Hiking to Nowhere

Jim and I spent five days last week hiking to El Mirador, the oldest and largest Mayan ruin in the world. Because the site is in the middle of nowhere, one has to hike two days to get there. And since one does not want to live there, one also must hike two days back to catch a bus to the real world. That left us with one day of exploring the ruins, which was enough because not much is excavated. What we did see were the tops of several temples. The temples each have three stories; usually only the highest story is excavated. Since the land around the ruins is flat, we had amazing views on all sides once we climbed to the top.

Getting to the site caused us much pain and suffering. First we had to buy food for the five days. Our guide wanted seven bags of rice and six rolls of toilet paper. Hmmmmm. After some respectful complaining (since we were paying after all), we ended up with six bags of rice and four rolls of toilet paper. We only used two bags of rice and one roll of toilet paper. There was also pasta, canned sausages, tomato sauce, eggs, and tortillas. We bought all those items within reason so we had very little or none remaining. Considering we were in the middle of nowhere, we ate very well! And to our guide's credit, he made some marvelous meals over the camp fire.

Thankfully, a mule carried all our food and bedding, so Jim and I only had to carry our packs. That was good since we had to wear rain boots because the ground was so muddy. Of course, the boots had terrible support and killed the feet. Half-way through the first day of hiking and only 10 miles into the 38 mile trip (one way), Jim and I would make comments like, "I can't feel my legs any more," I can't wait to sit on a bus--even that chicken bus--because I will be sitting down," and "I am considering breaking my own legs so I have to ride on the mule." The return trip was less painful, or maybe we were just more tolerant of the pain.

One of the bright sides was that Jim loves to have access to ample snacks for any trying situation. I managed to carry most of the snacks in my pack, and since I had no fear of gaining weight after hiking 80 miles round trip, I had no problem with lightening my backpack along the way!

Off Into the Great Blue Yonder

We are about to begin the last, and probably craziest, stop on the tour--a place called El Mirador. El Mirador, or ¨the big M¨ is the largest city built by the Mayans and is a circular city 26 km in diameter. It is only partially excavated, so many of the ruins are under 1800 years of dirt, rock, and vegetation. Under normal circumstances, one must find the one or two daily buses that make the trip to Carmelita, the northernmost town in Guatemala, to begin a 5-day hike to El Mirador


In order to get there from diving in Honduras we needed to do the following:

-catch the 6:20am boat from Utila to the Honduran mainland
-ride the 8:30 bus to San Pedro Sula, purportedly the drug capital of Central America
-wander around the mall and happen upon the 12:30 bus to Puerto Cortes, the largest Caribbean port in Honduras
-have a 3-course meal at the dining palace that is Pizza Hut abroad.
-barely make the 3:30 bus that actually left at 3:15 for the border. After crawling through the dirt roads of two surprisingly large towns, arrive a quarter of a mile from the border.In ironic tribute to the Texas-Mexico border, two Americans walked the Honduras-Guatemala border as it was getting dark.
-after a bit of negociating in Spanish, hire a private shuttle to the main road.
-around 6:15, catch a collectivo full of children for Morales and get dropped off at a rest stop
-hang out at the rest stop and eat Magnum ice cream bars until the7:30 bus to Flores shows up. We sweet-talk the driver into giving us a ride.
-catch a midnight taxi in Flores to an ATM and then a hotel. On the brightside, the hotel was $6 for both of us. On the dark side, we definitely received what we paid for. Seth guarantees he felt 4 distinct springs in the matress.
-woke up at 4am to start walking to bus station. Fortunately a taxi picked us up to relieve some absurd sketchiness.
-waited until 5:15 to find that the 5am bus was broken and was not going to Carmelita--the town closest to El Mirador
-after buying mud boots and lots of snacks we are waiting for the 12:45 bus. Wish us luck!

In the Jungle, the mighty Jungle

One of the ups of spending a week in the jungle was the wildlife we saw and heard. Okay, seeing the wildlife was amazing, hearing them was not so great.

Every morning the monkeys woke us up with their howling. Not the howling of a screaming baby, but deep, full-throated yells that echoed through the jungle. And of course the monkeys wanted to see who could make the most noise. During the day, however, the monkeys were usually quiet. We often saw them sitting in trees watching us.

One day Jim and I saw parrots flying around a clearing. They were not very close, but we could see the bright, flashy green as they zipped by. At the foot of the mountain some of the residents have parrots that repeat "Hola" and "Buenas Dias" over and over. That sounds annoying, so thankfully that is something I have only been told.

While working one day, I saw blue butterflys several times over the course of the afternoon. I am use to the orange and black butterflys of New York, so these deep, rich blue ones were enough excitment for me to make Jim look too!

We have seen the biggest caterpillars ever here too. They are thick, have stripes, and about four inches long. When you look at them you think, "Wow! You are big!"

Of course, there are lots of bugs and spiders. One of the other workers has bites all over. Her lower back is currently covered with little red mountains. She is also afraid of all creatures that crawl. One evening a spider plopped down in front of me. I was tired and didn´t react right away. If fact, the spider and I stared at each other, and then, without moving, I said, "Look at this spider in front of me." Barely had the words left my mouth before the other girl bolted up in her chair and yelled with fright. The spider did no more harm and Jim flicked it away.

The Food Psychic

Two nights ago, after a long day of work, Seth and I read for a little bit before climbing into the sheetless, pillowless size full bed we share. My initial bitterness has worn off a bit, especially after discovering that my hammock keeps me warm at night.

"Okay Jimmy, now do you want to know what time it is?" Seth asked for the second time.

I prepared myself mentally for some absurdly early hour because there is not too much to do in the jungle after the sun goes down.

8:30pm. The sadest part is we fell asleep almost instantly. I don^t think I have ever been to bed this early voluntarily, unless my memories of being 10 years old are patently false.

The good part was that when the roosters and howler monkeys woke us up at 5am, we were well rested. By the time we hike up the mountain to the top treehouse to eat breakfast, we are very much awake and ready for work.

Seth and I are the first volunteers to sucessfully convince the hostel owners, Fred and Chad, that we actually knew enough about carpentry to have an independent construction project, building the showers. Fred told us, "Usually when people ask ¨What do you mean by square?¨ I send them down to move mud." Thanks Dad, we´re alot cleaner cause you taught us how to saw and make little marks on wood with a pencil ...

As to my predicition for the future, here it is: when Seth and I leave this lovely air-conditioned internet cafe and ride the bus 20 minutes to the middle of nowhere, hike up the mountain, and sit down for dinner, I absolutely guarantee we will eat beans and rice.

I have never met the lady who cooks us 3 meals a day for 50 Cordovas each (about $2.50), but I know she will give us rice and beans. Again. Just like every other meal.

50 Hours and Counting

Surf week in El Salvador, celebrating the end of Seth’s Standardized American Tests in Guatemala, is in full swing. We already feel like we’ve been in the pueblo of El Tunco (pop. 600) for several weeks. Our new friends are all around—it’s hard to walk to either the burrito place or the surf shop without seeing our surfing friends, soccer buddies, or the town drunk.

Today was our first real surf lesson, where we paddled for 20 minutes to get out to the point break. Our instructors don’t speak much English and I don’t have a clue what they’re saying when I ask them to describe what they’re looking for in a wave. “Suave” is the only idea I’ve been able to reconstruct in English. In the morning, before 10 am, the waves are “softer” which makes them easier to ride.

When a suficiently “suave” wave would appear, my instructor would say “Este, Este, Este” very excitedly, and I would start paddling madly. He’d give me a push at the opportune moment, so usually the wave would catch me. The hardest part is getting from the prone position to the standing position—falling into a giant onrushing wave that rips the board away from you isn't quite as dangerous as it sounds ...

I’ll conveniently abridge history and highlight the 3 waves I caught today by myself. Seth is not far behind, which is impressive considering today was his 2nd hour of surfing ever. My friend Strock, on vacation from Richmond, is getting up consistently and leading the charge against both sunburn and dehydration. We buy gallons of water for $1 and drink it straight.

Something that’s not quite as suave is my swimsuit marathon—50 hours and counting in the zebra swim trunks. Don’t worry Mom, I’ll wear them out so you’ll never see or smell them!

White Skinned Money Tree. Or Not.

Today I made my last mandatory trip into Guatemala City. It all started at 4:20am when Jim came into the room. He had slept in another room because he had to leave around 4am (or 4:20am) to get to San Salvador to meet a friend. He came into the room and took some of my money because he couldn't find his. The night before I had carefully figured out how much money I would need to get to and return from the city. Now I was Q. 20 (or just over $2) short of what I had planned. We didn't have many more Quetzales because we were leaving Guatemala, so I began my adventure with what I had and figured I would worry about getting home when the time came.

The chicken bus picked me up right outside my door, but five minutes out of town the bus broke down. Everyone boarded the next bus, which made it to the City, although the driver also stalled out at one point. Because I have white skin the taxi drivers think I am made of money, so they refused to take me all the way to the school. I refused to pay them all the money I had because I wanted to get back to Antigua when I was done. So one driver took me to a city bus station and told me what bus to take. I rode the bus for a bit and got off where the driver told me to. My orientation was messed up (well, I didn't really have any in the first place), so I asked for directions. I ended up taking another taxi to the school, a drive that took less than five minutes. Of course, I was charged an exuberant amount. Again, my white skin. All my adventures took about an hour-and-a-half, and I was and hour-and-fifteen minutes early. After sitting around for a while another kid showed up and we began talking, and behold! he lived in Antigua too!

After the test he gave me a ride back to Antigua. More correctly speaking, his driver gave me a ride back. This was a real blessing because the money I had remaining would have only gotten me partway to the bus station. I guess I need to work on my tan.

The kid who gave me a ride has lived in Guatemala his entire life, so he told me about the culture and dangers of Guatemala. To pass your driver's exam, you don't really have to practice. First, you bribe the instruction to let you pass. If you don't do that you will fail, no matter how wonderful of a driver you are. Second, you drive around a bit with a guy to show you know how to steer. You probably shouldn't get into an accident, but other than that it is insured you will pass. It is also very easy to buy a gun, and most people--at least people who have money/possessions they want to protect, carry a gun in their car.

I also saw the staircase where a head of a government official had been placed in some sort of protest about six months ago. Three government officials had been beheaded and their heads put in three different public locations with warnings written on their foreheads.

While riding I also discovered that McDonalds is to Guatemala City what Starbucks is to New York City. I counted three in the course of about five blocks, but we passed many more!

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

This is our first joint post. Get excited. As we get ready leave Guatemala this weekend, we've quickly reviewed some of the highlights and low-lights of life here in the Guate.

The Good
-Living in a rugged, green country with many mountains and hills
-Ridiculously large amounts of nachos for only $10
-Cheap laundry service
-We are usually the tallest people wherever we go
-Everything is cheaper here than in the US, except for Taco Bell
-When someone gets mad at you, you can pretend you don't understand
-People are always ready to help you find something in the store
-You can carry your bag into the supermarket because you are a gringo while the natives have to leave theirs at the door

The Bad
-The fitted sheets are about a 45 thread count and WILL NOT STAY ON THE MATTRESS AT NIGHT. We promise we're not that bitter ...
-No hot water that comes out of the faucet
-You can't drink the water from the faucets
-When you do have hot water in your shower, you cannot adjust the temperature
-Toilet paper cannot be thrown in the toilet
-Skittles are overpriced (Jim taught a native how to say "ripoff")
-The internet is pretty slow
-The milk is fake and thin
-The historic cobblestones in Antigua are terrible for running
-Nobody can give directions to save their lives


The Ugly 
-Dudes peeing in the street
-Black clouds of exhaust from the buses
-Some of the old Mayan women don't shave their armpits
-The police and national guard need the semi-automatic weapons they carry ... so does the guard at the North Face store?
-The occasional tourist, always American, who sticks a giant telephoto lens in a poor child's face to get a better picture
-Vendors perpetually trying to get you to pay a "gringo premium" for everything at the market.
-Outside of Antigua, the number of houses that are pieces of tin tied together. Thank goodness there's no frost here.

It's All Over Now

Today we finished the last of the cream. What a relief. I prefer plain vanilla yogurt so much on my cereal. I'd never really appreciated it until we had cream every morning for breakfast--a whole yogurt container full.

Okay, I need to take the fall for this one. 

It all started on my first, and because of this incident only, run to the bodegona--the Guatemalan version of a supermarket. We needed yogurt to eat with our cereal and as I was going to get some more strawberry, I noticed another, more pure-looking yogurt container on the top shelf of the refrigerated aisle.  

It was a much whiter container, more simple, with only a few words at the bottom, one of which was "pura." It didn't have any of those fake-looking fruit pictures, just a simple logo. I was so excited. "Momma's going to be so proud of me," I thought, "I just found the healthy yogurt!"

We'd had a discussion in our home a few weeks before about all the chemicals that are legal in Guatemala for use in artificially-flavored foods, so healthy, natural yogurt seemed liked a godsend. I was convinced this find alone, and the accompanying story, would raise my Christmas gift quota from Mom by at least 20% ... can you imagine how excited she'd be to know her son was trying to eat healthy in spite of the evil polluters of Guatemalan food?!?!?

I was so excited when I started to dig in that first morning, because the yogurt was creamy on top. "Oh boy," I thought, "this is just like that super-exclusive, all-natural-no-preservative-unsweetened-from-cows-with-birth-certificates-and-an-organic-diet yogurt like we have at home!"

I kept scooping and it was still creamy. Halfway down the container, cream. At the bottom, cream.

I read the label again. The "Pura" was still there alright--right next to the "Crema." I just had purchased 32 ounces of pure cream. 

Everybody made fun of me; the kids, the parents, the grandparents, our teacher--pretty much anyone who heard the story. Honestly, the universal mockery was nothing compared to that cream every morning with our cereal. It was like eating an unsweetened melted granola bar every morning.

I'm just glad its over.  

I make a phone call for you friend

While on vacation this weekend, I found great reason to appreciate living in the city. Two statements provide proof for my reasoning. First, there are many options for eating in the city. Second, there are no roosters in the city.

When we had about two hours remaining in our eight hour journey, we stopped at a travel agency to get a fresh driver. The owners of the travel agency showed a great concern over where we would stay that night. They offered to call ahead and reserve a place for us. We told them no, but they were so pushy and "helpful" they did anyway. After several calls they informed us only one place had openings for us that night. Several of us (okay, just me) stood in the doorway and made faces at the men behind their backs, all the while whispering that I didn't believe a word they were saying. My intention is not to spoil the story, but I really should trust my gut more often. We finally escaped from these men and continued our journey. Our driver was much more helpful and assured us that trucks from each hotel would meet us upon our arrival in the town.

When we did arrive (the last part was over a 20 mile dirt road), the driver stopped outside the town. There was only one truck waiting for us. Because it was 10 pm we decided not to pick a fight, but Jim did point out that we stopped outside of town. So we drove through town, and away from the town. We drove far enough away from the town to make it too far to walk back. That was probably part of the plan of the hotel owners.

We arrived at our hotel and tried to order some food. They didn't have some food on hand (turns out they didn't have a lot), so our options were very limited. The waiter told us sandwiches were easiest to make late at night, so we ordered those. We waited 30 minutes for our sandwiches. Good thing we didn't order anything more complicated. When they did arrive we discovered the waiter had messed up our orders. It was late, so again, we didn't pick a fight.

In the morning we were waken at 5 am by a rooster. I don't mind waking up at 5 am. I DO mind waking up by the noise of a rooster. The rooster sounded like he was just below my window. Jim thought the rooster was next to his bed. Regardless, the rooster made himself known in a very unpleasant way. After a while the rooster decided it was morning and kept quiet. We finally got some more sleep.

We marched down to the kitchen once again, this time for breakfast. Again, out options were limited. This time we waited 40 minutes for our food, and yet again the waiter messed up the order. We finally left for our day outing. When we returned we grabbed our bags and went in search of the hotel we had wanted to stay at the night before. It was not too hard to find, and while checking in, we asked the receptionist if the hotel had been full the night before. "Oh no," the guy responded, "We only had four guests last night."

So much for the "phone calls" the guys at the travel agency made...

Jim and I used another travel agency to return to Antigua. It is a good thing we did too, because we traveled back during the day, and we were NOT too tired to pick a fight this time around!

Dont' Be a Ladron

Whenever I used to think of someone being burned alive, I would think of the Tibetan monk who poured gasoline over himself in the street and lit himself on fire in protest of the Chinese government. I don't know that much about him, but the picture's famous and I've seen it a couple of times in textbooks or photo collections.

Apparently these sort of things are not quite as rare in Guatemala.

Last week somewhere in the Wild Wild West of Guatemala (in this case the far north) four criminals who were about to walk out of jail scot-free were snatched by the local villagers. According to our host dad, up in that part of Guate the handful of policemen are easy to corrupt. It's quite common to be caught red-handed committing a violent crime and through bribery, walk away without any punishment. 

These villagers decided the best way to set an example of these 4 criminals would be to burn them. So they did.

The human-torch theme gets crazier. A few days later two Mayan women were caught pickpocketing tourists in the local market. Because all the locals recognize how much of the Antigua economy is from tourism dollars, they were pretty ticked off and decided to punish the women--by burning them. 

Fortunately the every-present Antigua police intervened, but it was a close call according to our host family. Keep in mind that Antigua is regarded as the safest and most law-abiding place in Guatemala. Undoubtedly these women paid the right folks and are now back on the streets, so we're watching our pockets and not carrying any matches.

The Movie Rights Are for Sale

Riding on a shuttle bus to and from touristy place has been our number one location for meeting people and hearing stories. This one is close to the top of the list.

On the way back from Lake Atitlan two weekends ago, we rode along a very, very sketchy road (that was closed the next day for a week ...) with 5 Americans and a 30-something Canadian aircraft mechanic from Calgary.

He came to Lake Atitlan about a month ago, intending to compete in a bike race and then peace out, staying for a total of 10 days. The race was an International Courier Race for professional couriers that required riding around on racing bikes for a day and then doing some charity work. Not a big deal. This  fellow used to be a courier and he thought it'd be a good way to spend a vacation.

His second night at the lake, his friends took him out to dinner with a bunch of other white folks who lived in the area. What they didn't tell him was that a certain school teacher was coming--his college girlfriend who he hadn't seen in 13 years since they broke up.

The other van occupants were mostly female and they were eating this story up with a predictable amount of ooing and ahhing. One of them asked if she looked the same as she did in college, and our Canadian friend said, "Absolutely not--she looks better." At this point the emotional level on the bus reached unprecedented heights and we were all in critical danger of clasping our hands, closing our eyes, and sighing deeply.

When asked for further details, our friend, undoubtedly made extremely uncomfortable by the lavish display of emotion, shrugged his shoulders and said he didn't know what their relationship status was.

For the rest of the van, the story ended there, but yours truly managed to weasel out a few more juicy details at the rest stop. Our friend was trying to get home on time so he wouldn't lose his job (he'd already extended his vacation by two weeks), but he is coming back. "As soon as I sell my $12,000 worth of bikes," he said, "I'm quitting my job to come down here and be with her."

If anyone wants to film his story or otherwise get in contact with him, I might recognize a picture.

A Tribute to Forrest

Seth had the SAT in Guatemala City this morning, so I went running without the Peanut Gallery ... he always says "I'm not the one who wants to be in the Marine Corps--I can take a  break whenever I want" and other snide remarks in an attempt to detract from the intensity of our runs ...

I hopped on a chicken bus to the next town and then started running down a road. In typical fashion, it turned out to be a dead end. I turned around and eventually found a different road that wound north through the mountains. I never know where I'm headed on these runs, I usually just run in one direction for half an hour or so and then run back. All of a sudden came around a curve and saw the road drop off dramatically under the Bienviendos a San Antonio Aguas Caliente sign. The valley where San Antonio was situated was probably the most beautiful town I've visited in Guatemala.

I can't find a picture to do it justice and I don't feel like writing 1000 words to compensate ... what I liked so much was the valley formed by an unusually large number of mountains, so the topography was very different all the way around. It also was quite small, probably less than a mile long, giving the valley a hideaway feel. Needless to say I didn't see any other foreigners.

A Barking, Self-made Boss

Jim and I are back building houses this week. The last two mission teams we have worked with had their quirks, but this most recent team tops the list. One older man, who was a private contractor back in the day, likes to do things his way. Most people do, so no big deal. And because this guy has years of experience, most of his ideas are good too. He likes, however, not only likes to do things his way, but also ask people why they are doing things the hard way when they aren't doing a job his way. And if something goes wrong he likes to play detective so he has someone to blame. Everyone on the team gives him a hard time. My favorite memory so far occurred the first day after he blamed my team for taking his supplies (later it turned out we actually didn't). After his little speech, which was full of annoyed energy, he walked away and I turned to my fellow workers with an alarmed look on my face. They shrugged the chastising off and assured me that "his bark was worse than his bite."

So far I have only been barked at, not bitten.

Another private contractor has the craziest sense of humor. One time he asked me for help carrying a role of insulation (which is very light). He was hunched over limping as he called my name, but when I jumped up to help he straightened up and literally threw the insulation where it needed to be--with a huge grin on his face too! Another time he asked someone which way was north. Apparently north is straight up, right towards the sky!

Maybe I Don't Even Know English That Good ...

We rolled into the church this morning to sort 2 big bags of prescription drugs that had been donated. I at least figured that it couldn't be that hard to decipher the different medicines, put them into piles, and call it a day. Boy was I wrong.

Only a handful of medicines were packaged together; the rest were loose in what turned into a bottomless garbage bag. Things went downhill from there. Most of the medicines were for Central America and weren't anything we recognized. We set up three tables and started to figure out the differences between antibacterial and anti-inflammatory medicines and the like.

The best part was that all of the medicines clearly say, in English, what compound is the active ingredient in the drug. When I say we recognized 5% of the English words used on those medicines, I'm not exaggerating. We had to pull out my computer and type all these different "xaxozolantines" and "citiflavins" and whatnot into wikipedia to figure out what types of medicine we had.

We have a bunch more to do tomorrow, but it's supposed to rain till Monday so we won't be missing anything. We wanted to go snorkeling in the Caribbean this weekend, but it's raining there too . . . readers interested in preserving our sanity should reply with movie recommendations!

Sweat and Boxers, but not Sweaty Boxers!

Today Jim and I helped out the church by sorting clothes the mission teams had brought with them. It was intriguing to see what exactly people considered worthwhile to pass along to those who are not quite as fortunate. Some of the clothes were very nice and definitely worth donating. Others left Jim and I slightly puzzled.....

-The men´s boxers, waist size 38-40..... Plenty of guys in the States can wear those, but most Guatemalan men are smaller than I am. Two of me fit in anything with a waist size of 38-40!

-Stained socks. People seem to abhor wearing socks with stains on them. But apparently they are good enough for the people down here. The stains looked like wine stains too.

-Women´s undergarments.................

-Unwashed garments, some of which were still wet with sweat. We figured these were some of the clothes the mission trip participates wore while working. Then they decided to leave them behind. The one´s that were wet and pulled inside out were the worst......

No. I hate NJ.

Yesterday Jim and I moved into our new room. It was a novel idea for me to pack my bags and move to the other side of the town. It was also the only time I have ever moved. It took all of fifteen minutes to pack our bags. The tuctuc we took to our new room took less than ten minutes. It took about that same amount of time for us to unpack in our new room. Regardless of our quick move, we decided to christen our new room by watching a movie. Then we slept on the mattresses, which were new, and the pillows, which were also new. That was a big step up!

Today we went to the market and bought food for breakfast and dinner. The mom will make us dinner, but we have to provide our own breakfast and lunch. Jim loves peanut butter and jelly; I love chocolate and pancakes. We will see what happens.

While on our way to Spanish class today, a very excited gentleman confronted us and begged to tape an interview with us. He basically wanted to know our favorite songs. We had to pick songs off of his list, however, which was the youtube top 10 picks. He also didn't want us to be from the same place in the United States, so he asked me to be from NJ. "No," I said, "I hate NJ." So we settled for Washington D.C. Needless to say, this guy was not after careful or proper journalism. Apparently he was also doing an ad for Hyundai. Jim had to admit that there are many Hyundais in NY (a fact he bemoaned to me as we continued on our way).

We both prefer Beamers.

I have a soft spot for Mercedes too.

Fun with Beach Cruisers

Seth and I decided Saturday morning we needed to head of Antigua for a change of scenery. After a few hiccups, we finally found a place that rented bikes--beach cruisers to be exact.

We felt a bit retro getting on these things--they look like something and out-of-fashion old person would ride on the boardwalk in Jersey--but the seats were incredibly comfortable. We biked south for about 40 minutes up the big volcano to the town of San Juan Obispo. We threw the frisbee on the town's basketball court for a while before starting up back up the mountain. We walked our bikes uphill for 15 minutes and were about to turn around, when we ran into two native kids...

Apparently I correctly asked for an open field to for frisbee, because they both said (in Spanish) that they wanted to play frisbee too. We were able to ride down the first part of the trail, but by the time we crossed a orchard full of apricot-like fruit the trail was too faint to be passable by beach cruiser. The boys, Juan and Manuel, gave us a handful of the fruit to try--it walnut-sized, light yellow, had large seeds, and was quite sweet. Just don't ask what the name was, cause I forgot in spite of asking at least three times.

After that, we had to basically cut through a coffee field. There really wasn't a trail by this point. When we were talking later, Seth and I found that we both were thinking, "I hope this kids don't disappear cause we won't be able to find our way out.

Eventually, we arrived at a giant dirt soccer field and started hucking the disc. Either because of the altitude or the humidity, the frisbee flew significantly farther than usual. Juan, was the big surprise of the day. He is an under-sized fifteen was throwing the disc easily 100 yards. It was quite the day.

The goodbye was a little bittersweet cause the boys asked us for money to buy a kite, and when we didn't give them any, asked for the frisbee as a gift. I can't figure out exactly why, but I just didn't feel comfortable giving them money. I had this impression that they may have thought that since we were obviously tourists they should try to get something out of us. We're still trying to figure out exactly how to really touch the poor people around us.

We had to carry our bikes across a dry creek to get to the road, but after that, we barely had to pedal back down the mountain to Antigua.

a not-so Beautiful Letdown

After our Switchfoot adventure, Seth and I had some real issues getting up the next morning. I am now willing to admit that 8 hours of sleep a night is addictive and sudden changes can lead to mood swings.

That said, I think my forthcoming analysis is still quite valid: tortillas are the most disappointing food in the world.

After the 15th of September parade, Seth and I booked back to the Parque Central to get some of the street food. It was drizzling and we quickly gravitated toward the tortillas, stuffed with cheese on the grills. The lady made my tortilla right in front of me, so I watched her knead the dough, and then toss it on the grill so it could brown and sizzle. It looked like a pancake on steroids--I was so excited. She flipped it three times before finally allowing me to have it. I was convinced I was in the presence of a true tortilla artist.

There was no taste. Even with all the salsa, it was straight-up bland. It was terrible. I can actually remember the last time I was this disappointed by food--it was mid-July of 2001--but I´ve promised my mother I wouldn´t rehash that one. There was nothing beautiful about this letdown--I even had to sit on a wet park bench to eat it.

On a happier note, we made our deposit today on a brighter room with newer beds with a family from church. It´s on the other side of town, but the food seems to be top notch. They invited us over for tamales tomorrow, served either with tortillas or french bread. I´ve already made my choice.

Volcanoes, Chicken Buses, and Parades

One Sunday afternoon I became the first person in my family to climb a volcano. Due to too much running on the cobblestone-like streets, Jim did not join me and my companions because of his aching legs. The volcano I climbed is named Picaya, and although active, it erupted in the end of May and is now fairly safe while the lava builds up. I could not climb all the way to the top of the crater because that was not safe, but I was able to look down a hole and see the orange glow of lava. The rocks rocks near the stop smoked steam from the lava underneath, and my legs began sweating when I stood in the steam.

Two days ago Jim and I found out that Switchfoot was playing in Guatemala City on Tuesday night (the 14). Tuesday was a packed day for us, with building houses in the morning and classes in the afternoon, but we decided to go anyway. Our original plan to take an airport shuttle did not work out, so we decided to take a chicken bus. Our first chicken bus ride was loud, crowed, bumpy, and nerve-racking if you watched the driver driving. This, however, is typical. We took a taxi from the bus terminal to the park, scalped tickets, and then went to eat dinner. The concert was suppose to start at 8 pm, but in true Guatemalan time, it did not actually start until 9 pm. Switchfoot did not play until 10 pm because two Guatemala bands opened the concert. Fortunately, some friends from church had agreed to give us a ride back to Antigua, so we didn't have to catch another chicken bus at midnight.

Needless to say both Jim and I were exhausted after a day working, studying, and running without a stop. Today we slept in a bit and then watched the parades celebrating Guatemala's Independence Day. The September 15 here is equivalent to July 4 back in the States. The schools in Antigua form their students into marching bands and this morning nothing could be heard except brass instruments, drums, and bells. Food vendors abounded in the park too, so Jim and I ate a lunch of tortillas, meat, avocado, and Guatemalan sauces. We also each ate a roasted potato with black beans inside.

Family Notes

Our host family is really something else. The father and mother, Cecil and Eva, don't speak any English which can be difficult, especially when Cecil is trying to share some words of wisdom.

He's a silversmith with a shop connected to our house and from what I can gather, he likes to talk about some of the failings of modern children, including, but not limited to, young Samuel, their high school age son. We are awakened many mornings by the cry of "Samuel!!" which is audible at all parts of the house. Cecil always wears a vest, which he says make him look good, and occasionally sports an SAE fraternity jacket.

Eva cooks all our meals six days a week, often hitting the kitchen before 6 to make our 7am breakfast. There are usually 5 or 6 students in total, so each meal involves a massive amount of regular food. Most meals also involve a massive amount of black beans, which Eva relishes and Seth does not. She also sells cosmetic products out of the front room, plays the guitar, and has been known to clean the kitchen while listening to Coolio.

The oldest child, Alicia, goes to medical school in Cuba and speaks very good English. She just left for another semester, so we didn't get to know her that well. She's already completed 3 years and has 3 to go, which leads to think she must have gone straight from high school into a medical program.

Samuel is the pseudo-black sheep of the family. I think he wants to be an engineer, but right now he seems to be practicing for a career as a DJ. He'll sit at the computer for hours singing along to different kinds of music, all the while insisting that he doesn't sing.

There's one more daughter whose name and age are still unclear ... it'd be kinda awkward to ask now after living there for two weeks, so we'll have to be very clever in our inquiries. She listens to music and sings most of the time, and judging by what I hear from the headphones, she might be a prime candidate to help Alanis Morissette's music go viral in Guatemala.

$2000 Homes with a $1,000,000 View

Today was the third morning Seth and I traveled by Izuzu Trooper to the village of Pastores, about a 15 minute drive from Antigua.

Like most of Guatemala, this area was devastated by a tropical storm in May, which washed away many houses built too close to the mountain. Many families lost everything, and our venture aims to provide new houses to the poorest of those families, none of whom can afford to pay for new housing.

Pastores is small village, known for its cowboy boots, nestled in a narrow valley. The village, which has partnered with our church and a church from Tulsa to build 12 houses, donated land in the middle of mountain cornfield. The walk up the dirt trail is next to impossible to complete without a break. Not surprisingly, the local Patores public works crew seems to have no trouble carrying up the 800 lbs. boxes with the housing materials.


The houses are a simple 15'x18' one room structure with two windows and a skylight. Unlike many prefabricated homes, these come with insulation, which in Guatemala's moderate climate, ensures the homes will always be a livable temperature. The total cost for each house is about $2000.


Each day we try to divide up the pieces of the four walls and the ceilings and try to assemble the house faster than we did the day before. Wednesday's house had four walls done by 11:30 when Seth and I left for our Spanish lessons.


However small these shed-like structures are by American standards--or white by Guatemalan standards, the view from the former cornfield is phenomenal. The valley stretches across to mountains rising only a few miles away, mountains so high their peaks are often obscured by the clouds. 


Once we get our pictures uploaded, we'll try to find one that does the view justice.

Catching Sleep and BANG!

Last night marked the one week anniversary of Jim and I living in Antigua. We were walking home in the dark last night as Jim pointed this out to me, and I very optimistically pointed out that it was raining, just like it was when we arrived in Antigua.

Our grand plans to go to Lake Atitlan were crushed this morning because of the rain. Although no streets in Antigua were flooded, the street to get to the lake was and there was a danger of walls falling on people. Apparently that happens here. Unfortunately, we didn't know about the cancellation until we met our driver, so we still got up at 4:40 am. After standing in the rain for 15 minutes, we got to come back home and crawl into our beds-which were still warm-and grab another 4 hours sleep.

Just as we were getting up for the second time, a bunch of firecrackers went off. These routinely go off to celebrate events, such as birthdays. This particular bunch was extra long and loud, and when it finally stopped, at least three car alarms began blaring. Jim's comment, "This is a developing country; there shouldn't be car alarms here!"

La Lluvia

Today it's raining in Antigua, "lluvia" in Spanish. Big surprise. Winter here, the rainy season, lasts until October 20th, when apparently the sun comes out in full force and we'll have to routinely coat ourselves with some of our sweet 100SPF sunscreen. Until then we are stuck with rainy afternoons and occasionally rainy mornings like today.

We were soaking wet by the time we walked the 5 blocks from our house to the cafe that is run by a local mission. We were going to meet with one of the missionaries, Steve Otto, to help him sort some pictures. Steve is the coordinator for La Iglesia del Camino's short term mission teams from the States and he is generously finding some ways for us to serve. http://iglesiadelcaminogt.com/english/index.html

We're going to pick out the best short term team photos for future use.

Next week, we're going to work with a short term team from Tulsa every morning putting together prefabricated metal houses for some of the most destitute tropical storm Agatha victims in the nearby village of Pastores. There are 12 to complete and Steve is optimistic that two extra pair of hands will make a big difference--as long as it doesn't keep raining all the time.

Running in the Rain

Yesterday I used my superior persuasive skills to convince Seth to run interval sprints with me in the pouring rain--15 seconds full speed, 45 seconds rest, 18 reps. 

The "historic" coble stone streets in Antigua are an nightmare for running, so we just ran on the 150yd section of paved sidewalk we found. We were both wheezing by the time we finished and we kinda embarrassed until our ears started popping. 

Turns out Antigua is 5029ft above sea level and so they're less oxygen in the air (I think that's how it works)

A Guatemalan runner stopped to say hi and managed to communicate in some form of Spanglish that there is 21k run here in Antigua in September.

I'm game, but I think Seth just wants to coach.

French? Spanish? Maybe Frenish?

After spending six weeks in France this summer, I am use to hearing a foreign language around me. Unlike in France, however, people here speak Spanish. But my brain doesn't make this distinction. So when someone speaks to me in Spanish, my initial reaction is to respond to his question--in French! At the airport in San Salvador the lady processing my ticket asked me if Guatemala was my final destination. She asked me in Spanish of course, and I understood the gist of the question, so I responded in French. She looked at me with a confused look and then asked the question again, this time in English. We both knew enough English to understand the other person.

I have talked to many people in French without realizing they can't understand me. This cracks Jim up. He, thankfully, knows enough Spanish to make himself understood and translate for me.

Today is our first Spanish lesson; I'm on break right now. Spanish is similar enough to French to make it recognizable, but not similar enough to make it easy. In fact I have spent the last two hours confusing French and Spanish, and I expect the next week (at least) will be more of the same. At least now people will understand me--hopefully!

The Great Airport of San Salvador

Seth and I are on hour #4 of fighting boredom in the San Salvador Airport, waiting until hour #6, when our plane to Guatemala City leaves. Thanks in part to the free internet, we've accomplished the following:

-watched Bon Qui Qui at King Burger three times in a row. We stopped because our imitations were beoming unbearable

-watched three of the Three Stooges short movies. Now we understand why we weren't allowed to watch these growing up.

-counted the number of duty free liquor stores. There are 13

-walked around to see if there were only 17 gates in El Salvador's largest airport. There are.

-seen an uncountable number of music videos on the airport TVs. I kid you not, they are all either of Shakira or Beyonce.

I forget if we've done anything else ... I think it's time to watch Bon Qui Qui one more time

I Hate Packing

which is why I didn't start till this morning.

It also explains why I'm writing this instead of making sure I don't forget my toothbrush, among other small toiletry items. Again.

In addition to clothes and shoes, I'm only taking a towel, my laptop, speakers, an ipod, Seth's Hershey's Kisses, and lots of books.

In the interest of full disclosure, Seth will probably make me post what I forgot.

To pack, or not to pack?

So today after I rolled out of bed someone informed me that instead of leaving Thursday, higher authority had decided to leave Wednesday. I had entertained plans to begin on packing today, but when I found this out I decided those plans actually had to be carried through. Bummer number one. A while after lunch (notice that I put off packing until after lunch!) I went through my drawers and pulled out most of my clothes. My thought was that since I am going to live in Guatemala, I might as well take most of my clothes. So I rolled my clothes and packed them away. The suitcase was mostly full, so I decided to weight it. 48 pounds, and I still wasn't done. Bummer number two. Instead of sorting through what I had packed, I threw more stuff in (not clothes this time), and decided to sort on Wednesday. After spending the evening with a friend, I rolled back home and saw more books I will have to pack. Bummer number three.

Long story short: Wednesday has every promise of being a very busy packing day in a not so fun way! (Bummer number four) and too my knowledge Jim hasn't begun his packing yet.

And yes, we are still leaving tomorrow too!