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.