Back in the U.S.A.

Made it safely back home. But I don't have a cell phone at the moment (or access to anyone's number).

Thanks!

I'm writing this from my hotel room in Dos Lunas. This has to be the best $22.00 I've spent on this trip. The Dutch couple that run the place are very nice and welcoming.

My article is coming along nicely. How often do you get to tie in John Denver, Gene Wilder, and an exploding orange into one article about Guatemala? This is what I love about my job. I never know what to expect other than something.

I fly back tomorrow (Friday, July 10).

I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who spent any time on this blog--from one second to an hour or more. Even though this is largely a one-way medium, I feel like this has been a strong link back home.

I have mailed postcards to everyone who requested one. But, Guatemala being Guatemala, I suspect most of the cards will arrive sometime in August.

Traveling alone is a unique experience. You have to rely on yourself, and you can't take shortcuts. I met only a couple of people who were traveling alone for an extended period of time (> a month). But I did meet a lot of couples (e.g. from France, Germany, the U.S.) who were traveling together for 6 months or more.

Some of you may ask me if I plan to return to Guatemala. I am not captivated by Guatemala. I've spent a total of 8 weeks in the country. It has its pretty moments and places. But at its heart, the country is one of poverty, lack of resources, lack of education, and it is full of corruption. This is a country that seems to have lost its way. It is not moving forward nor backward. It simply exists.

During the last 4 weeks I spent here, I lived with a couple--Maria and Hugo. (ed--forgot to get a photo, damn!) They have 4 (I think) grown children and have been together they were 15 years old. Of the 3 homes I have lived in in Guatemala, their home was the most welcoming and inviting. If I do return to Guatemala, it will be to live with them again while attending school.

This may not be my last post. Yes, a twist! I may release the Archive of Almost-Posted and some other fun things I may come up with.

July 4th

So, how does an American celebrate 4th of July in a foreign country?

a) Drive around the town square in a pickup blaring the Star-Spangled Banner?
b) Walk around the town square wearing nothing but the flag and chanting "We're Number 1! We're Number 1!"
c) Hiking with the enemy--a young woman from England.



Of course the first 2 are outrageously attractive prospects. But I chose option C and headed to La Muela ("the molar"). Rose is a university student in England studying Spanish and art. She also lives in the same house with me. And, strangely enough, she's a source for one of my articles.

La Muela is an area of volcanic rock formations just outside of Xela. It's also a religious pilgrimage site. Religious heritages from the Maya and Christianity have created enclaves at the base of the rocks.




That's July 4th Guatemala style.

Chicken Bus

I've been waiting for the right time to capture the "chicken bus" experience. Basically, the chicken bus is a cheap and painfully slow way to travel across Guatemala. (This isn't unique to Guatemala, many other countries use this sort of thing.) 90% of the buses are old buses taken from the U.S.--the big yellow school bus most of us took to school at some point. The buses have been repainted and instead of carrying 2 or 3 to a seat, they are expected to carry 4 in the seat and 2 in the aisle if necessary. But, for $3.00 you can travel 1.5 hours (fares are based on destination not time).

Well, before the bus takes off from a terminal, a lot of people come aboard to sell peanuts, beverages, newspapers, etc. From then on, there are little stops along the road the speed of which can, at times, rival a NASCAR pit stop--people get on, off, luggage taken off the top, put on. Often the rear door isn't closed before the bus starts moving. The ayudante (basically the person in charge of collecting money and coordinating stops) often hangs onto the ladder outside and shuts the door later.

So, why THIS chicken bus experience? At this small stop we picked up a preacher! He preached for probably 30 minutes (in Spanish, of course). This particular bus was about 70% full. I'm standing in front of the rear exit with one hand grasping the luggage rack and the other my camera. I hope the video gives a glimpse into the world of 2nd class transportation.

*If you wait till the end of the video, we hit a bump and I accidentally knock Rose, my travel partner, in the head.

From San Pascual altar just outside of Chichicastenango. You have to walk through the woods and up a small hill to reach the site. Mayan leaders often perform ceremonies (based on Christian and Mayan beliefs) here.

Tajumulco is the highest point in Central America. The summit is about 13,800 feet. That's probably the highest place I've been by 2,000 feet. It was grueling trek through mud, rain, hail, and lightning. I can't write much more because I'm working on the article. But I can tell each of you in person when I get back.

But in the meantime, I've got some video. So, 7 of us were stuck in a tent from about 3:00pm to 3:30am. Ehud (the Israeli) was asleep when I made this. He is a really cool guy who spent 4 years in the IDF. But everyone else was awake. So, just a short, simple introduction of my fellow trekkers.

La Mordida...A Cat and Mouse story

La mordida is a Spanish word for ¨bite¨ (like what a dog might do). It also means something else--paying off the police.

Last night I was at a bar that stays open after the official close of business. Bars of this sort hire workers to hide outside and watch for local police. When the guard spots the police, he immediately alerts the bar mananger. Everything in the bar stops. The lights go out. The music stops. People stop talking.

Then the knocking starts.

The police know which bars stay open late. They need only to catch a bar in the act of operating and then extort a given amount of cash. SO, the police started knocking on the bar door and ringing the door bell. Their knocking and ringing, of course, is met with silence.

Sometimes the subterfuge works, and the police move on to the next bar. Last night it didn´t. The bar had to hand over 300 quetzales (about $40.00) No one gets arrested; there are no ¨official¨fines to pay for staying open late. One local I asked told me that each week a given bar has to pay up. It is simply the cost of doing business in Guatemala.