Rocinante’s Repairs or Restoring the Timeline

Posted on December 27, 2012 by Henry

We seem to have gotten a little out of synch here. My description of Joe’s Mud Bath concerned events that actually preceded by a good week those described in Elizabeth’s comments on Christmas in Ciudád Guatemala. So in the interest of re-synching the divergent timelines, I’m going to do a quick recap.

After the mud-fest, we drove to Cobán for a couple days. We stayed one night in an old hostel that has been over the years converted in a rather upscale and very nice restaurant. Only three hostel rooms remain, and visitors share bathroom facilities with each other, the staff and the customers of the restaurant. The food was excellent, the ambiance of the restaurant delightful, the accommodations a little less so.

Next day, we moved to another hotel, housed in what we understand to be the oldest building in Cobán. Charming and very relaxing. While we were there, a local mechanic looked at Rocinante, as it needed some attention beyond my abilities. He said he could do the work, but it would take at least three days to get the parts from Guatemala City. So instead, we decided to head back to the capital before leaving the country.

But first, we had to visit Semuc Champey, the reason for our presence in Cobán in the first place. This is a natural wonderland, described here far better than I can manage. The closest Rocinante could bring us to it was Lanquín, about twelve kilometers away. We stayed at a nice, very clean little place in the middle of town, and early the next morning grabbed a bus to the pools, caves, bridge and whatnot. I’ll leave it to others (you know who you are) to describe the visit to the caves. I was not interested this time. But the pools, even I could appreciate. Joe reverted to his amphibious self, and had a great time with the bikini-clad world-travelers.

A day or two later, we were back on the road, heading into Guatemala City for repairs. The sister of one of Elizabeth’s friends has family there, and we had some names and phone numbers. Turned out to be exactly what we needed. A little while after Elizabeth made the introductory call, we got a call back from Juanito, Stephanie’s sister’s ex-brother-in-law. We arranged to meet at the hotel in the morning. And bright and early (for us), he and I went out in search of auto service.

Juan was amazing. He knows the city very well (a major accomplishment in itself, as far as I’m concerned), and can talk to anybody and everybody. We drove around town, Juan on his motorcycle, me following as best I could in Rocinante, and eventually found the right place to replace the A/C compressor (not really needed in the mountains of Guatemala, but essential as we proceed lower and more southerly). We left the van overnight, and Juan gave me a ride back to our hotel. My first time on a bike in about twenty years.

Two days later, after the work had been done—on time and for exactly the estimated price—we went out again, this time in search of a replacement rear window and tailgate supports. The former quest was successful, the latter not. But the van is now in very good shape, and we’re looking for a sturdy stick to prop the tailgate open.

Thanks, Juanito, we could not have done it without you. If anybody is traveling to Cíudad Guatemala, and needs someone to help deal with the city, let me know and I’ll give you his particulars.

We left Guatemala two days before Christmas, drove to Copán Ruinas, Honduras, where I type these words. This is a lovely town, walking distance from some of the most spectacular Mayan ruins we’ve seen, and so far the only place where we’ve been content to park the van on the street overnight, rather in a locked parqueo. We’ve seen some amazing things in the past few days, and now that the timeline is back in synch, I’ll leave it to others to describe them.

Posted in Family, Gear, Guatemala, Itinerary | 2 Comments

Further on down the road

Posted on December 26, 2012 by Henry

When we last left our heroes, they were coasting into Salamá, after a prolonged hot and dusty drive through the mountains. The next morning, we rose at our usual leisurely hour, and began an easy drive into Cobán, the stepping-off point for our visit to Semuc Champey. Along the road, our guide book told us to expect the Chicoy Caves, complete with “towering stalagmites”, and the site of present-day Mayan religious rituals. And sure enough, there at kilometer-marker 169 was a small sign for Mayan Caves.

A short drive down a dirt road brought us to a spot near a mountain stream, where it looked like we ought to park. Up the hill, next to what seemed to be a gate, was a sign announcing an entrance fee of Q10.00. Up we went, met there by a young man who collected our fees, and continued through the gate and up the switch-backed slope.

As we crested the hill, we saw that the other side led into a large, wide but shallow cave. When got a little closer, and our eyes adjusted a bit, we could see a number of candles burning on its floor and back wall. Apart from those lights, the whole thing was pretty dim. We pressed on through more switch-backs, these leading down into the gloom.

IMG_0838The slope into the cave was steep and tricky. There were few rickety railings in places, but not nearly sufficient by US standards. Still, the locals obviously used this path, so we could too. The ground got wetter, muddier and slipperier. We pressed on. We reached an area with a somewhat level floor, but going was still slow due to the water and mud.  Water dripped from the high ceiling, and formed little pools on the floor. We found some small deposited-limestone formations, and were encouraged to find the bigger ones promised by the book. Overall, it was rather pretty.

IMG_0835By now we could see more candles, plus the remains of many more, plus other items of religious importance, plus the detritus of many visits. Clearly, this cave saw heavy use. Joe was scouting up ahead, and just about the time Elizabeth called out to tell him to stay within sight, he gave out a yell, and called for help, with a note of panic in his voice. We ran as fast as we could on the slick, mucky surface in the direction of his voice, and found him up past his ankles in thick, dark, very sticky mud. He could not get out.

A full description of the words and actions needed to extract Joe from the mud would read like something in between an adventure/horror movie and a slapstick comedy. But after about fifteen tension-filled minutes, we were trekking out of the cave. Joe was completely covered in mud. Most of it was concentrated below his waist, but the rest of him had its share as well. Elizabeth was covered only up to her knees, with odd splotches on the rest of her. I got out the lightest (somebody had to be certain not to get stuck), with only my shoes covered, and a few other minor contact points. Miraculously, we had not lost a single article of clothing.

IMG_0839 IMG_0842The stream by which we had parked turned out to be absolutely wonderful. Only a few inches deep in most places, it was cool but not cold, flowing quickly enough to carry away mud, but so much as to wash away stray clothing. We spent a half-hour cleaning our selves and clothes, and another forty-five minutes drying in the warm mountain air and sun. Then we gathered everything up, climbed back into the van, and drove very quietly to Cobán.

Posted in Culture, Family, Guatemala, Mayan, Nature, photos, Religion | 8 Comments

Christmas in Guatemala II

Posted on December 25, 2012 by Elizabeth

We spent most of last week hanging out in Guatemala City while Rocinante was being repaired. Our hotel, the rambling and comfortable Hotel Spring, was in the historic district, near the central square, the police headquarters, and the famous 6 Avenida (“Sexta”), for many years the shopping street on which to see and be seen. They’re trying to bring it back as a pedestrian area, and at least during the holiday season, it’s a success. Every time we went over there, day or night, the street was full of families strolling up and down, with vendors and street performers and artists on every corner. We saw clowns, jugglers, dancers, jazz musicians, marimba players, Darth Vader, Spiderman, a sparkling gold miner, a silver luchador, a guy making landscape paintings with spray paint, and a guy dressed like a tree balancing a little ball on his arm.

And one night, we saw another Christmas procession.

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This one had ladies in white lace veils:

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A rolling marimba:

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Mayan dancers, who never stood still:

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A blessing in front of La Iglesia de San Francisco, accompanied by firecrackers:

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Lots of incense:

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And a generator to light it all up:

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Feliz navidad, y’all!

Posted in Guatemala, Religion | 5 Comments

Rocinante Redux

Posted on December 21, 2012 by Henry

Our van has been a stalwart, faithful conveyance. For the most part. It’s taken us along highways, byways and barely-there-ways. It does have its share of quirks and idiosyncrasies: early on, the driver’s window stopped working and needed to be closed by hand, then it worked again, then it didn’t, now it does; the hydraulic lifters that keep the upper tail-gate open have ceased to function, and we now have to hold the gate open by hand, or let it drop on our heads; the brakes squeak mercilessly when used lightly at low speeds; on a long downhill stretch into Panajachel, they got progressively mushier, and eventually all but failed, only to come back a few minutes later and have worked fine ever since; and so on.

But the engine, transmission, steering and such have been rock solid (knocking on wood, here) and performed admirably. Last week, we left Quetzaltenango (a/k/a Xela) heading in the general direction of Semuc Champey, enjoying the weather and the scenery. The nice, smooth two-lane blacktop wound its way into the mountains, and gradually became less smooth, and less nice, and rather narrower. Eventually, it turned into a road of dirt and rocks and holes and lumps, barely more than a single lane wide. My navigator assured me that Google Maps showed this route as a major road. The terrain beneath the tires did not agree, and continued in this dissent for many miles. It was sufficiently rough that the speedometer stayed mostly in the 10-15 MPH range.

Quetzaltenango to Salama

But Rocinante kept right on chugging along. Stuck in first gear for long stretches, it handled the rough terrain with aplomb. Its ground clearance is nothing special, and its suspension is more suited to North American freeways than to Centro American mountains, but with a little care in the rough patches, we avoided scraping bottom. Mostly.

We progressed eastward, with an eye toward Pachalum, where we would change to what certainly must be a major road, the CA5, the main road leading north out of Guatemala City. And sure enough, just before Pachalum, the road got better, wider and eventually paved. And once out of the town, on the CA5, it got narrower, and worse, and completely unpaved once more. But the van motored onward.

Until it didn’t. Going up and up a rather long, bouncy, dusty stretch, the engine suddenly stalled. And as in most modern American-made automobiles, the power steering and power brakes went with it. I could still brake and steer, but it suddenly required lot more effort. Rather stimulating. And there was nothing for it but to stop, shift into Park, restart the engine, throw it back into first, and continue. A few minutes later, it stalled again. Rinse and repeat.

We were at a loss to explain this sudden behavior. In Mérida, the van’s seller had mentioned something about the electric fuel pump overheating and shutting down until it had cooled again, but he’d also told us that the way to avoid this was to keep the gas tank full, advice we had been following faithfully. And the problem did seem like an intermittent fuel-pump failure, but the water temperature was reasonable, and I hadn’t been pushing the engine very hard at all. Still it kept stalling. So, after many stalls and restarts, we finally parked for a few minutes in the shade and let everything cool down. And eventually, we crested the long hill we’d been climbing, and cruised gently into Rabinal. From there, the road into Salamá was paved and smooth, with many downhill stretches.

We spent the night in Salamá, at a small hotel that kept a large cage in its courtyard, containing several squirrels, and a very grumpy paca, who growled at us. The next morning, we continued into Cobán, and the engine didn’t stall again. Nor has it since.

Posted in Gear, Guatemala, Preparation | 4 Comments

Christmas in Guatemala

Posted on December 20, 2012 by Elizabeth

I was loitering in the streets of Antigua with our housemate and fellow student, Frances, waiting for our pedicure appointments, when a funeral came into view. Children scattered flower petals in the street; the mourners followed, dressed all in somber black, marching slowly down the middle of the street to the ponderous beat of a bass drum. The giant flower-decked bier came next, carried by at least twenty people, marching and swaying together from side to side. Wait, twenty people? Then we realized that atop the bier was a huge statue of Jesus in a purple robe, carrying an even huger cross.

Was it a celebration, a mourning, a memorial? People on the sidewalks either stood and watched the procession go by with varying degrees of fascination, or they completely ignored it and carried on with their daily business. Sadly, neither Frances nor I had a camera or even a phone, so we had no pictures. And the pedicures weren’t all that great either.

A few days later, we wandered into the Cathedral of San José in Antigua’s Parque Central. It happened to be Sunday, so the interior was full of locals in addition to the usual crowds of tourists. The sanctuary was clearly dressed up for the holidays. Isn’t it lovely?

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And, lo! There were several biers of the sort we had seen in the procession–clearly they were floats of a sort, with statues of saints. I think these two are San José (as this is his cathedral) and perhaps The Archangel Michael (because of the dragon). Perhaps my Catholic-educated friends can identify him, and explain the book and quill pen.

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A group of men were preparing the floats; we watched while they carefully hoisted the figure of Mary onto the float, and then spent nearly an hour securing her and tucking and pinning her velvet, star-spangled robe to shine to best advantage.

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We had sat down on a pew to watch the preparations, and before we realized it, a mass had begun in the sanctuary. I have not attended many masses, and this one was interesting. In addition to the priest, two different women gave readings; one a section of the Christian Bible in Spanish, and the other in a Mayan dialect (I think Quiché, but I’m not sure). Is that usual? I don’t know. We sat and listened long enough to figure out that it was the first Sunday of Advent, and therefore a day of celebration–hence the floats.

Eventually we gave up waiting for the procession to start; Frances headed home to do some Spanish homework, Henry and Joe went off to find wi-fi, and I went shopping for a special 16th birthday present for a special niece.

I was crossing back through the main square several hours later when I heard firecrackers. This in itself is not unusual–we’ve heard firecrackers at all hours, day and night, ever since we crossed the border into Guatemala. They are hugely popular here; I don’t know if it’s the season, or all year round. But this time, I also smelled frankincense. Then I saw the crowds. I rushed over and saw, not a small, funereal procession, but a grand pageant.

There were ladies in traditional Mayan dress, and ladies in Western dress. There were gentlemen in black suits, and gentlemen in Mayan outfits. There were men in white robes carrying censers, and men in white robes carrying colored lanterns, and men in white robes carrying banners. There were drums in the front, and a marching band in black suits in the back. The whole parade was preceded by firecrackers–a big cannon boom and a whole mess of crackling sparklers. And at the center of it all were the floats we had seen in the cathedral that morning, carried by droves of men and women marching and swaying so that the figures on top moved and swayed as well.

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Posted in Culture, Guatemala, Religion, Time | 5 Comments

Shiny

Posted on December 20, 2012 by Elizabeth

Thinking of having dental work done?

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Posted in Guatemala, Health | 3 Comments

Volcán Pacaya

Posted on December 14, 2012 by Elizabeth

While still in Antigua, we celebrated the end of our first week of school by getting up at 5:00 a.m to climb a volcano. It was the third time in the past month that we found ourselves up, dressed, and ready to go long before sunrise. We had signed up for a tour package in one of the bazillion tour agencies in Antigua, and promptly at 6:00, a van driver knocked on the door and we were off. Well, off to three different hotels, picking up other participants, and then off to a coffee shop for a light breakfast. Then we were off, to Volcán Pacaya.

The van drove up and up, first on nice smooth tarmac, and then on rough dirt roads, and then on spine-jolting roads comprised entirely of ruts. At last, we came to a halt and were disgorged at the entrance to the trail. We were introduced to our guide, whose name I promptly forgot, because it was still only about 7:00 a.m., and because we immediately set off at a sprint on a nearly vertical path.

Within about ten yards, I was gasping for air. The entrance to the park, in the village of San Francisco de Sales, is located at 1852 meters of altitude. Clearly, adjustment was taking a bit of time. And although the other members of our group did not appear to be Ironman triathletes or Channel swimmers, they did all have the advantage of, shall we say, fewer years on the planet buckling under the weight of gravity. It was one of those times when I am solidly within the category of “Middle Aged Lady.” I tried to put up a brave front, but I had to take a rest every five minutes or so, in order to prevent my lungs from bursting out of my chest.

Periodically, but not often enough, the guide stopped to explain something to us in an utterly incomprehensible combination of pidgin English and sign language of the medieval dumbshow type. When asked to speak plain Spanish, he would repeat his lecture word for word and gesture for gesture, using Spanish words. One of his stories involved the word for cow in both languages, two fingers jumping around, and a slashing motion against his leg punctuated with exclamations of “Broke! Broke!” We took this to mean that he had broken his leg in an accident that somehow involved either riding a cow or Minoan bull-leaping. He would then check on my status (“Okay, Madam?”) and resume the hike at the same brisk pace.

But, oh, the view!

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Pacaya is one of 28 volcanoes in Guatemala, about eight of which are active. Pacaya is one of the more active of the active volcanoes; it last erupted only two years ago. Tours here are very popular, and lots of pictures show rivers of lava and spewing ash.

The tour literature says to wear thick-soled shoes, so they won’t melt, and long pants. Here, therefore, is what we were expecting:

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And here is the volcanic activity we actually experienced:

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Nevertheless, it was very beautiful.

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And, exotic as it was, the volcano still reminded me of home:

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We arrived back in Antigua by noon, just in time for lunch and a very long nap.

Posted in Family, Guatemala, Nature | 7 Comments

One of those moments

Posted on December 12, 2012 by Henry

In December 1972 I took a train trip from Windsor to Montreal. A couple friends were just finishing up their first semester at McGill University, and the whole gang was descending upon them for an end-of-the-year party. The train trip took all night, slowed down by the heavy snow.

Around 10:00, the train made a stop somewhere in Ontario: London, Kitchener, one of those medium-sized cities. While it was in the station, I went outside between cars and looked around. The city was lit with street lights and house lights, and fat flakes of snow were slowly filtering down. I looked around the peaceful town and was struck, for the first time in my eighteen years, by how large the world was. Here was a city filled with people, all living their own lives, living and dying, getting born and growing up and growing old, falling in love, getting married, having kids, getting divorced, everything—and I would never know any of them, never have the least inkling of any of their lives, never have contact with them of any kind. It was a sobering thought.

I’ve had that same thought, and variations of it, a number of times over the intervening years. It’s never quite so striking as the first time, but it increases in depth each time. I had it again today, walking with Elizabeth and Joe through Totonicapán, a small town in the Guatemalan highlands. It was market day, and the streets were packed with booths and people selling fruits, vegetables, the odd chicken, beautiful hand-woven textiles, shoes, cell-phone accessories, t-shirts, belts, shawls, pirated CDs and DVDs, nuts, dried fruits, spices, handmade jewelry, handmade pottery, hats and scarves, and about a bazillion other things.

And this time, the feeling wasn’t only of having no personal knowledge of the people around me. There was also the realization that I have no idea what life is like here. And never will. I know what it looks like from my perspective, but that certainly must be a far cry from what it is to live it. Though I know that all the people around me have all the same basic desires, emotions, aspirations, fears and so on, the particulars of their lives will forever be much farther from me than those of the residents of the states, of Ontario, or of just about any other place I’ve ever been.

Posted in Culture, Family | 5 Comments

Getting around in Antigua

Posted on December 8, 2012 by Henry

And now for something completely different. Personal transport in Antigua is interesting, and pretty cool. A few people have cars, but not many. The streets are all paved with black volcanic rock, and are none too smooth (think of cobblestone), making vehicular progress very slow. Most people walk. A few ride bicycles.

For any significant distance, most local people ride the bus. And what buses they ride. While the tourist buses are like those in every other place, plain and boring, the local buses (called “chicken buses” in the states) are almost without exception decked out with wild colors and designs. Chrome is ubiquitous, as are many mirrors, ornaments and attachments. Every bus has a name, written in Mylar script across the top of its windshield and on its rear. Many sport lights of different colors, in various places around the body, some flashing multiple colors. The roof is invariably covered with a luggage rack, often in chrome, with one or more ladders up the sides and back to reach it.

All the major brands are represented. I saw Ford, GMC, International Harvester, and so on. But what really surprised me was that I saw at least four buses manufactured by Harley Davidson. Who knew?

But I haven’t seen any Harley bikes, unlike in Mexico. In fact, while motorcycles abound, very few have engines larger than 150 cc’s. But there is a huge variety of these smaller bikes. The standard marks are represented: Honda, Suzuki, Yamaha and so on, although very few of the models I’ve seen here are available in the states. There are also many brands you don’t see at all in the states, mostly Chinese, like Jialing, Yumbo, Mountain Lion King, Pulsar to name but a few.

Small though they are, these are full-duty motorcycles. People ride them both to work and for work. And all other purposes. They ride singly, with a rider and passenger or two, even with whole families. Helmets are rare, appearing mostly on those riding larger bikes.

And these are just the motorcycles. There are also many varieties of motor scooter, some weird fat-tired motorbikes, and a few quadra-cycles cruising around town.

But the mode of transport most outlandish to these USian eyes is the tuctuc (rhymes with juke-juke). Essentially a moto-rickshaw, a tuctuc has a small four-stroke engine, three fat wheels no more than 12-inches in diameter, a four-speed transmission (hitting fourth only on the smooth roads out of town), a roomy driver’s compartment up front, and space for up to three passengers in back. Maybe four, if you’re small and/or willing to be very cramped. The “body” is composed of canvas or fiberglass over a framework of metal rods and tubes. For ten quetzales (about USD 1.30, and 15 on weekends), a tuctuc will take you and yours anywhere in town.

Most tuctuc drivers are aggressive but reasonably sane. But there were a few rides (and recall the fun-filled road surfaces) which left me certain that Hell was missing a bat or two.

Posted in Culture, Gear, photos | 5 Comments

Antigua

Posted on December 7, 2012 by Elizabeth

Antigua is to Guatemala as Austin is to Texas. It’s charming, you can get a cappuccino with soy milk, and it’s chock full of non-natives. All the language schools here (and there are many) operate on the no curriculum/individualized lesson system, which means that each student is assigned his or her own teacher. Sometimes this works out well, and sometimes not so much. Oftentimes, the lesson takes the form of a little sightseeing excursion, so student/teacher (aka gringo/local) pairs can be seen everywhere, strolling through the cobblestone streets.

One day, we went with our teachers to Valhalla, an organic macadamia nut plantation. We went by bus–one of the famous Guatemalan chicken busses, which are old US school busses lovingly painted and decorated and used for travel throughout the country–up the mountain to a lovely rural area. The plantation itself was full of mature, shady macadamia trees, and nuts lay all about the ground, not far from signs that said “Please do not take any nuts from the ground.” Darn. There were plenty of nuts in the gift shop, though, as well as oils and soaps and lots of information about the benefits of macadamia nuts for inner and outer health.

We saw how the nuts are sorted and processed, and enjoyed a snack in the garden and a visit to the extremely attractive baño therein.

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In Antigua itself, there are many upscale shops and activities. One such place is the Chocolate Museum which has a quite good display about the history and processing of chocolate, and also sells many types of chocolate and chocolate scented keychains and cacao shampoo and earrings shaped like cacao pods and so on. In addition, they offer chocolate workshops; here is a typical participant, who made a bar of cardamom/chili/ginger chocolate that was very good.

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Posted in Food, Guatemala, Itinerary | 3 Comments