give you an idea... $2 for a DVD of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (still in theaters,) 40 cents per pound for strawberries (but you have to figure out how to kill ameobas that might be lurking in the skin... we used rum.) To send home any of the booty here?... nearly impossible.. post is unreliable, and DHL wants $60 per pound for shipping.
Today we went to the market of a nearby town, San Francisco el alto. This was definitely a market for locals. Much of it stretched along a single street that went up and up almost infinitely. There was lots of local textiles (though locals tell me that it's rare to find anything handmade, now.) Also, at the very top there was a market for animals... ducks, pigs, lambs, puppies, cows, chickens, turkeys, all present and accounted for. This was a market with very few gringos. Perhaps my favorite thing was a parakeet trained to pull your fortune from a stack for one Quetzal. I only bought one thing: an anona. Imagine a fruit that looks like a asymmetrical heart-shaped grenade that tastes like... something between a pineapple and a banana. It's rare, even here, but was once a favorite of the Maya. What I really wish I could do is take pictures of every face. There are so many interesting, beautiful faces here, but picutres are impolite without asking, and often what you saw disappears when they know they are going to be photographed. There are jaded teens tending shop, ancient men with 50-100 pounds of firewood on their backs, an kids smiling all the way down to their toes.
At the other extreme, Thursday night we went to see a movie at Hiper Paiz. It was bizarre... like Dorothy's tornado picked up a small mall in the midwest, and dropped it into Xela. Fancy, expensive clothes, movie theaters, polished tile, pressurized toilets, and all the trimmings. We each felt a bit of culture shock, but indulged in the guilty pleasure of American-style fast food. I had a strawberry shake, and a vegetarian pita-pizza. I've found I need more fruit than I'm getting here, so I'm planning to start buying more around my family's diet. My host mother also talked to me about not eating enough (mothers are the same everywhere...) and I think they've been buying more fruit for us, in response to our conversation.
I get along quite well with my Spanish teacher this week. We talk about politics, religion, etc. He's a law student, and wants to eventually work on human rights from Los Angeles. I'm learning the last odd tenses, now, and started journalling in Spanish, last week. We started reading the books I brought along to Xela... House on Mango Street and the Alchemist. He also showed me some Mayan poetry that's very Zen-ish.
I'm getting used to rides on minibuses, pick-ups, and "chicken buses." A Swiss student, Sonja, and I went to Lake Atitlan for the weekend. After a series of buses, we arrived in Panhachel. We were floored getting off the bus... gringos everywhere, signs in English, textiles, jewelry. I hadn't realized how much I am used to a town of real Guatemalans. We consulted the guidebooks, and headed out for San Marcos. The lake itself is absolutely breathtaking. Xela is in a bowl, surrounded by volcanoes. So is the lake. Imagine a huge lake, surrounded on all sides by huge green sloped volcanoes. It's really beyond words and photography both. Between time in Xela and Lake Atitlan, and on buses, I've also seen so much interplay between clouds and mountains... I guess I'll consider this the third thing that I can't possibly capture for you all.
We took a water taxi to San Marcos, getting sprayed, and transferring passengers at other villiages along the way. At a couple points, during the day, we saw damage from Hurricaine Stan... there were some areas of road washed out, and an entire house washed down from higher on the hill and destroyed. San Marcos was wonderful. The lower half of the town mostly caters to tourists. Almost all the businesses lie along two brick paved alleys with ceilings of vines and trees, or the maze of labyrinth of winding paths between the two.
It's much more tropical than Xela, both in terms of temperature and vegetaion. People sun and swim in the day, and stay out at night walking, chatting, playing. The sounds here were only those of waves, wind, and grasshoppers. Sonja and I walked up to the top of the town along a road that winds through the residential areas. As we walked up, we heard an amplified child's voice calling out in a way that reminded both of us of the Muslim call to prayer. The locals grow food and coffee on incredibly steep slopes. They're very friendly, though children often ask for money.
We sat on the beach for hours in the afternoon and the evening, just listening to the waves and watching the twinkling of stars and lights of Santiago, San Pedro, and Panhachel. It would be a great place to spend a week or more, just... doing... nothing. It apparently is the new-agey town on the lake... we could have gone to a yoga class, gotten massages, meditated, (or just gone to one of the restaurants to take in a movie.)
I'm probably not going to work for the hiking guides... at least for now. I bumped into one of them the other day. He encouraged me a lot to come work for them, telling me that they'll give me training, that the hike I didn't finish on Santa Maria is incredibly hard for everyone, and that their customers are often first-time hikers. However, I talked a bit this week with a guy who handles volunteers for a few community-owned organic coffee farms between here and the Pacific. My current plan is to work on one that is very well organized for a couple months, learning what I can... then move to another that's still quite disorganized, and stay there longer. I'll likely be helping them set up an ecotourism program, and may help with the farming and teaching of the kids, as well. One more week of school, then off to new unknowns.
A big part of the texture of living here is the sounds. All day... the sound of diesel engines and old cars swing past. In the evenings, the lullabye is often a combination of goodnights from the street dogs, and fireworks from... who knows who. Adela likes to listen to syrupy love songs, all day, so we often have those to listen to... like Camisa Negra by Juanes. In the clubs, we're more likely to hear Latino hip-hop, originally from Puerto Rico, called "Reggaeton." Probably the most popular example, right now is "Gasolina," by Daddy Yankee. It really grows on you. I think I found it on Amazon. For the curious, click here, then scroll down to the music samples and click on Gasolina.
There are tons of markets, and they each seem to have their own character... Mercado Democracia has a bit of everything... local fruits and vegetables, meat, pirated CD's and DVD's, hardware, pharmacies, small appliances, etc.... each in a small stall or a small store. A further walk can take you to Minerva with its fruits, vegetables, and used clothing that no one bought at the Salvation Army or Value World. Just to give you an idea... $2 for a DVD of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (still in theaters,) 40 cents per pound for strawberries (but you have to figure out how to kill ameobas that might be lurking in the skin... we used rum.) To send home any of the booty here?... nearly impossible.. post is unreliable, and DHL wants $60 per pound for shipping.
Today we went to the market of a nearby town, San Francisco el alto. This was definitely a market for locals. Much of it stretched along a single street that went up and up almost infinitely. There was lots of local textiles (though locals tell me that it's rare to find anything handmade, now.) Also, at the very top there was a market for animals... ducks, pigs, lambs, puppies, cows, chickens, turkeys, all present and accounted for. This was a market with very few gringos. Perhaps my favorite thing was a parakeet trained to pull your fortune from a stack for one Quetzal. I only bought one thing: an anona. Imagine a fruit that looks like a asymmetrical heart-shaped grenade that tastes like... something between a pineapple and a banana. It's rare, even here, but was once a favorite of the Maya. What I really wish I could do is take pictures of every face. There are so many interesting, beautiful faces here, but picutres are impolite without asking, and often what you saw disappears when they know they are going to be photographed. There are jaded teens tending shop, ancient men with 50-100 pounds of firewood on their backs, an kids smiling all the way down to their toes.
At the other extreme, Thursday night we went to see a movie at Hiper Paiz. It was bizarre... like Dorothy's tornado picked up a small mall in the midwest, and dropped it into Xela. Fancy, expensive clothes, movie theaters, polished tile, pressurized toilets, and all the trimmings. We each felt a bit of culture shock, but indulged in the guilty pleasure of American-style fast food. I had a strawberry shake, and a vegetarian pita-pizza. I've found I need more fruit than I'm getting here, so I'm planning to start buying more around my family's diet. My host mother also talked to me about not eating enough (mothers are the same everywhere...) and I think they've been buying more fruit for us, in response to our conversation.
I get along quite well with my Spanish teacher this week. We talk about politics, religion, etc. He's a law student, and wants to eventually work on human rights from Los Angeles. I'm learning the last odd tenses, now, and started journalling in Spanish, last week. We started reading the books I brought along to Xela... House on Mango Street and the Alchemist. He also showed me some Mayan poetry that's very Zen-ish.
I'm getting used to rides on minibuses, pick-ups, and "chicken buses." A Swiss student, Sonja, and I went to Lake Atitlan for the weekend. After a series of buses, we arrived in Panhachel. We were floored getting off the bus... gringos everywhere, signs in English, textiles, jewelry. I hadn't realized how much I am used to a town of real Guatemalans. We consulted the guidebooks, and headed out for San Marcos. The lake itself is absolutely breathtaking. Xela is in a bowl, surrounded by volcanoes. So is the lake. Imagine a huge lake, surrounded on all sides by huge green sloped volcanoes. It's really beyond words and photography both. Between time in Xela and Lake Atitlan, and on buses, I've also seen so much interplay between clouds and mountains... I guess I'll consider this the third thing that I can't possibly capture for you all.
We took a water taxi to San Marcos, getting sprayed, and transferring passengers at other villiages along the way. At a couple points, during the day, we saw damage from Hurricaine Stan... there were some areas of road washed out, and an entire house washed down from higher on the hill and destroyed. San Marcos was wonderful. The lower half of the town mostly caters to tourists. Almost all the businesses lie along two brick paved alleys with ceilings of vines and trees, or the maze of labyrinth of winding paths between the two.
It's much more tropical than Xela, both in terms of temperature and vegetaion. People sun and swim in the day, and stay out at night walking, chatting, playing. The sounds here were only those of waves, wind, and grasshoppers. Sonja and I walked up to the top of the town along a road that winds through the residential areas. As we walked up, we heard an amplified child's voice calling out in a way that reminded both of us of the Muslim call to prayer. The locals grow food and coffee on incredibly steep slopes. They're very friendly, though children often ask for money.
We sat on the beach for hours in the afternoon and the evening, just listening to the waves and watching the twinkling of stars and lights of Santiago, San Pedro, and Panhachel. It would be a great place to spend a week or more, just... doing... nothing. It apparently is the new-agey town on the lake... we could have gone to a yoga class, gotten massages, meditated, (or just gone to one of the restaurants to take in a movie.)
I'm probably not going to work for the hiking guides... at least for now. I bumped into one of them the other day. He encouraged me a lot to come work for them, telling me that they'll give me training, that the hike I didn't finish on Santa Maria is incredibly hard for everyone, and that their customers are often first-time hikers. However, I talked a bit this week with a guy who handles volunteers for a few community-owned organic coffee farms between here and the Pacific. My current plan is to work on one that is very well organized for a couple months, learning what I can... then move to another that's still quite disorganized, and stay there longer. I'll likely be helping them set up an ecotourism program, and may help with the farming and teaching of the kids, as well. One more week of school, then off to new unknowns.
