Senior Patricio y San Pedro La Laguna

Last Sunday, Ryan and I were hanging out in the central square in Xela, reading and people-watching and enjoying the morning sun. Then, a skinny, bearded gringo walked by and I said to Ryan, “Hey, that looks like Pat.” I didn’t really think it was Pat, because we were planning on meeting up with him a week later at the lake. But, of course, it really was Pat. Ryan jumped up immediately and yelled out, “Pat!” A moment later they were locked in an embrace and I was standing there with my jaw practically on the floor.





I just couldn’t believe it! Here was our legendary friend, the madman cyclist, standing right in front of us, and it was all because we just so happened to be sitting in the central square that very moment that Pat walked through the square to go find a place to eat.

For those of you who don’t know Pat, he and Ryan have been good friends since childhood. Pat moved to Buenos Aires a year and a half ago. Then in October of last year, he went down to the southern-most town in South America and began his journey. His objective: ride from Argentina to Texas on his bicycle. For the last year we’ve been following his bicycle adventure on his blog (http://swiftkidhistory.wordpress.com), and Ryan and I were really excited that our time in Guatemala was going to overlap with Pat’s ride through here. We’d planned to meet at Lake Atitlan, but Pat showed up a week early in Xela and surprised us.





So, for our final week in Xela, we spent our mornings at Spanish class, and our afternoons/evenings/nights with Pat. We heard all his stories! We talked for hours and hours every day, about all the joyful and difficult moments in traveling, the growing hunger for more adventure, the interactions with locals, the emotional battle in being far away, updates on everyone back home in Houston, all our thoughts and passions and ambitions and hopes and on and on. One story led to another. It was like a week of storytelling. And all those words just got me more excited about the year ahead. Pat has been on his bike, traveling for nearly a year. His journey is almost over. Ryan and I are just beginning our year of discovery. So, this reunion happened at a beautiful moment.

When we said goodbye to Pat on Thursday in the central square, I could feel the significance of the moment.



We were seeing him off to his final country (Mexico) before crossing the border back to Texas. He was seeing us off for the beginning of our journey, and our time of exploration and adventure. Pat rode off to Mexico, and we went to the bus terminal to catch a ride to the lake.



We arrived here, in San Pedro La Laguna, on Thursday afternoon, and to me, that day really felt like the first day of our trip. We studied Spanish in Xela for a month, which was important and good and valuable. But it didn’t feel like traveling. It felt more like preparing for traveling. Thursday felt like day one: our arrival into spontaneity and openness and uncertainty. We embraced it and lived in the moment, and now we are here in the peaceful village by Lake Atitlan.

This is the view from our hotel room:



And here is where we had breakfast yesterday:



I think an appropriate nickname for this pueblo is “Little Israel,” because I’ve literally heard more Hebrew than anything else. Signs and menus are in Hebrew. The local ladies selling banana bread say, “shalom.” The travel agencies have Israeli flags painted on their walls. I listen in on neighboring conversations and try to see how much Hebrew I can understand. All the Spanish and Hebrew feels so mixed up in my head right now!



What have we been doing in this beautiful place? Looking in wonder at the immense beauty of the lake, enjoying our freedom and time to breathe in the fresh air...

A whole lot of reading:



Eating delicious hummus. Awesome Israeli cafe:



Commenting on the characteristics of the million dogs in this village:





Walking the little paths that are filled with plants and lounging dogs, and that lead to cafes that are like secret gardens:





We are happy to be done with Spanish school, and super excited to head down to Ecuador in two days. In the meantime, we can’t put down our books (our kindles), and we are both reading more than we’ve read in years. It feels wonderful.

Estoy bloggando:

Sleep Tight!

Well it’s been just over three weeks since we arrived in Guatemala but it feels like three months. Sometimes I feel like I’ve been away from the U.S. for so long that I may forget my English (American).

Since our last blog post, we’ve moved from living with a local family to a hostel that is directly across the street from our school. Telling our host mom that we wanted to spend our last two weeks in a hostel (rather than at her place) kind of felt like breaking up: “it’s not you… it’s me.” We told her that we wanted to move so we could have more independence and so we could stay in the same room together. More accurately, our reasons for moving were:

1. We didn’t want to continue living by her schedule (waiting on her to eat and to turn on the water heater for the shower, for example)
2. I had difficulty conforming to the desk in my room (it was designed for a 7 year old child)
3. I was getting bitten by bed bugs

Yep… take a look at my bed bug bites



When I showed these symptoms (among others on my thighs, calves and forearms) to our host mom, she immediately finalized the diagnosis: allergies. I told her that the symptoms first appeared on my legs but, since then, I’d been isolating my legs from the hypothesized bed bug system by utilizing my cocoon (a synthetic liner intended to fit inside a sleeping bag to keep it clean, thanks Shi). I then handed her the bed bug test results: discontinued development of symptoms on my legs. There was a pause… she had to ignore my test results because, if my test results were correct, then that meant that there were at least 2 shots fired and if there were at least 2 shots fired… that meant conspiracy



Jokes aside, I think it was in her best interest to deny the existence of bed bugs because, if it were so, she could potentially lose her income. She had my sympathy, but I wasn’t about to continue getting eaten each night and I’m not about to put another student in the same position by failing to report the matter to the school.

Moving to the hostel was like crossing the Berlin Wall (except that we didn’t get shot at). I kept feeling like the differences between these two living situations were sort of like the historical and functional differences between communism and capitalism. All of a sudden we had hot water whenever we wanted it, we could cook whenever and whatever we wanted, we had a cold place to store beer, our sheets smelled of laundry detergent (not mildew) and no more bed bugs!

So needless to say, we’re happy with our move. Take a look at Sheer drinking Guatemalan rum and using her headlight (AKA: nerdlight) to read "The Poisonwood Bible" on her kindle at night in our hostel room.



Also, since our last blog post, we hiked Volcan Santa Maria (the second highest peak and most difficult hike in the area). We left for the hike at 5:30 am with a group of eight from our school. Everyone was from the U.S. with the exception of Will from London. In the microbus, somebody asked, “Has anyone done this hike before?”
Sheer said, “I have.”
Somebody again, “How long does it take?”
Sheer replied deliberately, “Four hours up and three hours down… if nothing goes wrong.”

The way Sheer was talking reminded me of omens from a foreboding sailor like in "The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner" and the storytelling style of Large Marge from “Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure”. Sheer had her reasons though: two years ago she hiked this same volcano but had a lot of trouble with the altitude. This year, however, Sheer was the first of our group of eight to make it to the summit!

The summit was beautiful. We had banana bread for lunch beside praying, evangelical Christian Mayans (they make the hike to bring prayers and flowers closer to God) and before a sweeping view of not only the surrounding towns and villages but also the Pacific Ocean.

Here's the village where we started the hike.






Then we reached the summit.






That's the Pacific Ocean in the background.


There were cows on the summit too!

Volcan y Laguna Chicabal

At 5:30am on Saturday morning, we hopped in a cab that took us from Xela to San Martin Sacatepequez. We arranged for a cab so that we could ensure an early start. For the hike we were going to do, up Volcan Chicabal, arriving too late means missing a great view at the summit, due to fog.

After the cab dropped us off, we began our hike from the village at the foot of the mountain. We climbed up a very steep road that goes straight up. Already at 6:15am, the entire village seemed awake. Women in beautiful, bright traditional Mayan clothing were working outside their homes. The men, who wore a special red-and-white peppermint striped dress unique to this village, carried heavy loads and made their way to the fields. They were very kind and we loved seeing the smiles on the kids' faces when we called out "buenos dias!"




Notice the Mayan woman on the roof of her home.





After leaving the village, we continued hiking up. About an hour and a half into our hike, something wonderful happened. We made a friend.



This little puppy was so happy to see us! His tail wagged like crazy and he was so full of love. It felt really amazing to have this instant connection with this puppy of the mountains.



He was on his way down the mountain while we were on our way up. After kissing and hugging us for a few minutes, we thought he would continue on his way down. Instead, he joined us for the rest of the hike! He led the way up the mountain. Thus, we named him "El Guia" (the guide).



The sign says: Silence. Listen to the song of the birds. 1.09 km to the lake.


After going up, up, up for a while, we finally reached El Mirador, an excellent view of Laguna Chicabal. This is a lake that is scared to the Mayans.



After the Mirador, the descent to the lake involves going down 600+ steep, slippery steps.



El Guia says, "come on slow pokes!"



Then we arrived. It was incredibly peaceful and beautiful. We saw a couple groups of Mayans who circled the lake. We sat down and silently watched how the clouds danced over the lake, until the lake was covered completely. We shared our graham crackers with El Guia.










It was a fantastic hike! We were back at the highway around 11am or so, tired but feeling happy and wonderful. We jumped in a packed "microbus" for the ride back to Xela, and our day only got more colorful. The microbus drove through all the Mayan villages, picking up everyone along the road. It was a window into their homes and lives.

When we got back to Xela, we took off our hiking shoes and enjoyed a lovely lunch.

Xela

We just completed our first week of Spanish school in Xela. The week felt very slow to me, I think because every day was so mentally draining. Our classes were in the afternoons. So, we’d have the mornings to ourselves to study, wander around the city, and chat with our host mom, and then we’d go to school from 2pm-7pm for our one-on-one classes. I’ve literally gotten to the point that when I’m lying in bed at night, unable to sleep, I can’t help but conjugate verbs.

Not only do we spend five hours at school working on the language, we spend at least an hour and a half every day conversing with our host mom. We talk a lot about food, since our conversation always happens at the table. It turns out that we are super lucky because she is super health-conscious and all about eating natural, fresh goodness. All the food she makes is excellent and healthy. A couple days ago she made us soymilk. I mean, made the actual soymilk. Seriously.

Ryan and I are also trying to speak to each other in Spanish as much as possible. Of course we slip out of it sometimes, especially when we want to speak quickly or passionately about something, but we’re trying.

All this language study has already paid off. In every store or restaurant or public place we’ve been to, we’ve been able to communicate with people in their language. This feels totally awesome. The other day we ran around Xela to several different travel agencies, trying to find the cheapest plane ticket out of Guatemala to the next chapter of our journey. This is an example of some searching and explaining and discussing that happened all in Spanish.

A couple days ago a really crazy storm passed through. It’s the rainy season here and it rains every afternoon, pretty much all afternoon. I still haven’t gotten used to it. Everything gets wet and the city doesn’t have anywhere near the infrastructure necessary to deal with all the water. Anyway, the rain that came on Thursday was unusually strong. Ryan and I were in class when it hit. I was sitting with my teacher outside by the courtyard (in a covered area) and I saw the brightest lightning I’ve ever seen in my life. It was practically blinding. And I heard the loudest thunder you can imagine. I mean, I was plugging my ears. It was insane. When we got out of class at 7pm, the streets were like rivers of mud. Water was flowing everywhere. I walked to the corner and a car drove by quickly and splashed mud all over me. It was pretty gross, but I guess it was kind of funny too (at least Ryan seemed to think so). Still, soaked and mud-covered, we made our way to Salon Tecun.

Salon Tecun is the oldest bar in Guatemala. The place was packed with locals, and a random mix of local and American songs (e.g. Michael Jackson’s “Black or White”) were blaring. There was a soccer game on the TV that the entire population of the bar aaawwwwwwed and oooooohhhhhhed with. People were clapping and cheering and getting angry. I loved seeing all that excitement around me! Then, a man came up to our table and asked us first if we speak Spanish. We said yes (yes!), and then he explained to us that everyone was so passionate in the bar because it was a game between Xela’s team and a team from El Salvador. So, there was a lot of local pride. I thought it was so cool how he just offered that information to us. He wanted us to know what we were in the middle of. Then, Ryan and I got into it too!

I also enjoyed a particularly interesting cultural experience yesterday. Ryan and I took a little walk in the central plaza. There, we were witnesses to Xela’s one and only “Festival de Heavy Metal”. We hung out for a little while and I just couldn’t get enough of it! It was so beautiful in a way. I found myself not looking at the stage at all, but rather at the crowd. It was filled with a bunch of teenage boys wearing all black and singing the lyrics while they were head banging. I just couldn’t get over it—-how they imported that music and made it their own. Maybe this can be seen as a lack of creativity, but I felt like they totally owned that culture. Or like they really identified with it.

I find myself constantly taking note of which aspects of life here are different from the life we know, and which parts of life in Xela and Houston seem to have no difference at all. I am always processing these observations. I guess there are a lot more differences than similarities. Or, maybe it’s easier to notice the differences.

The other day we found a place that feels like it could exist in Houston or Tel Aviv or New York. It’s a coffee shop, called El Cuartito, that feels like....I don’t even know how to describe the feeling. Home, maybe? Just pure goodness. All over the walls are works of art by local artists. What music were they playing during our first visit there? The album “March of the Zapotec” by Beirut. One of my favorites. Seats are lined with beautiful, unique pillows with the cutest buttons in the center. I had some ridiculously good banana bread. El Cuartito has a lovely mix of locals and travelers. We are actually back there right now. Ryan is reading. I'm totally digging the M.I.A. they're playing (Blaine--you know which song).





This morning we had a fantastic adventure, but it is one that deserves an entry of its own.

Closing remarks….I am about average height here. Sometimes I’m tall. Ryan is a giant. He regularly, daily bumps his head.

A Farewell to Dorms

Antigua was a lot of fun. We did a lot of walking, reading, writing and relaxing.

The last two of the four nights we stayed in Antigua were spent in the dormitory of the hostel. It wasn’t as comfortable as the private room we had for the previous two nights but we saved a little cash and got to meet our dormmates (three Irish lads, all named Bryan). We also saved a little money by cooking some rice, beans and eggs for lunch.







We had a blast on our last night after discovering Café No Sé. The beers were a little pricy and it was a bit “too cool for school” (the no-play song list included Jeff Buckley) but we met some good people. Some were working on dissertations; some were working on their next boarding pass; and some were just living in Antigua. The owner of Café No Sé came from NYC 10-20 years ago with only $400 in his pocket. Now he only returns to the U.S. to sell/market his brand of mescal.





At about 10 pm Sheer started giving me the “ok, that’s enough” look so we headed back to the hostel to get some decent sleep before our five hour bus ride to Xela in the morning. Our dorm was vacant when we arrived so we got to pack our things and prepare for bed in privacy. I climbed up in my top bunk; Sheer settled in her bottom bunk; we turned off the lights and said “night, night.” Then… a few hours later: the Irish lads returned. One of the Irish lads, Bryan, had found himself a little Guatemalan princess. The lights remained off; there was some whispering; and then they laid down in bed together. They were silent in bed for about 1 minute then… the 1 hour soundtrack began. My first thought was “Sheer is going to flip out.” Sheer has no reservations when it comes to shhh-ing talkers at the movie theatre so I knew that if she knew what was going on just a few feet from her feet… something would hit the non-existent and much needed fan. Luckily, Sheer had some good quality earplugs and she slept through the event in blissful ignorance.

The next morning we awoke and bused to Xela (Guatemala’s second largest city). It was really rainy and there was a lot of debris on the roads due to mudslides, but we made it to the highlands.

Our Spanish immersion school is great! One student, one teacher and one table for 5 hours. It’s really intense but it feels great to learn so rapidly.
Sheer and I are living with the same family but in different rooms. We live only 2 blocks from school.

Our school,


Our mom,


Sheer's room,


Sheer's room,


My room to the left and Sheer's room straight ahead,


I’d like to write more about Xela, the school and our new home but I have lunch coming up and then school. Also, we’ll be here for 4 weeks.

Thanks for the comments, we love them!

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