My pictures from my trip are on my facebook. For those of you without facebook, here´s the link for your enjoyment:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2311038&id=19200016&l=b83dca2481
September 29th – October 6th
I’d love to say that some exciting stuff happened this week, but I can’t. I spent the entire week helping my kids prepare their presentation and improve their business plan for the business competition. Additionally, I did a final edit through of the new MINED curriculum for our class. Brie and Katie Earle (a business volunteer in my group) rewrote the curriculum (I rewrote the marketing section) since it will be an official course in every high school in the country next year. After getting feedback from the national MINED delegation, they have to go through and edit again. Unfortunately, when they do this, they change all the formatting. This ends up making the whole document look inconsistent and messy. I took on the job of formatting editor and I had to go through the actual guia (guide) for the teachers and then a class-by-class breakdown document as well.
Friday I went to León to help with final preparations for our business competition. I ran around following up on people who might donate money, buying things for the competition, and hanging out with the new volunteer in Telica (the town closest to León that we have a business volunteer in). I mixed in more visits with my kids with day trips to Johani’s farm. These trips were brief however due to the incredible amount of time my kids spent at my house working on their project (4 8-hour days in a row). It was 6 PM on Sunday (the day before the competition) before we finished. Unfortunately my kids walked away with a tie for 6th place, which was disappointing considering how solid their presentation and business plan were. That’s how it goes sometimes. We caught one of the afternoon busses home and rolled into Achuapa right before dinnertime.
That night I was running around like a mad man trying to prepare everything before I went to Guatemala. I ended up getting my clothes washed, but that was really the only thing I did. I was stressing out about everything (I had to bring my enormous backpacking backpack instead of my normal blue one and this bothered me) and pretty much didn’t do anything except make dinner. But really, whats more important than eating?
On the 6th, I finally packed my bag and got everything ready during the morning. I had to skip my morning workout session (I hate doing this) because I just didn’t have enough time if I wanted to get on the noon bus out of Achuapa. The bus ride passed by super quickly because I was completely into in the book I was reading (the 3rd Harry Potter book). Once in León, I checked into the hotel and kept reading (almost finished!) until Brie showed up a little later. We did our last errands, bought some food for the bus ride, ate dinner, and got to bed at a semi-reasonable hour (we had to be at the bus stop at 5 AM!).
October 7th – September 20th
The day I thought would never arrive finally did – vacation day. I was paranoid about missing the bus that I woke up every 2 hours to check my clock to make sure the alarm was going to go off. Once up, we threw all our stuff together and caught a cab to the bus stop. There were 4 other people waiting there, and the bus finally rolled around at 6 and we were off to El Salvador. Surprisingly, there were only around 10 people on the bus though. I expected all international busses to be completely packed. That’s how it always was in Europe and South America, so I had no reason to expect anything else here, but I had no complaints. It was definitely a cushy bus (I’d say it was second to only the bus I took from Córdoba to Mendoza in Argentina) and air conditioned to boot. The bus flew through Nicaragua and Honduras without stopping. When we got to the El Salvador border, things were a whole lot more hardcore than anything we’d encountered thus far. They checked the bags, 2 people got on the bus: one checking carry on’s, the other checking passports. There was a positive spin to this more thorough check – food vendors swarmed the bus. Now you may think that this is but a side note, but it is actually quite significant – El Salvador has pupusas, which is incredibly tasty. It’s a sort of corn tortilla stuff with cheese, but can also have meat and beans. Whether you’ve been drinking or not, it always hits the spots when you’ve got the munchies.
One thing that really surprised us about Honduras and particularly El Salvador was how hilly the countries are. In the northwestern half of Nicaragua it’s pretty flat and dry, but El Salvador and Honduras were more lush and hilly. I had initially pictured all the Central American countries as having a relatively similar geography, but that just isn’t the case. Furthermore, I thought the socio-economic status of the countries was relatively similar, but here too I was mistaken. Honduras and El Salvador are far more developed from a westerner’s point of view. It makes you think what it is that drives development (I have an idea but I can’t speculate on this since im a government employee) and why it is that Nicaragua isn’t on par economically with its neighbor’s up north.
We’d been told by a couple of people that there are 2 Ticabus stations in San Salvador, the first one is in a super nice embassy neighborhood, and the second (where the bus leaves from) is a super shady neighborhood in the city center. I asked the driver about this, and he gave me a really unclear answer. We’d been told that there was a hotel at the first stop, so I inquired further:
“I was told to get off at the first terminal because it’s a nice neighborhood”
“No, that stop is way out of the city.”
“But it’s in the city limits?”
“Barely.”
“Well, does the Guatemala bus stop at it in the morning?”
“No. It’s just a Ticabus office, not a terminal. The only terminal is San Carlos.”
Thoroughly confused and unsatisfied, I went back to my seat. A man I’d struck up a conversation (who lived in San Salvador) with back at the border told me that the first station was the one to get off at because the second one was in a super dangerous neighborhood (and the bus would pass by in the morning). With our minds made up, we decided to get off there. Once we arrived, we saw that there was a hotel right above the Ticabus office.
“What time does the bus pass by in the morning?”
“I don’t know, go ask inside.”
Thanks jackass. It was then that we discovered the potential reason for the bus driver outright lying about the presence of this other hotel in a nice neighborhood – the hotel wasn’t owned by Ticabus like the other one was. That’s shady business there. The hotel cost a meager 12 dollars per person, but didn’t come with TV or air conditioning. The strange thing about this price was that there in fact was a TV, but we weren’t given the remote because we didn’t pay to use the TV.
After dropping off our stuff and getting a quick shower, we asked the reception for the nearest super market (we had to see what El Salvador had that Nicaragua didn’t). The stroll to the super market brought us past an enormous pharmacy (like a Walgreens – a concept unheard of in Nicaragua), and a ton of restaurants. We weren’t too clear about where it was, so I asked a guy walking the opposite way. This man was friendly and knew exactly what he was talking about. If you ask somebody in Nicaragua, they’ll tell you it’s close, which could mean anywhere from a block to a mile away. They’ll always give you an answer, whether they know or not – they just want to help you. So it was nice to get solid directions – he even told me how many blocks to walk and how many meters from the corner the grocery store was. The store reminded me of the US – nuts and dried fruits could be bought in bulk; they had broccoli, coliflower, strawberries, but no bananas (go figure). They also had other amazing things we don’t have in Nicaragua – like A&W root beer, and even had German wheat beer (a nice change over the beer we have in Nicaragua). We spent a good hour in the store just browsing the shelves and seeing so many things we hadn’t seen in a while (for me, all the new things I hadn’t seen since being in the U.S. last May). Basically, it felt like walking into a Whole Foods (one section resembled it almost perfectly). The kicker was that we were paying in dollars. It was so weird using a currency I was so familiar with but unfamiliar with at the same time. Every place I bought something at gave me change in mostly dimes and nickels – quarters seem to be scarce as I only got a few. I was anticipating culture shock when I go back to the states in December, but I never would’ve guessed I’d have culture shock going to another Central American country. That night we grabbed dinner at the hotel (more pupusas and a beer I spilled all over the table) before turning in early (had to be ready for the 5 AM bus the next morning).
The next day was one that started early, and ended late. We were up at 4:30 so we had time to get ready and pack our stuff before the bus showed up. After checking in (In line I met a Mexican architect who built stuff for all the rich Nicaraguans in Miami after the fall of the Somoza regime in 1979 – he might have been lying. He also told me he had a great store in Guatemala – a store that is only open on Saturdays), we hopped on the bus for the “short” 5-hour trip into Guatemala City. The geography of Guatemala was much like that of El Salvador – incredibly hilly and green. We also saw something that seemed to indicate that it was a more developed country – a waterpark.
When we rolled into Guatemala City, we were astounded – the city was absolutely enormous (and could be seen from the point on the mountain we came in from). Furthermore, it had skyscrapers – not millions of feet tall U.S. skyscrapers, but it was still something that we don’t have in Nicaragua (the biggest building I’ve seen in the country is 7 stories tall – the 1970’s earthquake that destroyed all of Managua probably caused this phenomenon).
We got into the bus terminal around 11:30 and it was packed, although it’s only serviced by Ticabus. When in the station, I talked to a lady who got on the bus in Nicaragua – she had gotten off at the second station in El Salvador. Her experience can be summed up with one word – terrible. Apparently there were people coming in and out of the hotel until 3 AM, the neighborhood was super sketchy, and she had to wake up early for the bus because they had to come pick us up at our hotel. At least she got a story worthy experience.
Following our quick break in the station, we grabbed our stuff and went to go catch a taxi. The thing that really, well sucks, about going to another country like this is that the taxi’s don’t have meters (or most of them anyway). In Nicaragua we’re super wary of taxi’s due to the huge number of people that get kidnapped/robbed/assaulted on top of being hugely overcharged. To get an idea of how much it would cost to get to where we were going, I asked somebody at Ticabus how much a taxi would cost to this other bus stop. They told me it would be about 15 Quetzales (a little less than 2 bucks). I looked on the map and thought that was super cheap given the distance we’d be going, but I rolled with it. I asked a couple of cab drivers how much it would run – 10 to 12 bucks. I take being ripped off very poorly (even though it probably wasn’t 2 dollars, it was definitely less than 10), and I’m pretty sure I pissed them off (I have a pretty abrasive/harsh bargaining style), so I let Brie negotiate with the next driver. She got it for 8, so we hopped in and went to the other bus station.
At the other bus station we made a reservation on the next bus that was heading to Tikal – 2 hours later. It was around 40 round trip, which really isn’t that bad considering we were travelling 625 miles and 16 hours round trip. It was significantly cooler in Guatemala (the temperature was 75 or colder almost everyday we were there), so Brie set out to buy a heavier shirt to deal with the temperatures. A little later she came back with a used Gap shirt that she bought for 5 Quetzales, or about 63 cents. This was also an amazing discovery – clothes in Nicaragua are incredibly expensive for what they are. I’d probably pay around 10 dollars for a used shirt in my town.
The two hours passed pretty quickly, and before we knew it, the bus showed up (which unfortunately was a bus that more like a U.S. quality long distance bus). The ride in this more uncomfortable bus turned out to be super wearing. The air conditioning was incredibly cold (I just had a t-shirt on), and the bus driver was crazy. I thought Nicaraguan drivers were crazy, but I was clearly mistaken, because Guatemalan bus drivers definitely take the trophy for ballsiest drivers. We were in one of the first few rows, so I was able to see everything the bus almost hit – which was pretty much everything. When Nica drivers are flying down the road and want to pass, they’ll go around, but if there’s another car coming and they can’t make it, they’ll pull back into their lane. In Guatemala on the other hand, our bus driver was playing chicken with many smaller vehicles that we ended up forcing into the opposite shoulder so we didn’t plow into them.
The road to the town we were going to (about an hour from Tikal) was on par with the quality of any highway in the U.S. and we were flying the whole way there. The surprising thing was the amount of development on the side of the road. Tikal is up near the Mexican/Belize border, so I expected it to be pretty desolate, but the whole drive up there was like driving through the suburbs. It was rare when there weren’t buildings on the side of the road. Not only that, but there were streetlights the whole way there – we don’t have streetlights on the highways in Nicaragua.
Finally we rolled into Santa Elena around 10:30 and were beyond exhausted. On top of being exhausted, we had to negotiate with taxi drivers who wanted to rip us off. We didn’t really know where we were (the bus station location had changed from where it was on the map I had), and we asked how much a ride would cost – 5 dollars. Yea right. We got him down to 2 and hopped in for him to drive us a whole 3 blocks. We gave him a 5-dollar bill and asked for change. He looked at us as if we had just given him a Chinese newspaper, “What do I do with this?” Not in the mood to deal with him, I gave him 2 bucks and we checked into our hotel room.
The next morning we were well rested (we decided to sleep in a bit instead of leaving on a 5 AM shuttle for Tikal), and were due to leave for Tikal at around 9 on a shuttle. The shuttle showed up a little late and we then went up and picked up 4 other people before heading out of town around quarter to 10. We picked up some guy on the side of the road on the way there who apparently worked for the company that the shuttle owned. When we were rolling into Tikal, this new guy mentioned that it would be 150 Quetzales per person to go into the park or if we “wanted to save” and pay 100 Quetzales per person instead, we should talk to him. We asked why there was such a huge difference between the prices, and he said that you just don’t get the paper ticket. That sounded fine to us, so we went with it.
The shuttle parked and we soon discovered why it was 100 a piece – we were illegally entering the park. He immediately brought us into the forest and we walked along an aquaduct and threw thick vegetation until we popped out on a path.
“Where the hell are we going?”
“The Temple of the Inscriptions.”
We kept walking up the path as he narrated the Mayan history but all the while Brie and I just kept talking about what exactly was going on. When I told her what I’d read about this path we going to (in Lonely Planet it says that in the past people have been assaulted and raped on this path, but security had greatly improved), that was the end of that temple visit. We were both uncomfortable and unsure about what exactly the deal was, so we paid him and hightailed it to the main plaza.
Once in the plaza, we finally started enjoying ourselves – the ruins were amazing. The main plaza was the most uncovered out of all the ruins in Tikal and absolutely breathtaking. It consists of 2 temples that face eachother with two sorts of “neighbourhoods” on each side. Furthermore, it’s not just a couple pyramids but dozens of ruins over an incredible amount of land. I’d guess that it’s a couple square miles of land with various pyramids, altars, living residences, aquaducts, and various other random areas, like astronomical viewing areas. It’s really quite remarkable to see how advanced a civilization that lived thousands of years ago was. The highest temple that we climbed was 55 meters tall, and it’s amazing that they were constructed without modern construction equipment. The pyramids also coordinate to cardinal directions as well which is remarkable. Even though we pretty much went non-stop from Nicaragua all the way up to Tikal to spend around 6 hours there, it was definitely worth it. Along with Iguazu in Argentina, Tikal is the most amazing thing I’ve seen in my travels thus far. To make the whole experience that much more special – we had perfect blue sky with big fluffy clouds. We’d been a tad concerned about going to Guatemala in the heart of the rainy season, but thus far it wasn’t affecting us at all (the whole region is in a drought – unfortunate for farmers, fortunate for travelling).
We were so drawn into the ruins and their awesomeness that we didn’t each anything until we got out of the park. Initially we were just going to hop on the shuttle and go back to Santa Elena and eat there. We asked the shuttle driver when he was leaving, and he said that if we were the only ones leaving, he was going to wait until the next hour (the shuttles leave on the hour with the last ones leaving at 4, 5 and 6. Since he said we wouldn’t be leaving, we headed over to a restaurant and get some food. Right after ordering, the shuttle driver came over and said that more people came and that he’d be leaving and there wouldn’t be another shuttle. Upset at the lack of responsibility this company appeared to exercise (breaking us into the park now this?) we demanded he find out. He called his bosses and they said they would send another bus afterwards. That was enough to calm our nerves so we were able to eat happily. We downed this much needed food and saw upon exiting that the driver hadn’t even left – he’d waited for us with the other people that had showed up earlier. Have no fear, he did fail us again: when we got back to the town we were staying in, instead of dropping us off at the hotel (they picked us up at the hotel), he just dropped us off in front of their office and told us our hotel was down the street. “Thanks buddy.” All in all, they get an F for service. Had Tikal not been everything we’d hoped for plus more, I’d have taken this very poorly. They’re lucky they have such an amazing ruins to soothe the nerves of their customers after they provide their crummy service.
Once back at the hotel, we had a handful of hours to wait until we had to catch our bus back to Guatemala City. During this time, I ran around like a madman in search of a pay phone (to confirm our reservation in another hotel) and an ATM that would work for me. After finding one and getting back to the hotel where Brie had been waiting, we decided to catch the bus that left an hour earlier so as not to wait longer in the hotel. When we arrived at the terminal, the bus was getting ready to go, but we were able to switch our tickets for the last seats available on the bus. With regards to quality, the bus was up there with those of Ticabus, and we got the front row seats on the top of the bus (it was a two level bus). The improved comfort meant that we were able to catch some needed zzz’s on the way back to Guatemala City.
The bus ride back to the capital city flew by and we were pretty well rested when we rolled in. Our negotiating skills had improved and we got a cab ride to the next bus terminal for 6 dollars. However, we felt kind of badly because this ride was definitely the same distance or longer than the trip from the Ticabus station a few days ago. At the station (the side of the road), we were told that the bus (which I’m guessing was a big impressive bus) had already left but we could take a big bus to San Marcos. We were going to San Marcos La Laguna, but I assumed this was the same place (you can probably see where this is going). The cobrador on the bus told us it’d take about 5 hours, and according to the PC Guatemala volunteer who lived there, that sounded more or less about what it should’ve been. It was a schoolbus like we were used to in Nicaragua, but this one was a lot more “upgraded”. They’d installed a TV and VCR, and the interior didn’t show the wear and tear that our busses show in Nicaragua.
The bus driver was as equally crazy as the driver who had driven us to Tikal the other day and would take the turns going so fast that he would lean into them. Understandably, everytime we would make a turn, Brie and I would fly into eachother. A couple of hours into the ride, we hit a traffic jam of some sort. Our bus driver was having none of this (either busses in Guatemala are on a schedule or he’s just really impatient), and he pulled a U-turn in the middle of the highway. In the process of this U-turn, we crashed into the truck in front of us, and hit the roof of a shop on the side of the road, but we got out! The bus then headed down what seemed to be a highway that was under construction. There were other cars on this path, so it seemed that we were heading in the right direction. After getting off the highway, we pulled onto a super small dirt road (it’s width was just a little wider than the bus) that wound through a cornfield and next to a solid dirt wall. After navigating the inaugural journey down this newfound “highway”, which also took us through the middle of a soccer field, we got back on the main road.
Our first main stop was in Quetzalguaque or “Xela” (pronounced shela) as it is called (I’d probably give it a nickname too, some Guatemalan cities have brutal names). It was complete chaos and I it was here that Guatemala loses out to the bus stations we have in Nicaragua. It didn’t appear that there was any sort of structure – it was like being stuck in traffic with 50 different busses.
We departed after around 30 minutes in the “terminal,” and went straight into the mountains. This yielded more high-speed turns for the next few hours. Before long, we saw signs for San Marcos, San Pedro, as well as other towns whose names I recognised from the guidebook. However, each time we passed through one, there was one notable characteristic that was missing – Lago Atitlán. I kept thinking, “It’s impossible that we’re passing through all these towns whose names I recognise from the lake region and have their be no lake.” We rolled into San Pedro, which has the reputation of being a party town, and I was struck by the size of it – it would rival Nicaraguan cities in terms of size. I guessed that would coincide with a party town, but I was still wondering where the lake was. We then saw a sign for “San Marcos Touristic Area” – this I thought would surely mark the start of the lake. And I was wrong. We were in San Marcos all right, and all the names I recognised were definitely names from the guidebook, but they were also cities that had the exact same names in practically the same order as the small towns that are on Lago Atitlán. Who thought to do that?
Realising that we were in the wrong San Marcos, that we’d been on a bus for 14 consecutive hours, that we were 4 hours away from our actual destination, and that we’d have to spend the night in this San Marcos, that we’d crisscrossed the country and were about an hour from the Mexican border (again), was all too much for me. I had as much of a meltdown as I’ve ever had and I just closed up – that was the end of social interaction from me for the next 30 minutes. Afterwards, it was funny, but in the moment it was too shocking for me to comprehend.
We walked to the closest hotel we could find where we caught the staff equally off guard. It was as if we were the first non-Guatemalans they’d seen in their entire lives. After my meltdown, I went to the cyber to find out exactly where the hell we were (at that point, we had no idea), and to buy some lunch since we were absolutely starving. I checked online at a cyber to find out exactly where it was we were and I paid with 10 Quetzales. Seeing this bill triggered the following response from the boy that was working. “Do you have anything smaller?” For those of you not paying attention before, the conversion rate is 8 Quetzales to a dollar. So I was paying him $1.25 for 50 cents of Internet time. I did not have anything smaller, so he gave me my change, for the most part in 10-centavo coins – which is a little more than a penny (1.25 cents for those of you that are interested). I later found out that day that there is a 5-centavo coin as well.
Having acquired all this new change, I tried to call our hotel that we were supposed to arrive at, but nobody picked up. Then I set out looking for food. The terminal, which reminded me of a plaza in Denver (16th and Market), had no food, so I wandered down the street until I found a vendor selling chicken. The guy making the chicken told me to wait a few minutes until it was done, so while I did, I tried chatting up the people that were next to me. Immediately it became clear that they did not understand me – because they didn’t speak Spanish. I hadn’t realised there were so many native Guatemalans (I read some figure that said 30% in San Marcos are indigenous Guatemalans), but this yielded quite the awkward moment, as if being the only white guy in the whole town wasn’t awkward enough.
Food in hand, I went back to the hotel where the soccer team that was occupying all the other rooms in the hotel were having their last meal before leaving. Brie was passed out in the room and following me knocking for so long I thought that she had left, she opened the door and we ate the much needed, and surprisingly tasty food. It seems Guatemalans enjoy spicy food! Afterwards, Brie headed off to procure us some warmer clothes since we were freezing (it was definitely in the 50s that night). Thirty minutes and less than 7 dollars later, we donned some sweatshirts that made taking a nap…possible. Post-nap, we headed out to grab some dinner (travelling is tough on your body), and found a tiny comedor where we got a great dinner (and black beans – something super uncommon in Nicaragua). No longer dreading (but not exactly delighting in) this detour we made, we headed back to the hotel and went to sleep early.
Come morning, we were ready to get to the lakeside vacation we’d planned on. This time around the cobrador lied to us about a smaller microbus leaving at that hour, but there was nothing we could’ve done with it – at least we were leaving. The ride back to Xela was as jarring as our past experiences had been, and we spent the majority of the ride listening to the native Mayan language that some kids were speaking. It’s a language that’s full of harsh short sounds and we couldn’t understand anything. With most languages I’ve felt I’ve been able to distinguish some words, or at least I’d be able to write down what it sounds like, but with this language it was impossible. It’d definitely be an interesting language to learn.
Once in Xela, we got off only to find that where we wanted to go was where the bus was going (I’ve been told that before). Luckily, there was a guy on the bus who was going to the same place, so we were able to get off when he did, but that’s not to say I wasn’t worried – I probably looked over at him every 15 seconds for 45 minutes to make sure, as Brie said, that he didn’t jump out the window at the stop. Fortunately, he made no mad dash out the window, and we got off at our stop, Los Encuentros, with no problem.
The bus going to Panajachel (or Pana as the call it there) was much more like a Nicaraguan bus – packed. Though we were still able to get a seat, it was a lot more familiar. One new thing we noticed on the busses this morning was how when there were not enough seats, people would sit inbetween the seats. The seat cushions were close enough that somebody could plant a cheek on each side and sit without falling. Sometimes this option was chosen over going to a seat in the rear of the bus.
Following a short ride down the mountain, we ended up in Sololá, which was host to a beautiful church and a big park. We were under the notion that this was Panajachel, but that was quickly proved wrong when a cobrador on the other side of the park started yelling “Panajachel!” We hopped in, huge backpacks and all, and Brie smashed her head on the doorway of the bus for a souveneir that she’ll never forget. The ride to Pana was even shorter than the one to Sololá, and not knowing we had arrived, got off a stop later. Fortunately, it was just a short stroll down the road to get to Pana, but being one who asks things a million times just for confirmation, I asked a police officer how to get to the docks (we had to take a boat to San Marcos La Laguna). His directions consisted of telling me that I should keep walking until I reach the police officer that is wearing the same reflective vest that he’s wearing. I suppose that’s a pretty useful way to go about giving directions – send people in the right direction towards somebody who is closer and will have a clearer idea. From police officer number 2, we made our way to the docks with the unsolicited help of some guy who may or may not have been working for the boats that took us to San Marcos.
The boats are exactly like busses, but in boat form, which was a more “vacation way” to deal with transportation. We stopped in a few villages before arriving in San Marcos La Laguna (travelling by boat confirmed the fact that we were indeed at the correct San Marcos). After jumping out on the dock, Raúl, a boy of fourteen (I’d have guessed he was 10 or younger), walked us to our hotel (once again without asking for the help). Yet we were so overjoyed to be where we were supposed to be that Raúl earned himself a few Quetzales for his help.
Our “hotel” was really nothing like what you’d think of a hotel. All the buildings were separate and had thatch roofs on them. To reach any building you took a short, narrow path that had an abundance of plants that seemed to envelop the paths completely. Moreso, there were only 6 rooms in the hotel which really takes away the hotel feel to it. It felt a lot more like a small community – particularly after we were brought to our room (there were no formalities to checking in, I just said I had a reservation, “Ah! Richard!” and apparently that was the password). Our “room” was less of a room and more of a house. We first passed through a bamboo door that, it turned out, was the door to our entryway. The path leading to the door winded around the side of the bungalow, which was all windows (the natural light was great), to a door that too was a couple of windows. After showing us our room, the staff (a handful of local Mayans) member left. “I thought it had a bathroom.” Brie mentioned. It was then that I saw another door in our “compound” sort of hotel room – a door to the bathroom. The roof of the bathroom was a sort of semi-transparent sheet of plastic that let in generous amounts of life, as if that was needed. The toilet had a door closing to it, the sink was completely exposed, and 2 small rooms – a towel room, and the shower – were next to the sink. What made it even cooler were the vines and plants that came down into the shower – it was just like how you’d picture a “tropical paradise” shower!
After we were able to close our jaws and had unpacked, we grabbed some breakfast in their restaurant (a vegetarian restaurant). Here too we were amazed with the hotel we were in (something like a dream it seemed) – the food was incredible too. Following our meal, we wandered through the numerous footpaths that surrounded the lakeside part of San Marcos. On this stroll, one thing became abundantly clear – this place was full of hippies. Being an absolutely beautiful place, this has attracted people that have money to build a house on the lake, and huge quantities of holistic/spiritual/natural healing places. I counted no less than 7 places that offered everything from acupuncture and massages to crystal healing and a lunar meditation course. What stands out about this is that the town is the size of mine – about 3,000 – and yet it has an amazingly huge tourist industry. What’s even more shocking is that it’s a Peace Corps site. I would probably go nuts if I were placed in a site where so many white people, hippies specifically, were roaming and destroying the natural charm/feeling of the town. Props to her for being able to manage it.
We wandered around a bit more, we returned to our room and chilled out for the majority of the day before enjoying our first dinner that night (and did we enjoy it!). This dinner was strange in two ways: first, vegetarian shepherds pie was by far the last thing I expected to be eating on a trip to Guatemala. Second, even though she’s Irish, Brie had never in her life tried shepherds pie. What stood out about meals in the restaurant was the sheer amount of food that we were given, a stark contrast to how meals generally are in Nicaragua restaurants. The last time I’d eaten so much food in one sitting was last Thanksgiving. This is how all the meals in the hotel were to go – amazing and amazingly filling.
That first day we only ventured along the main (and only) road in town, just checking around to see what it is that the town offered. We found the hotel where we would have stayed, the local pulperias, the hippy-dippy places, and a restaurant owned by a former Guatemala Peace Corps volunteer’s husband. He chatted us up a bit, about Obama winning the Nobel Peace Prize (which we were completely oblivious to), Peace Corps, and a handful of other subjects. We had a satisfying lunch there and bought some locally made chocolate that is made in one of the towns on the lake. Surprisingly the food left us really full (every meal ended with this feeling), so for dinner we ventured up to the main road and got some Guatemalan street food. Their principal street food is essentially a nacatamale (a cornlike pie with meat in it) but they spice theirs up with their spicy artificial hot sauce – which just makes the meal that much tastier.
The next day, following another meal that overwhelmed our senses (a fruit salad with yoghurt, honey, and homemade granola), we decided to go kayaking. We’d initially planned to rent the kayaks from a particular guy we’d talk to the previous day, but he was nowhere to be found. Being the tourist destination it is, we found another one that was run by local mayans, which incidentally is the only local owned and run tourist catered business in town.
Simply getting the kayaks was a journey – we crossed the whole town, a soccer field and various docks before the kayaks were pulled out from the side of a house. We rented a two-person kayak, which was fortunate (for me anyhow) because the water was kind of choppy, and just got worse as time progressed. Being the first time I’d ever kayaked, I thoroughly enjoyed it. We had initially planned on being out for 3 hours, but due to the rough waters and a storm that was blowing over one of the volcanoes, a sandy beach we’d been aiming for had to be put off for another day. Getting back took a whole lot more effort than it took getting there, but after realising that the kayak would indeed float, I was less apprehensive and ignored the fact that I didn’t have a life preserver and can’t swim. As we got closer to the shore, the problem that we thought we’d encounter indeed was one – we had no idea where’d we’d left from, “Was it that hill right there?” For some reason, the guy we’d rented from was at the shore and waving for us to come in (even though we told him we wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half). We dropped off the kayak and back at his little tourist hut, we talked to him about the climate, the plants, and life in San Marcos. Following the informational session, he sent us off with a fresh jocote (a fruit, that while sweet, leaves a sort of film on your teeth that dissuades me enough to not eat them in Nicaragua). Later that night, we enjoyed a Mayan Sauna, which I initially thought was an oven and after learning it indeed was a sauna, was reluctant to get in. Despite thinking I would be baked, it was a new positive experience. Unfortunately for us though, this would be the only time we would enjoy it (it’s a small space, and it would be quite awkward being confined to it with other people). For dinner, we bought some whole wheat bread (the perk of having hippies around, “All natural man!”), an avocado, and some honey. That was a perfect and completely satisfying meal.
We started the next morning once again with an amazing meal in the hotel. Since we’d been kayaking the day before, this day would be our first “relaxing day” of our vacation thus far. I put a sizeable dent in a new book I’d been dying to read for so long, Oracle Bones by Peter Hessler. This day encompassed what I’d always hoped out of a vacation. Since we didn’t have anything big planned, we ventured over to the hotel we would have stayed at to have a drink. Can you have a vacation without alcohol? Their restaurant/bar offered an amazing view of the lake, but the prices for…well, everything made me glad that we stayed where we were. It was the first time I’d had a White Russian (I’d tried one before that was amazing), but this time around it didn’t suit me. Some people like really boozy drinks, and it was, but not enjoying drinking it’s just not my style. After a drink there, we headed to the hotel next door to ours to get some Mexican food. We split a plate of tasty food here, but got even worse drinks than we did before – these didn’t even have alcohol in them. My mojito looked like a health drink because the mint was blended in it. This left me 0 for 2 on drinks. Dinner filled us up too much, so we once again opted for some tasty whole wheat bread along with a sort of banana nut bread that was made in a shop down the path from our hotel.
Thursday we got up early and ate before going kayaking again, but this time we rented from the guy who we’d planned to rent from the first time around. For kayaking, the day couldn’t have been better. The weather was beautiful and the water was wave-free. The kayaks left a little more to be desired though and we weren’t able to clip along at quite the same rate as we were in the other kayaks. To top that off I couldn’t kayak in a straight line, just to the right. In spite of this unconscious drive to always go right, we made it to the unreached beach from our first kayaking experience to find that it was a tiny strip of beach, and not the perfect white sand beach mirage that I saw from way out on the lake. Having reached our goal, we turned around and got back to San Marcos on Goggins time (with loads of time to spare). Once back, we chatted with the kayak guy who it appeared spoke Spanish as a second language (he had a phrase that he dropped constantly, like a person from Massachusetts would always say “wicked”).
Post-kayaking, we headed off to the main event of our day – a massage. We figured that if we were there, we might as well take advantage of what those hippies have to offer. I got a sports massage that was a mixture of Swedish, Shiat-su, deep tissue massage, and stretching. After never having had a massage before, I was super satisfied with how it went. However, I had always imagined that a massage would make me feel like I was walking on air (like yoga does), but it’s a different kind of good. That night, though we weren’t hungry, we tried to down one of the massive dinners that the hotel restaurant had, and we failed. Not just that, but we were so full we weren’t able to take advantage of the sauna which we were told was available. So instead, we chose the only viable option – sleep.
Friday, our last day in San Marcos, was not even spent there. We took the boat to Panajachel to look at the artesan goods that were sold along the streets – apparently this was the best place in the country to get them (like Masaya in Nicaragua). Additionally, we’d read that there was some sort of American market with “all the things you miss from home!” This claim was too good to turn down, so we headed on over. Getting there resembled the first day we were stumbling to the boats – we got directions from a policeman. The officer we talked to gave us the same directions, “Walk down the street until you see the guy who is dressed like me, he can tell you.” Like last time, the second guy knew exactly where we were talking about and told us where it was.
In the market, we were kind of disappointed because it wasn’t as big as they claimed (it was called the Pana Super – super means big here). Just when we’d lost hope on finding something we’d really wanted (dark chocolate), there it was at the entrance – Lindt Dark Chocolate…and truffles! Sweets in hand, we made it 3 feet outside of the store before eating our truffles…that we needed…for…energy. Yes. Energy. Newly energized, we went looking through the ventas negotiating. Really though, it was more Brie looking at the ventas and me going into every travel agency doing price comparison on shuttles going to Antigua the next day. For lunch we grabbed a pizza with some enormous milkshakes (a berry one – impossible to get in Nicaragua), thereby satisfying the strange craving I had the entire week for a pizza. We caught a boat back to San Marcos later in the afternoon and enjoyed our last dinner in the restaurant of our hotel (which we were smart enough to share this time around) before reading and heading to bed.
That morning, we woke up early to grab breakfast one last time. The fruit salad and French toast tasted that much more amazing, and I enjoyed it that much more knowing I wouldn’t eat such rich food for a while. We paid our bill, packed our bags and were out of the hotel and at the dock by 10 AM. From there we took our last boat ride across the lake and arrived in Panajachel with enough time for me to mail off a couple postcards.
Our shuttle for Antigua showed up a little late but after getting outside the city limits, there was some sort of mixup that resulted in us waiting at the side of the highway for a bigger shuttle to come get us (even though there were only 4 of us). As chance would have it, the placed where we stopped was a beautiful overlook of Panajachel and Lago Atitlán, so I grabbed one last memory.
The shuttle that eventually showed up was an enormous Mercedes 20-passenger vehicle…for just the 4 of us. Anyway, a couple hours later we arrived in Antigua at our hotel, which on the interior resembled an old 1900’s hotel with its incredibly intricate woodwork. The strange thing was that this hotel – much like every other place we’ve stayed in Guatemala – did not ask for our passports, names, or anything. They just gave us a room.
After leaving our stuff in the room, we took a walk through Antigua to discover the charms it offered (they say that it is how Granada is supposed to be). The town used to be the capital of Guatemala for some 230ish years – and because of this, I had high hopes. However, after strolling around for a few hours, I definitely got an idea of where all these good comments came from, but I find Granada to be a whole lot impressive (and I can’t stand Granada). I don’t know who brought the initial praise upon Antigua, but I expected a lot more for all the hype.
Before dinner, we headed back to our hotel to get cleaned up (along with taking the hottest shower I’d had in 2 years). Antigua’s other claim to fame is the food, so we were definitely going to take advantage of it – it is a vacation after all. The game plan was also to go a club, but this was the less desireable activity for the night (for me anyway). Initially, after our first walk through town, we’d decided to grab some fondue or go to the Irish pub for fish and chips – but both of them lost out to the jiving atmosphere that a Mexican restaurant had. Since it was the last real night of our vacation (the next night would be in Guatemala City, a place we were spending the night since we had to get to the bus terminal early), we just ordered anything we felt like, which was close to everything. The restaurant had a great atmosphere, amazing food, and the drinks finally fit the bill. Following this meal, we just weren’t feeling the club (I never was, but I talked Brie out of it), so we went home where I slept and Brie was kept awake the whole night by drunken morons running around the hotel (everybody should bring ear plugs).
My other high point in Antigua came the next morning at breakfast. We went to a bagel breakfast place that offered a 20% discount for Peace Corps volunteers – AWESOME. Antigua, you redeemed yourself with that one. Post-breakfast, we vacated our room, reserved a shuttle for Guatemala City, and Brie got a pedicure. We decided to eat at the Irish pub for lunch before we left (those fish and chips were calling our names). The pub was mostly empty, and fish and chips were only served on Fridays and Saturdays (why?). Also unfortunate was the steep price for a Guinness ($7.50), so I settled for a local beer. After a bowl of Irish stew, we killed a few hours before catching our shuttle to Guatemala City.
Our hotel in the city was near the airport (made a mile away), but it was in a gated community, which calmed our nerves (the main zone looked sketchy, and the city has some not so good neighbourhoods). The staff was SUPER nice and helpful and told us a good place to eat and get money would be the enormous Oakland Mall. They called us a taxi (a metered one at that!), whose driver was super friendly and gave us his card after dropping us off at the mall.
Now the mall – that was impressive. The difference between malls in the U.S. and malls in Central America (it seems) is that in the U.S. they’re for the middle class, whereas here they are for the upper class. Due to this, this Oakland mall was by far the biggest mall I’d ever been to in my life (I haven’t been to Mall of America). I had some serious culture shock just walking into it. After browsing for a while, we grabbed some crepes and called our taxi driver to come pick us up. Back at the hotel, we let the staff know we’d be waking up super early (it was a guesthouse, so the “staff” actually lived there). After getting cleaned up, we turned in for the night.
The next day (at the god awful hour of 4:30) we woke up to find that the owner of the guesthouse, a tiny cheery old man, had poured us some orange juice and left some crackers on a table in the common area. He was super cheerful, which either meant that he was a machine with endless energy, or he was just naturally chipper. Either way, it was a nice was to wake up with such a positive vibe. He and another staff member (his son?) then drove us to the bus terminal.
The bus ride out of Guatemala came and went without much hoopla, and we arrived at our hotel in San Salvador at around 10:30 – plenty of time to explore the city. We too had heard about the incredible malls that San Salvador had, so we decided to check that one out as well. The hotel staff informed us that we could walk down to a particular highway and catch a bus to a gigantic mall. What they didn’t tell us was that the busses (we were looking for 101 or 42) had variations of the numbers. So while I was looking for 101, I saw 101 A, B, C and D. Which one were we to catch? This confusion, and supposed proximity to the mall led to us walking there. We were a tad disenchanted with the walk (not close), but when we got there we saw that it was an outdoor mall with a similar setup to an outlet mall.
We grabbed a meal at Bennigans (restaurants like this are popular and “higher class” than they are in the U.S.), some gelato in the mall, and then went and saw the Time Traveler’s Wife (left a lot to be desired) in a gigantic theatre that had 6 people in it (including us). Following our movie, we wanted to go back to the amazing grocery store we’d gone to when we’d first passed through San Salvador, but we’d need to catch a cab – but there were none to be found. We found another police officer (they’ve tended to be good sources of information) and he called us a cab. During this whole process though, there was a man and his wife walking through the parking lot. Upon seeing us, he came over and asked where we were going. “To the supermarket by the Brazilian Embassy.” He then offered to drive us there, but since the taxi had arrived, we decided to respectfully decline. The taxi driver wasn’t too sure of where we were going though, and this mysteriously helpful man told him that the supermarket was near the Peace Corps office. Brie and I both looked at eachother, more attentive now than ever, was it possible that this guy worked for Peace Corps? It’s rare to find somebody who knows about Peace Corps, so this was just an interesting occurrence, but we’ll never know. At the supermarket, we grabbed what we so desired (for me 2 liters of German beer, an A&W rootbeer and a bottle of Plax), and headed back to our hotel room for the night.
The next day flew by and we rolled into Nicaragua 2 hours earlier than we thought we would (despite being held up at the Nicaraguan border for an hour). I was missing the feeling of being familiar with my surroundings, but this was quickly negated when the taxi driver ripped me off. During this, Brie went and grabbed some food for dinner while I waited with all our stuff at the bus terminal. Once back, we hopped on a micro and went to Malpaisillo – thus ending my vacation.
And what a vacation it was!
Before my vacation I was reading like crazy too, I read Oracle Bones while on the vacation. Without further ado:
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone – A. The first Harry Potter book did to me exactly what it has done to so many millions of people out there – it hooked me. However, the end fight scene was really lame. If the rest of the book wasn’t great, I’d complain.
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets – A. Once again, a book I just couldn’t put down. Again disappointed with the final battle.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban – A. I’ve got 20 pages left, but essentially I’ve finished it. The book really drew me in and just made me want to drink butter beer, a real beer, or just something tasty that would equally overwhelm my taste buds.
Oracle Bones – A+. This book is now my favourite book of all time. Peter Hessler, the author of River Town, has such a great writing style that I just never wanted the book to end. Usually when you’re reading any book, you want to find out what happens in the end, but this book is nonfiction and ends when he reaches the end of time (present day). He provides a great look into Chinese people and the culture. I will definitely be reading any book Hessler writes, I don’t care if he writes a dictionary – I’ll read it
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