Semana Santa 2010

I swear I really will post something of substance soon. But while you're waiting, take a look at my favorite photos from Holy Week in Antigua. I spent a few days following my friend (who is a professional photographer) around taking photos of the processions. So here's a selection for you to enjoy..

2 Months! Oh My!

Holy heck, it really has been two months since I last wrote? What could possibly be a good excuse? Would you buy that my life has turned into a soap opera which I want to eventually turn into a novel and am therefore keeping things under wraps? Hmm, well, the soap opera part is mostly true, anyway. As for keeping things under wraps, this has less to do with writing a novel and more to do with the fact that I really don't want to spread my private life over the internet. Not a ton of adventuring was to be had (although there was some adventuring) and so I didn't feel compelled to write on the blog. Although if you'd like to hear about the private life soap opera stuff, feel free to contact me for the sordid details.

I spent a good part of the last two months in Guatemala, writing and doing background research. Which any good field researcher will tell you is not what you're supposed to do while in the field. But hell, that's what I did. I'm not proud, necessarily, but I don't deny it, either. I'm starting to think of Guatemala as a sort of pleasant quicksand (for me at least). It partially has to do with the fact that I lost my way a bit when I found out that I had been denied a grant that I was really hoping for (let that be a warning to anyone relying on a grant proposal to get something important in their project completed....what do I do now?). And of course some of my inertia had to do with the aforementioned telenovela that had taken over my life. Sometimes that stuff gets in the way. Anyway, lets just say that I spent a lot of time writing and looking things up online and listening to podcasts and reading novels and drinking with my friends. There was a rather productive four days spent at a conference in New Orleans (ok, three days, since the first day was Mardi Gras). And I finally got my butt down to El Salvador this week. So it's not like things are completely stagnant. Nor were they. But hindsight, you know...

What interesting things did I do in these long months? Well, I can tell you the story of the Nativity Party. Apparently there is a tradition in Guatemala (I have no idea if this goes the same for other Latin American countries) that if someone steals your Baby Jesus from your nativity scene during the Christmas season, that person can ask for a ransom. Traditionally this means that the person whose Jesus was stolen has to throw a huge party for which the thief will eventually pay (from how I understood things, the victim of the theft can spend whatever he or she likes and the thief has to reimburse him or her....but you take a risk thinking that every thief will pay!). I took me a while to get this all straight, since almost everyone explaining it to me had had something to drink. Plus there was the added bonus that one of the uncles at the party that I attended (at a friend's house) kept comparing me to the huge painting of Jesus on the wall (he had blue eyes like mine). The nativity party happened to coincide with a rather strange parade through town, full of kids and adults dressed as cartoon characters that did silly coreographed dances to reggaeton music. It was a bit surreal, all told.

I also took a trip to the famous Sunday market in Chichicastenango with some friends. We piled in to my friend's car early Sunday morning (after a late Saturday night I might add, which belongs in the soap opera category and will not be discussed here) and drove the 2.5 hours or so to the Chichi market. We didn't even get lost on the way there! It's not that much different than other markets I've been to in Guatemala in terms of what kind of stuff is sold. But it's just so much bigger! You could definitely get lost. One of the friends I hitched along with is a photographer and he had a field day taking pictures of anything and everything. If you ever find yourself in Chichicastenango, don't forget to make a stop in the church. The church is particularly interesting (I think) because of the stone altars running down the center aisle where Mayan shamans conduct syncretistic rituals pulled from traditional Mayan and Catholic cultures dating back to the conquest. Lots of flowers and candles and incense.

Hmm, what else can I tell you about the last few months? I started running three times a week with a fellow norteamericana. Before I started running in Antigua I thought the cobblestones were a small pain in the butt. Now I am convinced that they have a grudge against me. Running on the sidewalks and roads around Antigua are kind of like trail running in the woods around Sewanee with the added bonus of buses and pick ups trying to run you down or drowning you in black exhaust smoke. And all at altitude! But to tell the truth it was fun to get up at 5:45 am, run for 30-45 min., take a shower and crawl back into bed. Such a tough life, right? I'm attaching some photos of the sidewalks so you can see what I mean about the footing. The first photo is, granted, the most narrow area on the walk/run between Jocotenango, where my house is, and Antigua, where my running partner lives. We usually start running towards each other and when we meet up we decide where to go next. The second photo is also of the road between Jocotenango and Antigua. The bummer is that one of us has to run in the ditch (and if someone is coming the other way, both of us end up there). You definitely want to keep your eyes on the road!

Stay tuned tomorrow or the next day and I'll update you on my trip to El Salvador and my impressions of San Salvador. Granted I've mostly been in the basement of the library, so I haven't seen too much of the city. Well, unless you count getting lost while trying to walk to the library from the hostel where I'm staying. But I pretend that didn't happened.

back again

I’m jumping around a bit in time for this post, dear readers, so please forgive this lapse in chronology. I still haven’t written about my last trip in December before heading home for the holidays, nor have I updated you on my adventures over the break. But since it’s fresh in my head I thought I would give you all a quick post about my trip back to Guatemala.

So here is how things stand. I flew into Guatemala Sunday after a little less than a month in the States. As most of you know, I decided to move everything I own out of my apartment and into a storage unit so I could travel for the better part of this next year without worrying about rent payments etc. Let’s just say that the move was interesting. Actually, setting aside that the fact that the move itself caused a few minor tiffs among my family over logistics and that moving day brought with it more than a few inches of snowfall, things went pretty well. My friends in town stepped up to my desperate call for help and fate arranged it so that I could guilt my sister into staying a few extra days (yes, Jenn, I know you didn’t really help out of guilt). Continuing this streak of generosity on the part of my friends, another friend put me up Friday night (we emptied my apartment on Thursday) and I took advantage of the commuter train into Chicago Saturday afternoon. My flight was scheduled to leave O’Hare at 6 am, which meant that I had to be at the airport somewhere between 3 and 4 (given that international flyers are encouraged to get to the airport 3 hours in advance and that security has been even more tight since the bombings on that flight from Amsterdam to Detroit around Christmas). So I checked into a hotel near the airport on Saturday night after the 2.5 hour train ride to downtown Chicago and the 1 hour ride on the “L” to the airport itself.

Things started getting interesting once I made it to the airport. I hauled myself out of bed at 2:30 am to catch the shuttle to the airport and put myself at the end of the reasonably short line in front of the Spirit Air counter just after 3:30. Once I got to the front of the line, the airline representative cheerily informed me that I was lucky, since I would most likely make my connecting flight despite the delay. Delay? What delay? Sunday was one of the best days we’ve had in the middle and eastern parts of the country in weeks. Clear sky for most of the country east of the Mississippi and the temperatures were rising. This lovely weather, however, didn’t stop one of the flight attendants to call in sick that morning, and, apparently, the flight cannot take off without the minimum number of flight attendants. So we were stuck waiting to hear whether or not they would be able to fly a substitute flight attendant in from Detroit. To make a long story a bit shorter, after several contradictory assessments of my ability to make my connection in Fort Lauderdale and two trips through security I actually made my flight and the connection despite the two-hour delay. Plus I had a lengthy conversation with a very nervous woman on her way to a cruise she didn’t really want to go on, shared a copy of the New York Times with a friendly older gentleman who regaled me with his opinions of Fox News, had difficulty not laughing at my neighbor as he tried to hide the fact that he was talking on the phone with his girlfriend while the plane was getting ready to take-off even though the flight attendant stood right in front of him to give the safety demonstration (he ended up putting a sweatshirt over his head and told his girlfriend she could talk to him but he couldn’t answer her for a few minutes), and had to fend off numerous taxi drivers when exiting the airport in Guatemala City who just couldn’t seem to understand that no, even though I look like a backpacker, I don’t need a taxi to Antigua (my big backpack must have been misleading…plus being a blond gringa doesn’t help either).

Somehow my friends found me in the crowd outside the door at the airport (apparently some famous singer on a reality show was flying in that day and people where waiting for a glimpse). But of course, as things go here, we didn’t actually head straight towards our destination. We walked upstairs to the departures area so that one of my friends could buy a plane ticket to Chicago (ironic, no, since I had just come from there?) for the next day and ran in to some acquaintances of my chauffeurs. Which led to a quick meal at one of the restaurants in the airport and an hour or so of chatting. The rest of the evening consisted of breaking into the trunk of my friends car (the key had been broken off in the lock by a would-be thief) so that he could give the suitcase inside to his friend who had been basically clothes-less for a week while his worldly possessions were stuck in the trunk, a tour of my friend’s office (he is a professional photographer), changing a flat tire (in record time, I might add…I think they’ve had lots of practice), a trip to drop off the previously stuck suitcase, a stop at my other friends house to pick up a few things, another stop for food, and then, finally, the drive up to Antigua. Truthfully, it was a great way to be welcomed back to Guatemala. It reminded me why I love this place. Nothing is ever simple or straightforward and even a quick trip to pick someone up at the airport can turn into a journey of epic proportions.

Cuevas y Lagunas III

Feels funny to be writing this two weeks after the actual trip. Things just keep coming up, I suppose. Or something. Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes, arriving in Lanquin. Much of the road from Coban to Lanquin is a not really well maintained dirt/gravel road. I'm glad that I wasn't the one driving, to tell the truth, or at least that it wasn't my car. But we made it to the hostel just in time to grab the last cabin and catch the family style buffet dinner the hostel is apparently famous for. And it was well worth the Q45 (just a little bit more than 5 bucks). We ended up in a pretty cabin overlooking the river and slept like the dead until early the next morning.

The next morning we packed our stuff up in the car and started to walk into town with the intention of grabbing local transportation to Semuc Champey. The road from Lanquin to Semuc is an even less well maintained dirt/gravel road with the added fun of steep inclines. Fun for a pickup, but not so fun for a four door sedan. So our plan was to grab a ride in the local minvans that serve as buses to and from Semuc. Lucky for us a truck working for a hotel closer to the national park stopped and offered us a ride and we spent the half-hour or so chatting with the driver in the cab. He didn't even charge us very much, just Q20 for the pair (outrageously cheap if you were actually hiring a tourism truck to take you around and much less than what he charged the other gringo he was taking to the park). Seriously, people are ridiculously friendly here.

Here's a little bit about Sempuc Champey. It's a series of limestone pools hidden up in the mountains. Just above the pools the river dives deep into caves that run under the whole area. Just below the pools the river emerges and the water from the pools joins the river in a series of waterfalls. The water in the pools themselves comes from runoff coming down from the steep mountainsides that surround them. It really is an incredible sight. The national park is simple but well maintained. It's an incredible place to hike and to swim, and can get very busy on holidays and weekends, especially during Holy Week. There are well hidden lifeguards (I had no idea they were there until the yelled at someone for jumping into the pools from a stupid spot) and a few guides here and there to make sure no one falls into the river or off a cliff (which does apparently happen every once in a while). We didn't have a lot of time to spend in the area since we had to return to Guatemala that night (my friend had to be at work at 7:00 the next morning) so once we got to the park we headed straight for an overlook platform high above the pools. It's about a 30 to 45 minute hike up the side of one of the surrounding mountains. A fun hike, and well worth it, but we were certainly ready for a swim by the time we got back down to the pools. I took the picture above from the viewing platform. Truly an amazing sight, no?

Once we made our way down from the overlook we did a bit of exploring. We wandered around to see where the river enters the caves underneath the limestone pools, being very careful not to slip or fall. The rocks just underneath the water (the areas of the photos that are more brown than turquoise) are slick and it would be easy to loose your balance if you're not careful. I was amazed at how much a difference it made with the tiny bit of extra traction provided by a pair of well-worn havaiana flip-flops. The next photo is a picture of the river as it rushes down underground. My friend was telling me that a co-worker of hers drown here a little over a year ago because he had walked up close to the edge that you can see here on the right and slipped and fell into the water. It's hard to see in the photo, but the water is pretty fast moving and rough and it more or less plunges straight down into a hole just underneath where we were standing when I took this picture. I'm not sure if they ever found his body. We were standing behind a wooden fence when I took this photo that protects those who want a view of the river from just such a fall. But if you cross the pools at this point, as you can see from the photo there is no fence up close to the edge of the river itself. It was definitely a dizzy feeling standing there and not only seeing but also hearing and feeling the river rush underneath us.

We spent the rest of the afternoon swimming in the various pools. The water was pretty cold, but it felt refreshing after the climb up to and down from the overlook. There were very few other people around and it felt like we had the place to ourselves. The water in the pools is crystal clear. The turquoise color doesn't come from the rocks or from the water itself but from the depth of the pools. The deeper the pool the richer the color. But when you're actually swimming the water has no color to it at all and you can see all the way down unless you're in a particularly deep area. The little fish that live in the larger pools are fearless and will come up and nibble on your skin in order to eat (I'm assuming) the dead skin and other tasty (yucky) stuff that they can get off of you. It's a strange feeling...you can actually tell they are nibbling on you. It's not that they bite, but it definitely tickles. Sit still for even a little bit and there will be a swarm (or school?) of little fish surrounding you.

Once we finished swimming and changed back into our sweat soaked clothes (yeah, I know, yuck) we headed back out to the entrance of the park to catch a minivan/bus back to Lanquin. Much to our chagrin, however, the bus just never showed up. It passed us on the way up the mountain to the villages above Semuc Champey and never came back down. We ended up catching a ride in the back of a pickup with some guys heading to Coban. They even offered us a ride to Coban with them, but we since we had left my friend's car in Lanquin we had to decline the offer. So we spent a slightly harrowing ride (damn but they drove fast!) back to Lanquin in the bed of a pickup truck with an indigenous woman and her young son, two Guatemalan men from Lanquin and a Danish guy we met while waiting for the bus. I have to say transportation here in Guatemala is always interesting, no matter how you get somewhere. It's always an adventure to get from point A to point B. As soon as we got back to Lanquin we dove into the car and started our way back to Guatemala City. It took us about 5 hours or so and we went straight to bed, exhausted, for the third night in a row.

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!"