I originally thought I'd be traveling again, on my final weekend hear in Guatemala. I had a long week, though, for various reasons, and thus I'm staying in Antigua. At least for now. Maybe I'll go somewhere tonorrow, but if I do, I'll just be winging it.
Last weekend was amazing. No, that's an understatement. The school curriculum came with package deals for different trips throughout Guatemala and even into other countries like El Salvador or Honduras. But these trips can cost up to $300, whereas you can arrange trips yourself, making your own bus and hotel reservations through one of the probably almost 100 little travel agency shops in the city. I went the cheap route, and left a week ago Friday night at 6:30 pm on a bus to Guatemala City. From there, I caught the 10pm bus to Flores, Guatemala, about an hour from the site of what is claimed to have been the culutral epicenter of the Ancient Mayan world, Tikal. After sleeping (more or less) for about 8 hours on the bus, I arrived in Flores at 7 am, and by 10 I made it (on my own!) to Tikal. Yes, I traveled solo. But no worries (Mom, Grandma...) -- I recieved conformation from various people before I left it would be a safe trip to make on my own.
The National Park of Tikal is roughly 6 or 7 square miles large, so in my 2 or 3 hour visit, I only saw a very small section of it. I saw the main section, though -- basically the main square of the old city. Pictures to follow:
While there was much more to see, by 1/1:30 it was crazy hot in Flores, and while I had slept at least 8 hours on the bus, it wasn't what I would call a great night's sleep, so the combination of those two factors meant that I was ready to leave by mid afternoon. Back at the bus station in Tikal, I bought another bus ticket for the supposed 3.5 hour bus ride to Rio Dulce. Ha! 3.5 hours turned into about 5.5 hours, and I would have been extremely ticked off, as I was already tired, had I not made a new friend on the bus, also headed to Rio Dulce/Livingston, and together we laughed at the absurdity of the multi hour+ stops our bus made before getting the first 60 miles out of Flores. My new friend, Henry, was from Mexico City. When we finally made it Rio Dulce, it was probably about 11:00, and I was so tired I was starting to doubt my decision to leave Flores/Tikal. I thought perhaps it would have been better to spend the whole weekend there, get a hotel room at that place in the park, and spend more time the next day seeing more of the park. However, after a good night's sleep in an actual bed (even though it only had one sheet and a questionable pillow -- I'm so glad I bought that litte fleece sleeping bag) and waking up to a beautiful Sunday morning, I began to think the bus ride had been worth it. On the beautiful 2 hour boat ride down the Rio Dulce (rio = river) to the Caribean port town of Livingston, I was absolutely convinced I had made the right decision.
In Livingston, Henry and I met up with a "rasta man" who said for 40 quetzales (a little more than 5 dollars) would take us to this waterfall where we could go swimming. Even though Livingston is on the Caribbean, the beach close to the town is pretty disgusting, full of garbage. But the hour hike down the beach brought us out of the dirty part of the beach, to the beautiful part, and then up a little bit into the mountain/forest to the waterfall. It was a small waterful, with only perhaps twice the force of a bathroom shower, the water ran off rock cliff about 12 feet up -- the perfect height to jump from into the deep pool of fresh water below, as was demonstrated by a few other hikers already at the falls. It was a fabulous place to spend a few hours in the afternoon, and there Henry and I also met another friend, Manuel, from Argentina. The three of us had dinner that night at a little cafe place, and the two guys (who both spoke English as well as Spanish) decided to "help" me learn spanish by switching the language of the conversation back and forth. At times I was getting frustrated by how little I could understand -- I thought my Spanish had gotten better thant that -- until Manuel pointed out that I was listening to two people talk with completely different accents, which could only add to the difficulty. All of a sudden I realized this was true: I could more or less understand Henry, from Mexico City, but it was Manuel's Argentinian accent that was confusing me. After dinner the three of us went to this restaraunt/club where a group of Livingstonians were playing drums in the local style of mixed African/Carribean/Latin rythems, called Garifuna. All of a sudden the power went out, and the restaraunt was pitch black. Soon enough the staff brought out some candels to provide a little light, but until they did, people were flipping open cell phones and Manuel had a bright flashlight in his backpack that he used as a spotlight for the group! The power outtage was caused by a storm, which only got worse as the night went on, and so there was no power all night long. It was a hot, fanless night in my hotel room.
My original plan was only to spend the day in Livingston, and leave on the last boat that evening to catch a bus back to Guatemala City/Antingua. But, in part, I think, because of the storm, and also in part, I think, because things like boat schedules are not always (ok, hardly ever!) foolproof in such laidback places as Livingston, the 6:00 boat that I thought I could take out of the town back to either of the two towns with bus stations, Rio Dulce or Puerto Barrios, didn't run. Thus I had to change my plans and leave on the first boat out the next morning, making it to Puerto Barrios by 7:30 and caught the 8:00 luxery class double decker bus to Guatemala City. I made it back to the capital about 1:00, meaning I missed the first half of classes that day, but was convinced I could make it to Antigua by the start of the afternoon classes at 2:00. That would mean, however, that the "chicken bus" -- what they call the public buses (in Engligh -- I hear the tourists started it, but now that's just what they're called) were out as it would take more than an hour. So, I forked over $20 for a cab ride straight to the doors of the school, and made it sweaty, probably a little stinky, and tired but content to the school by 2:00.
The funny thing is, even though $20 was the bargained-down price of the cab ride (I told the driver, who originally wanted almost $30 that $20 was all I had left, which was basically true), the ride from Guatemala City to Antigua -- probably about 40 miles -- was nearly the most expensive part of the trip. The original, 9 hour bus ride was $25. All the other bus rides, lasting 5 hours our more, were the equivelent of $11-15 dollars, the hotel rooms were about $7 a night.
And even though I missed a couple hours of school, I figure the fact that I navigated my way, solo, from nearly the southernmost to the northenmost corners of a foreign country count as a learning experience as well!
This past week has flown by. Days spent studying in school, evenings doing homework and occaisonally going out with a new friend or to I've made in the city. Two more day trips were made: one this past week to a Macadamia (nut)farm and a weaver's coopertive, and one last week to lake Ataitlan and a few of its surrounding towns. The day at the lake was nice, but not of the nicest weather, so I wasn't as impressed by that trip as I hear most people usually are. There was another run in with Maximon there: we visited a small little "shrine," really just kind of a room in a random building near the market, that was much more Catholic this time -- while the figure of Maximon did have the main spot in the center of the room, he was just chilling on the floor this time -- no alter -- and meanwhile a huge crucifix and also a figure of Mary were in the corner of the room, behind this glass coffin -- Sleeping Beauty style -- with a figurine in it which I think was also supposed to be of either Mary or Jesus, but I really wasn't sure. You had to pass by all these relics before you got to Maximon. So again, there was this mix of different religions and cultures, but in this place I had the sense that the dominant one was Catholocism.
The trip this week, to the nut farm and weaver's cooperative was also interesting. At the farm, they sold all kinds of macadamia nut products. Food products, obviously, but also soaps, cosmetic cremes and oils, and the like. They gave "free" (+ the cost of a tip) facials so you could sample their products. Then we visited the weaver's cooperative, set up by a group of woman trying to preserve some of the traditional customs of their village. They put on a demonstration of the significants of the different patterns and products of their weaving, and explained the significants of the traditional clothing and gifts made and worn during weddings.
One last notable part of the past week or so: there has been a lot of rain. Every day it rains for a little bit, even though it might be perfectly bright with not a cloud in the sky an hour previous, and then after it rains the sky is clear again. So out of nowhere these rain storms appear, and just flood the streets. Thursday, heading back to class after my 12-2 lunch break, one such storm came up, and by the time I got to the street in front of la Merced church around the corner from my school, the street seperating my from the church was one big brown, rapidly flowing river. About 8 people on each side of the street stood there looking across to the other side, trying to figure out the best place to cross, and silently daring each other to be the first to try it! I debated taking of my shoes like one lady did, but decided there really would be no point, as they were already soaked. So after about 5 minutes of my own personal stare-down with the river, I decided just to go for it, and in the middle of the street, the water was only about an inch and a half below my knees! (By the end of the school day at 4:30, it was bright and sunny again, and most of the water had drained from the streets.)
