Cuevas y Lagunas II

So I lied....I didn't write the second installment yesterday. Sorry for the wait, those of you who were waiting with baited breath. Where was I? Ah, yes, I left off at the half-constructed hotel near Chisec. It really was a lovely place and should do well if they can get the tourists to fill it. Not sure how many get up that far away from Coban...we were the only tourists in the area as far I know.

The next morning we met the guide to the Bombil Pek and Jul Ik caves at 8 am. Bright and early. But since we had literally gone to bed around 8 pm the night before we were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. While the guide took us down the path to the caves (which took us a good 45 minutes to hike) he explained a bit about the community project that runs the ecotourism attractions in the area. These caves, for example, became part of the project because of two Peace Corps volunteers that were stationed in the community. They saw the value of the caves as a tourist attraction after visiting them with some locals and started the push to make them part of a community-wide effort to take advantage of the natural attractions in the area. The caves are very impressive. Bombil Pek, which means painted rock in Q'eqchi', is home to the only cave paintings found in Guatemala. The cave is truly impressive. To get to the mouth you have to pass down into a pit 60 meters deep. I've included a photo of the ladders the community set in place to help visitors get to the entrance of the cave itself. Seriously, I had to hold my breath a few times on these ladders, wondering if it would really hold my weight. Our guide told us that before these ladders were put in place the locals would climb down into the cave using the roots of the plants that grow on the edge of the pit. The actual entrance to the cave is incredible. I was able to take the photo to the left with natural light (no flash) because of the little bit of sun that comes in from above. But I decided not to take my camera inside after the guide warned us that we would be crawling through some small holes to get to the paintings. We would have to pass through two agujeros, he said, which is the Spanish word for buttonhole. The inside of the cave was reminiscent of the caves I used to play in back at Sewanee. Some really impressive stalagtites and stalagmites. And the small holes we had to crawl through also brought back some memories. You have to get on your side to pass through, with one arm ahead of you and the other at your side. Once you get your head and shoulders through you can then get your second arm through and then the fun wiggling and squeezing and pushing to get your butt and legs through. The guide and my friend were cracking up at my difficulties getting through the second hole. It was a little easier for them, considering that I am probably at least a foot taller than the guide and maybe ten inches taller than my friend. The extra inches made it difficult to get a foothold to push myself through the holes. The guide thought it was hilarious...me with me front end stuck in the hole and my feet flailing around looking for some sort of leverage. Well, ok, I thought it was pretty funny, too. I have to admit the paintings were a bit anticlimactic, but the journey to get there was well worth the trip. The paintings are of two monkey and a tiger, but they've been worn away some-what by unauthorized visitors.

After Bombil Pek cave we trekked down to Jul Ik cave, the cave of air. It is called the "cave of air" or "cave of wind" because of the vapor that appears above the mouth of the cave during the hotter part of the day. It makes it look like the cave is breathing. To enter this cave you have to descend down into a smaller pit (without the dubious help of home-made ladders [not that I would have wanted to get down to Bombil Pek without them]). This cave had much higher ceilings that Bombil Pek and we had an easier time getting around inside. There are certain spaces in this cave where local indigenous people still hold religious ceremonies.
The most exciting thing about this cave was the stalagtites. Not only are they immensely beautiful, but when you knock on the sides they ring like a bell. Each stalagtite has a small hollow space inside were the water passes through to the tip. I'm including a video I took of us playing with the stalagtites...I think it sounds like we're playing around with a marimba.

When we finally emerged from the caves and dragged ourselves back to the trail head we were hot, tired and ridiculously dirty (but quite content). After a quick lunch of jam sandwiches and a swift dip in the river to wash ourselves off we hopped in the car and high-tailed it to Lanquin just in time to grab the last cabin and a delicious meal at a lovely hostel on the river. More on this in the next installment....

Cuevas y Lagunas

Last weekend I took the most fantastic trip up north. If you take a look at a map of Guatemala, you'll see that there is a big chunk sticking up towards Mexico and next to Belize. Most of that big chunk is the department of Peten. Just under that is, among other things, the department of Alta Verapaz, where we spent the weekend. It's a beautiful, mountainous, mostly rural area which has the distinction of being home to beautiful limestone caves and deep turquoise lagoons. A friend of mine from Guatemala City was planning on a quick jaunt to see some of these caves and lagoons and asked me if I wanted to join her. We set off early Saturday morning from Guatemala City in her little sedan (which we later realized was not the most ideal mode of transportation on the back roads in need of some serious pothole management) and made it back late Monday night, just in time to catch some zzz's before heading off to work (my friend to her job as a psychiatrist and me to my work at the National Library archives).

We headed up to Coban, the largest city in Alta Verapaz, and from there to a small town called Chisec. Just north of Chisec are a group of natural/ecological tourist areas run by a community organization funded by, among other organizations, USAID. The intention of this project, from what I understand, is to give the community a good reason to preserve the natural wonders of their area while also being able to make some money off of it and to get a little further away from subsistence living. Our first stop was the entrance to the Bombil Pek cave. Unfortunately, there was no one manning the area. There was, hoever, a handwritten phone number above the door to the cabin, and we called. Apparently all the local community guides had been at a party celebrating the end of the planting and were too tired to work that day. So we headed to the Laguna Sepalau which, thankfully, was manned by a friendly gentleman. The photo to the left is a shot of the lagoon, a beautiful and extremely deep lagoon hidden down a long, winding, and dangerously bumpy gravel/dirt road. I will admit there were a few spots where we thought we might get stranded and never make it out. It was worth the trip, though. We took a kayak ride around the lagoon, a lovely way, I must admit, to spend an afternoon.

After saying farewell to our cheerful guide, we made our way to the Candelaria Caves, about a half-hour drive from the lagoon. Once again, however, our bad luck with local guides reared its head. A few women and young girls were manning the small store adjacent to the tourist cabin. Unfortunately, none of the women spoke much Spanish (and we did not speak the local Maya language, Q'eqchi'). We thought about staying at the campsite or in the cabin they had at the tourist area, but truly we were a little sketched-out by the place. Didn't really want the whole neighborhood to know a couple of folks from the capital are sleeping in a tent by the side of the road. So we called the number from the cabin at Bombil Pek, set up a meeting for the next morning and then looked for a hotel. We drove back towards Chisec, and pulled in to a place that looked like it might be a hotel. Turns out it was a hotel in construction, and the owner kindly let us stay for no charge, since the rooms weren't completely done. We helped him move some mattresses into a room and spent a lovely, relaxing (and much safer) night in the half-constructed hotel. It's going to be a nice place once it's done.

It's getting late and I've got to be heading back to the house. But I'll fill in the rest of the trip tomorrow. Next up, the trek to Bombil Pek and a journey through Sempuc Champey.

¡Guate! ¡Guate! ¡Llega, llega, llega!

Hello once again, dear readers. On this episode we will be catching a few quick glimpses the life of a foreign graduate student in Guatemala. For the past two weeks or so I've been following a routine (more or less) that I described in the previous post, that of taking the bus to the city, siting on my bum reading newspaper articles about murder, corruption, assault, embezzlement and fraud, taking the bus back to Jocotenango and on occasion (ok, more often than I probably should) having a few beers with my friends before heading off to bed to get ready to do the same thing the next day. I say that this is more or less a routine because I will admit that I don't actually make it to the capital every single day. Sometimes I get distracted. Anyway, in this post I want to throw out some random experiences I've had in the last few weeks, taken from my mostly mundane day-to-day life here.

First of all, for those of you who don't know, I got a strep throat infection two weeks ago. Not only that, but I had an allergic reaction to the infection (yes, that is possible, apparently). Imagine my surprise when, after three days of a ridiculously sore throat and a fever which I basically pretended not to notice in hopes it would go away, I woke up on a Sunday morning covered head to toe in a splotchy red rash. Thank goodness for my housemate, who knew exactly how to get a doctor's appointment quickly. Like any good child of the age of technology and the internet, I immediately looked up my symptoms online. I had overheard a conversation the previous day between a few foreigners about how one of them had contracted scabies in her hostel, and was worried that maybe that is what had caused the rash. Scabies are tiny little mights that burrow under your skin and cause a rash that itches to the point that after a certain amount of time anyone infected can't sleep because of the itching. Thank goodness, however, my rash did not fit the symptoms of scabies, and I crossed that off my list. The only things I could find online were rashes that once in a while show up with strep throat (which also fit with the sore throat I'd been suffering before) and scarlet fever. Luckily for me it didn't turn out to be scarlet fever and five days of antibiotics and antihistamines did away with the problem.

Downer number two of the last few weeks is that sometime on Friday afternoon (this past Friday, that is), someone entered our apartment and absconded with all the cash in the house. Which, unfortunately for me happened to be my cash. I realized on Friday night after coming home that the Q600 I had stashed with my toothbrush and other toiletries was missing and that, upon further inspection, my emergency stash of US$ was also gone. Nothing else was missing, thank goodness...my passport, ipod and computer were all as I left them. But my cash...all my cash except for a few smaller bills from Brazil and Argentina....was gone. I will say this has put a little bit of a crimp in my style, so to speak. It's a creepy feeling knowing someone has picked through your stuff in your own house while you were gone. Serious bummer.

On the up side, I've been able to get a lot done at the National Library here, and have made a few more contacts with folks that work in the news, both print and radio. And I've seen a lot of interesting things just sitting on the bus or strolling around in the historic district. The other day I was sitting in the Central Park in Zone 1, near the library, waiting for a friend. Seemingly out of nowhere (although I know he must have come from somewhere), a well dressed gentlemen of indeterminate age (probably in his 60s?) sits down next to me (after, of course, placing a handkerchief on the wall I was sitting on so he didn't get his trousers dirty) and asks in relatively good English, "Do you speak English?" Wary but intrigued I told him I did. He then begins to explain to me how he is an English teacher here in Guatemala City and that whenever he meets a native English speaker he tries to ask them certain questions he has about the language. Even more intrigued, I agree to answer some questions, and he pulls out two pieces of paper folded up like origami on which he has written (back and front) a slew of English phrases he has doubts about. For some he wants to know what they mean, for others how to pronounce it. Most are either phrases from an English translation of the Bible or from old songs or movies. Things like "left holding the bag," "drop me a line," or the difference between forbid, forbids and forbade. I must say it was one of the strangest conversations I've had here so far, especially when, after he was done asking me questions, he asked me out for dinner. The men here never really stop thinking about how to get a woman to go out with them, even if they are at least 30 years older than said woman and a complete stranger. A friend of mine explained that if you give a Guatemalan man five minutes of conversation then he automatically thinks he has a chance. Oddly enough I got another proposal for dinner only ten minutes later, after another man who saw me talking to the first guy sidled over an struck up a brief conversation with me about some other foreigners he just met who were riding their bicycles from Canada to Argentina. I think maybe I shouldn't be so friendly when sitting in the park in Guatemala City.

Finally, some things I want to get off my chest, so to speak, in terms of living in Guatemala. I really enjoy it here, especially because of the wonderful people I've met here. But here are some of my pet peeves which, forever after, will go unsaid.

1. potholes in the sidewalks
2. sidewalks wide enough to allow only one person to walk at a time (anyone coming the other way has to walk in the road)
3. black smoke coming out of the back of buses as you're walking down the street
4. ubiquitous smell of stale piss every 50 ft or so on the street due to most mens' use of walls as public urinals
5. crowding on buses that make it almost impossible to get off in the right place (although this is helpful when on extra-urban buses that are taking curves too fast, since you have less chance of sliding around when you're wedged in like sardines)
6. the lurking mental reminder that yes, actually, it is somewhat dangerous to walk around/ride the bus in the capital (although I have neither been party to nor witnessed anything yet...knock wood)
7. being taller than everyone else (while this isn't really that big of a deal [haha] it is sometimes weird when someone walking in front of me turns around, wide-eyed, to see what kind of hulking behemouth is casting a shadow over them)

Ok, that's it then, I'm done. I'm heading off to do a tiny bit of site-seeing this weekend with some friends, so there should be some interesting stories and pictures of the next installment. Until then, take care....

P.S. The title of this post is what the ayudantes call out to let you know where a bus is going. If you can't figure this one out, they're basically saying, "get your butt over here and get on the bus to Guatemala City!"

Kite Festival

Oh, good, you’re still here. That is, you came back. Ok, anyway, that is to say that I’m glad that someone is still reading this, despite my appalling lack of consistency in when I write.

Since I last wrote I’ve set up my base of operations in Jocotenango, a town just at the edge of Antigua, which is about 45 minutes from the capital. I posted about Antigua earlier, back in March I think. Some friends have a house here in Jocotengano, and I’m renting a room from them. Not only is it cheaper than a hotel, but a lot more fun. It’s definitely nice to have people to talk to or have dinner with after a long day riding buses into the city and sitting all afternoon at the library. And that’s basically been the routine the last week or two….get up relatively early, catch a bus to Antigua, grab some breakfast, hop another bus to Guatemala, find my way to the Centro Histórico, where the library is, and then between three and five hours pouring through the newspaper archives. Then a quick (and fabulously cheap) lunch, another couple of bus rides, and back to Jocotenango for a quick nap before dinner and/or a beer or two with the gang. Not a bad life, really, except for the bus rides. I almost lost it at a guy on the bus on Wednesday after he tried to grind up against me in a less than respectful way while we were all crammed together during an especially crowded section of the bus route. Buses here are not for the claustrophobic.

Last Sunday a group of us made the trip to Sumpango, a small town in the same department (Guatemala is broken up in to departments and then those are broken up in to municipalities) as Antigua. Guatemala does not have the same traditions as Mexico (that most of us in the States are familiar with) for the Day of the Dead. Instead, many Guatemalans follow the indigenous/catholic practice of decorating the graves of their loved ones and flying kites over the cemetery. According to my guidebook, the kites are meant to represent the spirits of the dead. Two towns, Sumpango and Santiago Sacatepéquez, hold kite festivals on November 1st. The kites are made out of tissue paper, wood (looked like bamboo) and scotch tape, and the larger kites can reach up to 50 ft in diameter. Townspeople fly the kites smaller than twenty feet across in the afternoon (which unfortunately we missed due to some transportation arraignments). It really was an incredible sight. The bigger kites each had a theme. This year, at least in Sumpango, the themes seemed to revolve around the environment, violence against women, and indigenous heritage. The first photo is a view of the kites from across the soccer field, the second a little boy on top of a crypt in the cemetery, getting ready to fly his kite. The kites were really impressive. At first we thought they would try to fly the larger kites, but after a few conversations with some locals (who more or less laughed at us when we mentioned flying the big kites) we realized that the really giant kites were just for show. I particularly liked a kite that took a famous Dalí painting and reworked in with an image of an indigenous woman. Oh, and in case you were wondering, in Guatemala, kites are called barriletes (the word for kite in Spanish changes depending on where you are). It really is impressive, isn't it, what you can do with some tissue paper and scotch tape?