Weekend at the Lake Part II

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Volcanoes on the way to San Pedro"][/caption]

The morning began with a very long boat ride. About halfway across the lake the motor died so we were forced to use the little docking motor which at least didn't cause the waves to splash us in the face.

Once in San Pedro we struck out pretty bad looking for hotel rooms, settling finally for a terrible on next to an office that opens at 7:00 am and surrounded by vicious barking dogs. After about ten minutes there we made up an excuse to get our money back and leave.

Mike kept whining at me about leaving Santiago and how we could have stayed and hung with people we met at the hotel there. Finally we met a guy who offered us a room and took us down a convoluted series of footpaths to Hotel San Francisco where 110Q (55 each) got us two beds, a bathroom, and an incredible view.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="View from Hotel San Francisco"][/caption]

We spent the evening chatting with the French girls above us before heading to the underwhelming bar scene on the strip below.

At seven the next morning we were greeted by a rather loud motor of some sort puttering very loudly about twenty yards away. Mike kept goading me to come swimming with him, but by then I was rather fed up with him and just wanted to be alone.

I waited for him until just before check-out and then grabbed my stuff and headed for old San Pedro, a steep climb from the little tourist nest where we had spent the night. In San Pedro I came up against the municipal parade, complete with princess and marching band. I met another American waiting for the bus to the Altiplano and together we took in the parade and traded traveler tips.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="The parade stopped midday traffic"][/caption]

Then it was onto the bus and back to reality. After the pushy vendors of Atitlán it felt good to be back in the drab industrial hub of Santa Cruz.

Weekend at the Lake Part I

The day began with three bus rides between Santa Cruz and Panajachel, riding sometimes seven abreast down  out of the chilly Altiplano and into Atitlán's shimmering blue lined by volcanoes. Panajachel somewhat resembles the tourist hubs of Mexico, Mazatlan, Puerto Vallarta, the ravages of tourism having long ago replaced any quaintness it may have once possessed with stand after stand selling Mayan "curiosities" and woven dreadlock caps. We caught a boat across the lake for 50Q and landed on the opposite side in the somewhat smaller Santiago where we had heard there was to be a festival this weekend of Mike's birthday.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Watching the procession"][/caption]

Midday found us watching as high school girls played basketball in the beating sun on a court directly adjacent to a stage with a marimba band playing away. At intervals the action was punctuated with the ear-shattering crack of firecrackers blasted from makeshift mortars in the town square. At one point a bank's alarm went off filling the air with an awful din, deterring neither players nor band nor pyrotechnicians.

We went up a small rise to the town church to wait for the procession of idols we were told would come. As we sat on the church steps, two little boys approached us and offered to take us to see Maximón. I had heard that Maximón is a deity who's not altogether benevolent, someone to appease lest he give an illness or a bad harvest. The children led down a side street to a little house pretty far off the beaten path where Maximón's carved effigy sat smoking with a couple of old men surrounded by candles and other related shrines.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="These asshats decided the entire ceremony was for them alone"][/caption]

We went to see the procession at the church, but some jerks were sticking huge video cameras in everyone's faces so we could hardly even see. They paraded the idols up to the church steps where various community members were seated in traditional dress. Three cases were brought in, each with about sixteen one-liter bottles of beer. Some of the men bearing the idols poured cup after cup of beer for the people on the steps to drink and for other men in the procession. Meanwhile a band played and men dance about drunkenly, a few of them speaking to the idols and kissing their garments.

After a while we decided to go back to are room, but we were waylaid by and Israeli girl named Heidi who convinced us to go back to town to check out the Salsa band that was now playing. We went and had a few beers and did some dancing before we decided it was time to call it a night.

An Announcement for Deaf Ears

This morning at about five in the morning I was awakened by a very loud siren's tone slowly rising and falling, rising and falling for what seemed like forever. Evidently its source wasn't moving very quickly. After a while the siren gave way to loud music which, due to the Doppler effect, was just an odd mash of instruments and voices. Next came indiscernible Spanish words over a loudspeaker over the music. It seemed to go on this way for about half an hour. After that, I heard the siren again which FINALLY worked its way off into the distance.

I really wished I had a bullet for whatever PA it was coming from. If only.

Unbelievable!

So I get an email that says,

"Our Depot Service Center has shipped Order number #########. Your Order is being shipped by Federal Express and your air waybill number is ############.
You should expect the shipping time not to exceed two (2) business days."

"HOORAY!", right? So, then I go to the FedEx site to check my waybill:

"Destination      PORTLAND, OR"

WHAT?! Three phone calls later, after confirming to the nice a lady at the Fujitsu call center that Guatemala is indeed not in the United States, I learn that they have to ship to the address in "Portlānd" listed on my warranty.

OMG i no can has computerz! No wai!

My next computer ≠ Fujitsu

To Teach is to Learn

Well, Mike taught his first class last night. Eleven students at level 4. It appears he has some challenges to overcome as a teacher. Firstly, there's the course book which uses Thai for some of the English examples and then prompts the students to reflect on which Thai greeting is appropriate for the example. Then there is the click of girls who are attached at the hip and complain loudly about his lack of Spanish. I'm not so sure anymore that I wouldn't mind teaching.

On Sunday Mike and I went with Miguel and Joel to the ruins of Gumarkaaj (aka Utitlán). There were Mayans in all quarters burning herbs and candles and even playing marimba. We explored of a couple of deep caves foggy with smoke from ceremonies and dimly lit by candles. Later as Mike surveyed a view of the surrounding area from a mound of earth, Miguel exclaimed "Highlander!" and we all had a laugh. I told Mike he's going to be getting that sort of thing from people the whole time he's here. He didn't mind. Mike's such a good sport.

Meet me in Sacapulas

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="View to the northwest of Robertos house"][/caption]

Saturday meant it was time to hit the road again. This time to visit the family of Roberto, Mike's supervisor and all-around great guy. Around 11:00, Mike and I hopped a microbus to his town of Sacapulas about and hour over some of the most twisty, speedbump-laden road I've yet to travel on. During the drive I became positively ill.

Upon arriving, after I give a couple of heaves toward the sidewalk, we walked to central park where we met a welcoming committee of Roberto and three of his three children, Sherly, Diego, and Julian. After a short stroll we were at Roberto's charming three-story house set in a little courtyard on the side of a hill.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="375" caption="Roberto with his children"][/caption]

We sat a while and chatted with him and his dad while the little one scurried about and generally made merry. His daughter Shelly proclaimed that he had seen Mike before in a movie. When we asked which, she replied "El Rey de los Anillos" (The Lord of the Rings).

After our descansa, we were treated to a rather lavish lunch of chicken, rice and diced vegetables in cream. Next we retired to Roberto's father's room where we got to see some precious family heirlooms, some of them ancient. They told us about a festival in the first week of August where the people of Sacapulas gather in homes and dance traditional dances. I told them if I can handle the microbus ride I could come and partake.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="375" caption="Roberto's father with staff"][/caption]

Before leaving we took one last stop at a hot springs on the riverbank where people come to bathe. Compared to the relative conservatism I've encountered so far, it was refreshing to see that people aren't uptight when it came to bathing. Roberto explained that it was generally more accepted that the men came to bathe in the mornings and evenings leaving to women during the daytime, it's not unheard of for men to come during the day as well. I must admit, after three weeks of lukewarm showers I was tempted to strip down and take a warm bath.

Una Visita

Yesterday for my first excursion outside of Santa Cruz Del Quiché, I went to visit Brenda in nearby Chiché. I met Brenda at Katie’s going away party. She’s a free-spirited, redheaded artist from Colorado who has come to Guatemala on an art grant. I caught up with her in Chiché’s library painting the three-foot by two-foot pages of a giant book meant to tour various towns and villages and enrich the lives of children. I would have taken Mike, but when I saw him that morning, he looked positively pale. Mike’s been under the weather since her arrived a week ago from Xela.

Brenda took me to the house where she’s staying and we made a lunch of eggs, pasta and veggies and discussed what it means to be a foreigner in Guatemala and what it was like for us back in “The States”. I learned that Brenda has it pretty hard being a single white woman in the small town of Chiché. She daily endures catcalls and whistles from charming local gentlemen as well as nasty rumors of extravagant moral transgression. To make matters worse she hasn’t gotten on well with either of the hosts she’s had and cites theft and obsessive compulsion among their faults.

Before leaving I helped Brenda run a few errands including dropping off the book pages to have grommets put in them for binding and transferring some data from a net café to the library via sneakernet. We said our goodbyes and I was on my way. Back in Quiché I caught a ride with Jesus to Cargo Expreso, the courier who has my computer. Apparently they opened the box in Guatemala City and there’s an extra fee I didn’t pay for sending electronics. I sure hope it makes it to Tennessee in one piece…

Oh, one more tidbit... Here is a fun lil interactive map of Guatemala with locations to know and tell that pertain to my visit here:

http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&msa=0&msid=117702813592369502039.00044d3db59b242f29658&ll=15.037643,-90.96405&spn=0.928375,1.51062&z=9

You can check it periodically for updates.

Coasting

As of last night the water pump is in working condition. Also, it appears that the house hasn't flooded since the advent of the ditch. I learned yesterday morning that I am no longer expected to teach. Apparently enrollment is down. I was just getting used to the idea... The night before I had a nightmare about having a bunch of English students and being and having them run roughshod all over me the way some kids do when you give them the chance.

In a strange way, I'm kind of disappointed. There was a sort of training session at 5:30 last night where we took a class session as mock English students from a girl they have teaching here regularly. I went anyway just to gain a feel for what it's like and to have a little bit of background in case I need to sub or what have you.

R.I.P. Fujitsu LifeBook

Well, my laptop failed this morning. And not in the sort of confusing "It won't turn on" sort of way, but in more of a decisive "The entire screen has turned into strange geometric patterns and it makes cryptic system beeps" kind of way.

Don Simeon showed up a second time last night and messed with the circuits inside the bomba while it flashed and threw sparks at him. Then, having failed to fix it, he insisted on trying to fix the toilet in the absence of running water as if we could know whether or not it had actually been fixed.

At six last night, I got a phone call from Hilda. She came at seven to get me and take me to a hotel two blocks from Enlace, so at least I got a real shower and shave last night.

It was only a matter of time

Well, since our friends from Virginia left, Enlace Quiche has asked me to fill the vacancies they left behind for English teachers. That's right, now they want me to conduct English classes. I specifically chose this program because it was one of the few where the principal activity WASN'T TEACHING ENGLISH.

In other news, I've begun day three without water.



Don Simeon stood us up yesterday after he told he would come by to look at the bomba. He didn't even give us a phone call. So not only did we not get our plumbing fixed, but we wasted a couple hours in the middle of the day waiting for him in vain.

I want to go home.

Crossing our fingers

Yesterday I again awoke to water under my feet. This time I was pissed. It was the third time in two weeks and nobody had done anything about it. I left for the office prepared to send a nasty letter to the chair of board of directors in San Francisco. When I got there I think I successfully conveyed my attitude because Hilda went straight to her desk and called the landlord. She had to threaten to find another place before he would agree to come do something about it.

At 1:30 I grabbed mike and we headed home. Hilda came at two and it wasn’t until about 2:30 that Don Simeon, the landlord finally showed up. After traipsing half the muddy street in with his boots and kindly depositing it on my wet bedroom floor, he surmised what I’ve been insisting since day one; It’s coming through the #%@! wall. I showed him the trench alongside the house and he set to work clearing it so that the water can run out. I sure hope this works.



While Simeon was checking out the house, the city power died. Thus, we didn’t have an opportunity to troubleshoot the “bomba” that pumps water to our faucets and toilet. According to Mike, one morning after I had left for work it died for good (not the stutter-start thing it seems to like doing every so often). It wouldn’t surprise me. It’s not designed to be unplugged all the time and then plugged back in each time someone needs to take a dump.

Not having any water to do dishes, Mike and I ventured out to get a meal. We happened into an interesting conversation with an Angelino native to Guatemala. He was in town for the seven year anniversary of the death of his mother. It had been a long time since he had returned.

Was it something I said?

Well, it's official. Jessie and Stacey have decisively peaced out. They came back this morning while I was at work. Mike was just getting up when they arrive and he said they were in quite the hurry. He said they looked afraid he would hurt them or something. They packed up their stuff and uttered scarcely a word. They told him they were going back to the United States, but I don't know how much we can trust what they say. Somehow, I don't think they were cut out for Santa Cruz del Quiche. Suffice to say each of them had like four pairs of sandals.

Business as usual

Well, it turns out Stacey and Jessie aren’t much company at all. They spent most of their time cooped up in their room and then promptly disappeared to another town. I woke up the next morning to find the house had flooded again, this time with the cover off the drain. So much for that theory. I think the culprit is this waist-deep ditch alongside the west wall.



It doesn’t look as if it has very good drainage. What perplexes me is how they didn’t catch this before I moved in. It rains literally every day here. I seems likely that it would have flooded at least once during the construction process.

My other housemate has arrived, hopefully this time for good. His name is Mike and he’s fresh from four weeks on Spanish classes in Quetzaltenango. He’s been all over the world. Born in Canada, he spent many of his formative years in New Zealand. His most recent job was as an accountant at a University in Sydney, Australia. Mike is a bit disappointed to find that there isn’t more of a colorful cast of world travelers working here at Enlace, but he’s also excited by the authenticity of this place, noting that we’re almost the only gringos in this town of about 20,000.



Speaking of other gringos, I spoke briefly with an LDS missionary from Denver Colorado who goes by Elder Rennie. He told me that there is evidence to suggest a link between the native peoples of Utah and those associated with the nearby similar-sounding ancient city of Utitlán. Go figure.