Guatemala City and Antigua

Post date: Jun 22, 2010 4:44:27 PM

After some annoyances at Hotel Aeropuerto, my hostel, I was happy when they said that they had no rooms available Saturday night. I located a hostel near my bike shop that offered one night free to couchsurfers, and I was planning on going there when William, a couchsurfer in Guatemala City, offered to show me the town and take me to the hostel. He must have felt less threatened once we met in person, however, because he then offered to let me stay with him and his family. I was his first surfer, and he, my first host. We got along well from the beginning.

His brother dropped us off downtown in Guatemala City, which, like most other Latin American cities, retains much of its original colonial buildings and squares. We cruised some of the market, and tasted what may be my favorite new fruit, “Liche,” which is locally called “Gringo Balls.” It tastes like a sweet grape without any of the sour. I then got some soup/broth with meat and vegetables on the outside. I asked William why they don’t just chop up the meat and vegetables and put them in the soup, and he said some people like to eat them separately with salt.

The busses are privately owned and operated, and the driver and passenger recruiter work their butts off filling the seats. At the stops, the recruiter hops off, often while the bus is still moving, and starts shouting out the destination. Guatemala, called “Guate” locally, sounds like “What?” So, the recruiter paces the bus like a man with Tourette’s shouting “What? What? What?”

On just such a bus, off we went to Antigua for the afternoon, and it wasn’t until we got to exploring the astounding resorts there that I learned why. It was a 1.5 hr ride with some stinky passengers on a bus that felt like it would crack with every bump it hit. Public transportation is dirt cheap here- this ride took maybe $1. The hotels are 5 star quality and strategically draped with flowered vines and decorated with pruned gardens, elegant fountains, and smiling, well-groomed and dressed staff. Your immediate thought is, “I want my honeymoon here.” The cobblestone streets are quiet, exhaust-free (a relief from Guatemala City), and lined with high-end textile and handicraft shops. It is clear that these shop owners are more financially secure and accustomed to dealing with wealthier travelers. We met William’s friend at one of the hotels. Apparently her daddy is loaded. I joked about crashing the wedding so I could get in with the family and the daughter. The reception area was white-linen and silver everywhere. The entire ceiling was covered in giant, billowy white sheets that reminded me of an Arabian palace.

Then we met William’s friend, Jose, who said he was having a small going-away party for his Austrian friend. We met up with those folks, but then let them for an hour to go meet up with other couchsurfers at a nearby bar. One of those guys was the most shameless, perverted man I think I’ve ever met. I’m surprised the women didn’t slap him. It was entertaining. William and I returned to Jose and posse, and I ended up dancing the whole time with this girl, Merl, whose name it took me a solid five minutes to pronounce correctly. She seemed to appreciate my effort! I can’t imagine why anyone would dance with me though since I’m pathetically uncoordinated in couple’s dancing. They all wished me happy birthday. The band we danced to, “La Gran Calabaza” (The Great Pumpkin) was an awesome, awesome band. They clearly have performed together for some time; they masterfully raised and lowered the tempos, inserted improvisational riffs, and just really cut loose.

I got a couple hours sleep before I was off in the van to Mount Pacaya, the volcano that just erupted and made world headlines. There was no chance to sleep here; it was far too bumpy and we were either whizzing around a left or a right turn up the mountain. The cold air from the window kept the vomit down. There were six others in the van. One of the tourists was this well-travelled, young Danish guy who told me about how he and his female friend were kidnapped and held hostage for two hours by five knife-wielding thugs in Managua, Nicaragua. That was three weeks ago. They had met a nice, pregnant girl on a bus, and she offered to join them in a taxi to their next destination, since they were going the same way. They said they would never have suspected this girl would wave down the taxi that would end up picking up each of the thugs and take them to a remote area to threaten to cut them. It was a terrifying experience, he said. They went to over 8 ATMs, withdrawing cash from their accounts, and nearly attacked them when one of the cards didn’t work. The thugs left the two on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, then tossed their passports and cards out the window as they drove off. The guy and his girl went to the nearest house they could find, got a taxi to the airport, and got away. He said other than that, Nicaragua was a fantastic place!

Smoke rose from black rubble on the mountain. Strangely, the top seemed intact, although it was shrouded in thick, quickly moving clouds. It is unclear whether that was steam from the volcano or just clouds passing over the top. I think it was steam. The lava rock rubble stood fifteen feet tall and wasn’t solid rock, but loose, piled rocks, for the most part. Some of them were very warm, especially the ones near the smoking piles. This volcano had erupted from is sides. The other side of the mountain, the side that faced Guatemala City, was even more busted out, but it was also further away and more dangerous. So, we hiked up this mountain for an hour or so and finally found a spot where we could peer between some rocks to see glowing red rock. The piles of rock there were hot, and I kept checking my borrowed shoes for melting. (I hadn’t planned on sleeping in Antigua, so Jose loaned me his shoes and socks! He actually had a pair to fit me.) I guess his rent is only about 100-200 dollars/month, in Antigua. Food for thought. I guess many Americans move there during retirement.

So, the lava wasn’t fluid, just red hot. It was still rad. Would have been fun to pee on it.

No good comes without cost, and as much as I like Pacaya, Pacaya also liked my camera. If someone found it, they haven’t reported it to my tour agency. After all I’ve overcame, it was such a disaster to lose that camera that I was virtually unphased. I’ll replace it, maybe, if I stumble across something cheap and reliable looking.

So, I saw a volcano and danced the night away for my 31^st birthday. But, I also sinned. I broke my 4 year sobriety from coffee when I had a small cup with Jose and William in Antigua, and later that night William brought me some homemade hot chocolate. The coffee was nothing special, but that chocolate was unlike anything I’d had before. It was just milk, cocoa beans, sugar, and water, but it sure tasted like there was something else in it. William insisted there was not. It was to die for. I had two mugs. Ah well, it was my birthday!

As for changes in me (since birthdays are a time to reflect, I suppose), I have never felt so ready to settle down with a pig, a cow, a farm, a wife, a couple kids, and a great catfishing hole minutes from my self-made cabin. It is has not been made clear to me yet what direction I will take in terms of career, but I feel like this is less crucial of a choice than before. I think that I would be satisfied with one month of travel per year, so a job that accommodates that would be ideal. I also intend to be a more generous person when I return to settled living; I would like to have guests and my home would be open to anyone friendly and in need. It feels right now that this trip will purge me of a great portion of my wanderlust. I long to return to the things I know and love- the people, the land, the food, the weather. Few things satisfy me like a night on the river or reservoir with my brother, catching fat catfish against all odds.

But first. First, the Amazon and the farms of Brazil. And then to meet friends in southern Brazil. Then to complete this journey in Ushuaia, Argentina. And who knows what may happen between now and then? It is a balancing act between homesickness / love of the past and faith in the good to come.