Archive for the 'Guatemala' Category
Volcan Pacaya, the Gigantic, Hot Geological Pastry
Published September 8, 2007 Guatemala Leave a CommentWe started today with a little hang over, our first good cups of Guatemalan coffee and a stroll around Antigua. It’s is such a pretty city! It’s too bad about all of the tourists.
In the afternoon, we went to climb the Volcan Pacaya. The volcano is only about an hour outside of Antigua and lots of tour operators do very inexpensive trips, so it was teeming with tourists. When we got to the ranger station, we were greeted by a gaggle of boys selling hiking sticks for a few cents. I felt a little bad that I already had ridiculously over-engineered and expensive hiking sticks and no reason to buy theirs.
We started up the volcano at a brisk pace. On the way up, we passed a tourist who must have weighed three hundred pounds on a tiny pony. How I felt for that poor pony! It’s a steep hike, but very short. Most trips don’t take you all the way to the crater, because it’s become quite difficult and dangerous.
After a short approach, we reached a rim, where we could see the cone of the volcano and a ribbon of lava running down the side. In the distance we could see all of the volcanoes that rim Lago de Atitlan. We descended down onto the hardened lava flows. The rock looked like frosting, gently undulating into the distance. Some of the rock was super shiny, reflecting rainbow colors. It was also amazingly sharp, forming all sorts of little crystalline structures. They would break off, creating tiny, super sharp rock splinters for my fingers.
As we started up the slope, we quickly realized rock was not solid. The current lava crust was four years old. Under it was a layer of lava eight years old. In between the two were tubes, some of which contained molten lava. We were careful to test step before we put our weight on anything. We were also careful hike far ahead of the heavy fellow, who having left his pony, was huffing and puffing up behind us.
As we hiked higher and higher, over lava flows, the ground got warmer and warmer. I was wearing my Chacos, the only hiking shoes I had brought. Eventually, I had to start hopping from foot to food to stand the heat. While my Chacos withstood the heat, the basket of my hiking stick melted and warped. I wished I had bought a fifty cent stick.
We hiked up to this, one of a number of terranean lava flows. The lava would slowly bubble and ooze its way out of the ground, as if the earth were a giant geological pastry bag. We hung out for a while, poking the lava with a stick and playing volcano chicken. We began to descend as dusk fell, and when we reached the ranger station it was pitch dark. We looked back up the mountain and the lava flow had expaned to four or five times its original size.
I can’t believe my first experience with an active volcano was so up closed and perilous. One again, it gave me a great appreciation for the Guatemalan safety ethic.
I’m twenty-one! (And in a country where I haven’t been carded once.) I woke up this morning to a giant pile of cards. Some of them were singing and some had silly baby pictures, but they were all great. Thank you so much everyone!
We decided to move along to Antigua for the fantastic Allyfiesta. Since it’s a long haul, we took the first class bus. I assumed that they boys remembered it was a long trip, and that they knew the first rule of Guatemalan bus travel: limited fluid intake.
As with all Guatemalan highway travel, there was construction. Lots of seemingly senseless and endless construction, courtesy of the Korean government. The four hour trip grew into five hours, but our bladders seemed to be shrinking. By the time we reached Sacatepequez, where we were to change busses, one of us had peed in a bottle, and the other two were about to explode. Desperate, we settled for the first establishment in sight, a strip club.
The proprietress was wearing six inch platform shoes, a dress that wouldn’t have been out of place at a prom attened by Molly Ringwald, a wig, and more makeup than Tammy Faye Baker. Plus, I swear she was pregnant. In the back, girls were gyrating around to 80s pop hits. We kept our heads down and paid our 1Q to use the bathroom. It was everything you would expect of a sleezy strip club sandwitched between an auto parts store and a recycling center and open at noon; there was no seat, an inch of standing water on the floor, and paper napkins for toilet tissue. But it was all worth it to see the look on Scott’s face after seeing that stripper.
After the great bathroom fiaso, we continued on to Antigua. Antigua is an incredibly pretty city. It was the second colonial capital, before a spate of earthquakes in 1773 forced a move to the current capital. But the runis only add to the city’s charm. In addition to the ruins, there are all sorts of amazing restored cathedrals, convents and monestaries.
For my birthday, we had dinner at an amazing restaurant. It was so strange to eat in a fancy resturant with cloth napkins, candels, an expensive winelist, overbearing waiters and all the rest, but it was wonderful! We went out for drinks and dancing at a funky club overlooking a ruined convent. But, being the party animals we are, we went back to the hotel and fell asleep after one drink!
Today we decided to visit Fuentes Georginas. However, we were in for quite a surprise. Driving through the town of Almonga, we were stopped by preperations for an election rally. It appeared that every truck in town was out for the event. Eventually, our bus driver gave up, and demanded that everyone get out, so he could return to Xela. We continued on foot, walking downhill to the next town. We hired a pickup to the hotsprings, which were everything they were last time.
On the return trip we caught a bus to Almonga, but by that time the parade was in full force and we were again impeded. Almonga is especially civic minded. That is, if political participation could be measured by confetti and the number of abuelitas in attendance. As we walked through town, a fellow told us that he knew a back way through town, and that he would take us all the way to Xela for 60Q. We took him up on his offer, and away we went. But we didn’t get very far. As it turned out, his alternate route ran right back into the parade route.
Unable to beat it, we ended up joining the parade. We weren’t all that out of place, since all of the floats were old disel trucks, decorated top to bottom, stuffed full of entire families and blaring their horns. Flags, banners, giant stereotypical sombreros, horns, and sheets of newspaper were all popular acutremonts. Scott took this photo of the truck behind us. We wondered how they could see out of the windshield, but since we were only moving two or three miles an hour it wasn’t much of an issue.
As an added bonus, there was an old Charlie’s produce truck parked along the parade route! This is especially ironic because Almonga is the vegetable capital of Central America. On the other hand, many Guatemalans attribute Almonga’s soil fertility to their Evangelical Christanity, which might not jive as well with Charlie’s.
San Pedro and Yet Another Long Winded Travel Story in Which Ally Ends Up Naked
Published September 5, 2007 Guatemala 1 CommentThis morning we woke up super early to climb Volcan San Pedro. Armed with pan tostado, nutella, lots of agua and a guide from Bigfoot Tours, we set off. The hike began in town, quickly climbing up through the outskirts and along the highway. Once we left the paved streets behind, we hiked up through coffee and cornfields, then temperate forest, and then an almost alpine summit. The trail got steeper and steeper, sometimes turning to stairs. The boys put me to shame, almost running up the track while I huffed and puffed behind. The boys also put me to shame on the way back down, where Scott did some mud skiing, using his trekking poles for traction and steering. We paid a little bit extra for a private guide, he brought his son with him, so I was easily amused talking to them about life in San Pedro, school, and soccer. Unfortunately, it was cloudy, so there was no view to show for all of our effort. This photo is actually from yesterday.
Just as exciting was our trip back to Xela. After we got cleaned up and had a hot lunch we inquired around about the bus terminal. Unfortunately, the last bus to Xela had left an hour earlier. Xela. Our tuk-tuk driver offered to take us to the next town, where we could catch a combi to Xela. But by that point, it had begun to rain, and two hours in the back of a pickup with all of our luggage seemed less than appealing.
Instead, we decided to take a boat back to Pana and catch a bus from there. We finally found a boat, settled on a fare, and set off into the driving rain. Unfortunately, the tarp that the ayudante had tacked over us was poor protection from the storm. Between the rain and the spray we were quickly soaked. We were wet and miserable, when the boat stalled and we were suddenly adrift, beam to and beginning to get a little bit seasick. I was beginning to wonder what would become of our three hour tour and if I would be more Ginger or Mary Ann when the captain finally got the boat moving.
In Pana we caught a tuk-tuk, and then a bus to Solola, and then a bus to Los Encuentros. Los Encuentros a major road junction where you often have to change busses. Usually, it’s incredibly busy, but it eight when we arrived, so all the little roadside stands were shut up and there weren’t a lot of people around or busses passing. It was dark, and after three or four hours of travelling, I was wet and cold, unable to stand my soaking skirt any longer. Hiding behind the boys, I tried to change clothes. The very second I took off my skirt, the bus pulled up! I was half-naked in front of one of the most crowded camionetas I’ve ever seen. A good laugh was had all around.
When we finally got to Xela, we ended up at Casa Argentina, which was nice, because it feels as much like home as anywhere in Guatemala to me. Mama Argie took one look at me and laughed and laughed that I was back. I think Shawn was also a little relieved, as he got to offload the twenty pounds of industrial grade zipper that he had brought down for Quetzaltrekkers. Talk about being generous!
Atitlan, Where the Rainbow Gets Its Colors and Panajachel, Where the Gringoes Go
Published September 3, 2007 Guatemala Leave a CommentChichcastenago, the Commercial Heart of Central America
Published September 2, 2007 Guatemala Leave a Comment
I’m not one to haggle. I hate the feeling that I’m being taken advantage of, but I also hate arguing over a couple of dollars with someone far worse off than me. On the other hand, Scott is an expert haggler. I’m sure his parents love knowing that his expensive UPenn econ education is being so well utilized. He would just walk away during negotiations, forcing the vendors to follow him, lowering their prices. Or he would get them to agree on a seemingly low price for a single item, and then ask them to lower it if he bought a second. He would always consult with us in English, to make himself seem unsure. The prices got better and better as they day wore on and the vendors wanted to get home, sans their wares, and I got better and better at haggling.
At the end of the day, we had purchased every imaginable sort of artesania: Some of the brightly colored and exquisitely embroidered textiles that stretched as far as the eye could see. Masks and musical instruments from shelves and shelves of smelly, but cool, carved wood. Jade, coral and silver jewelry from vendors with innumerable necklaces over their arms, tinkling as they walked. And tons of tiny, brightly colored trinkets from little indigenous children that crowded around us like ants wherever we walked. Worn out and with substantially lighter wallets, we set off for Panajactel.
First, we took a long and bumpy ride out to Semuc Champey, a limestone bridge over the Rio Cahabon. On top of the limestone bridge there are all of these lovely little pools. In places, the water is almost eerily blue. Some of the pools are ankle deep, while others are deep enough for swimming and diving. Along the edges of the pools the forest rose up steeply. All sorts trees and vines hang over the water, creating an especially exotic feel. Since we got such an early start, we had the park almost all to ourselves for most of the morning.
We waded upstream, to where the river runs under the bridge. The river had an incredible amount of force and made an absolute din. There used to be a rope ladder down to the river, but I was actually glad it was gone, so I didn’t have to admit that I was scared to climb down. At the end of the bridge, the streams rejoin in a massive waterfall. The water turns back to its normal brown and continues on its way.
After Semuc Champey, we headed over to the nearby Grutas de Lanquin, a series of limestone caves over the Lanquin River. To make the caves more accessible the Guatemalan authorities built a catwalk and put up diesel powered lights for the first few thousand feet of the cave. Despite the construction, the caves were extremely slippery from the moisture and guano, and I fell down a few times. Yet, somehow being covered in mud and bat crap didn’t detract from the experience.
Caves are extremely important in the Maya cosmology. They created and enhanced many caves as sacred spaces. The Maya divide the world into three parts, the underworld, the earth, and the heavens. Caves are seen as a gateway the underworld, where ancestors dwell.
The caves had a cathedral feel for us as well. They roof was hundred of feet above us, with stone spires called stalactites hanging down. Ahead of us, massive towers called stalagmites rose up out of the ground. Every formation was unique, and looked like different animal or object. The cave forms, a karst landscape, are created when rain and groundwater charged with carbonic acid dissolve the limestone and when calcium carbonate deposits are created by slow drips. Despite the lighting, everything had an eerie glow about it. The sounds were also amazing: the muffled roar of the river below us, the echoes of our footsteps, and the occasional bat.
After exploring the caves a bit, I can totally understand why people are so into spelunking. If I weren’t afraid of bats, the dark and being lost, I would be really into it too!
We hired a boat to take us to an hour down the river, through the uninhabited jungle, to one of the better preserved sites, Aguateca. The influence and fortunes of Aguateca, and its sister city, Dos Pilas, rose and fell like so many of the other sites I’ve discussed, following a pattern of overexpansion and overinvestment of resources in status symbols, and falling prey to environmental phenomena, changing trade patterns, and in this case, hostile neighbors.
Dos Pilas rose to prominence in the Late Classic period. The city was founded by a faction who split with Tikal around 640 CE. Their leader, Lightning Sky, was a member of the royal family who formed an allegiance with Calakmul and broke away during Tikal’s decline. For the next few centuries Dos Pilas was in a constant state of war and seige, fighting with Tikal, Ceibal, Yaxchilán and Motul and fending off Putun forces from Mexico. As a result Dos Pilas was abandoned, despite heavy fortifications, only a hundred years later around 760 CE.
Aguateca was Dos Pilas’ slightly less powerful sister city and trading partner. Many of the monuments there mirror those at Dos Pilas and show shared military victories. When Dos Pilas was abandoned most of the nobility migrated to Aguateca, a more defensible site. The city is surrounded by five kilometers of stone walls, no small feat given the steep terrain. Despite these extensive fortifications, Aguateca appears to have fallen around 790 CE, a mere thirty years after the Dos Pilas leadership moved there. Aguateca’s downfall is especially interesting because all evidence suggests it was sudden and violent. Some structures show fire damage, while many valuables ceremonial objects were smashed and household objects were left behind.
Aguateca’s defensive properties also made it amazingly scenic. The site is situated a few kilometers up steep, slippery, rocky embankment from the river. Some of the structures are situated on the bluff, making spectacular lookouts where you could see miles downriver. A deep chasm cuts through the middle of the settlement, spanned by a single bridge. I know the rainforest wasn’t as dense when the city was in service, but the thick, dark, almost oppressive foliage and the howling monkeys made the ruins seems even more mysterious and inhospitable. And while it probably wasn’t a key part of the Mayan defense strategy, the mosquitoes were so bad they certainly kept us from staying too long.
Today we visited Tikal, the most magnificent of the Guatemalan Mayan ruins. You probably remember it as a rebel base in a scene in Star Wars IV. The site has that sort of otherworldly aura, which attracts George Lucas, tens of thousands of tourists and us all the same.
Today we visited Yaxhá, a major Mayan ruin. Yaxhá is significantly larger than any of the other sites I’ve visited this trip, but still smaller than Tikal, which we’ll visit tomorrow, and El Mirador, which is virtually inaccessible in the rainy season and a five day hike in the dry season. Yaxhá would likely have been much larger, if not for its close proximity to and conflicts with Tikal. Yaxhá did dominate the nearby Maya state of Naranjo and trade with sites like Quiriga and Ceibal. Yaxhá hasn’t been excavated and restored to the same extent as Tikal, but so far they’ve found around five hundred structures. Since describing the site, building by building, wouldn’t be too interesting, I thought I’d share a little bit of what I’ve be reading about the ancient Maya.
This evening we went into Flores, a lovely little colonial city on an island in Lago Peten Itza, accessed only by causeway. While it was wonderful to have dinner there, I’m glad we’re staying in El Remate, twenty kilometers down the road to Tikal and Yaxhá. There are fewer tourists, and we have the most charming hotel, built into a hillside, complete with thatched huts, mosquito nets and hammocks, overlooking a crocodile infested lake!
Today we set out from Rio Dulce, north towards Poptun and Flores with detours to the Castillo de San Felipe, which we saw from the river yesterday, and Finca el Paraiso.
Today we continued ever eastward, all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. We hired a lancha to take us down Lago de Izabal and El Golfete, into the Caribbean Sea and the town of Livingston. The ride was absolutely beautiful, past the Castillo San Felipe, speeding down the immense golf before it bottlenecked into narrow channels, with sheer rock walls and rainforest rising above us, and shallowed out into lagoons complete with lily pads and little birds that walked on water.
Shawn and Scott arrived today! It was quite an ordeal, from my bus trip into Guatemala City, to their flight being delayed, to renting a car. We finally found an automatic with 4WD, a necessity for the rough roads ahead, and headed eastward to the absolute edge of Guatemala, the Belizean border, and the town of Rio Dulce.
Soft as Fontenelle, the Feathers and the Thread, My Crane Wife
Published August 23, 2007 Guatemala Leave a Comment
Today, still unable to surf, I explored El Paredon. It’s set on a spit in the Pacific Ocean. Although it can be reached overland, almost all traffic is by boat.I asked a boat owner if I could hire him to take me down the canal, to see the cranes that nest in the mangrove swamp. He agreed to take me, as long as I helped him with his fishing first. Now, this seems a little silly to me. This man wants me to sit in his tiny, tippy little boat and throw easily tangled nets overboard, possibly endangering his livelihood? But I agreed. Then he didn’t actually let me do any fishing, thank goodness. He may have been teasing, but it was hard to tell.
Today, when I went to unpack my bag, I realized that I had been robbed! On one of the many bus journeys I took yesterday one of the ayudantes must have opened my pack and pulled out the bundle on top. Their loot: All of my underwear and my swimsuit! While I was annoyed, I also found it rather funny. After all the US Department of State warned me that Guatemala was a treacherous, dangerous place. They just didn’t tell me my underwear would end up in a market somewhere.Undeterred, I set off to surf. But surfing topless presents some unique problems when you fall off your surfboard. Because, as it turns out, I absolutely suck at surfing. I got wailed on over and over again until the wind kicked up and my instructor declared that it was time to go in, lest I drown with my lousy surfing.
Instead I ventured over to the neighboring tortugaria. For a small donation the ranger gave me a bucket of baby turtles to release. I spent the entire afternoon sitting in the sun, racing my baby turtles to the ocean and playing out Finding Nemo dialogue. The Guatemalans must have thought me absolutely insane, but as it turns out pretend sea turtle surfing is almost more fun than real surfing.
Squirt: Good afternoon. We’re gonna have a great jump today. Okay, first crank a hard cutback as you hit the wall. There’s a screaming bottom curve, so watch out. Remember: rip it, roll it, and punch it.
After a couple of false starts I finally set out for Sipcate, on the Pacific Coast, for some surfing. More precisely, I was headed for El Paredon, a small spit along the Pacific Ocean, with an even smaller town and surf camp.The staff of the surf camp was a little sketchy on travel directions. They explained that from Escuintla I should travel west to La Democracia, south through Siquintlá and La Gomera, to Sipcate, then east again, to El Escondite and finally further east to El Paredon
What they failed to mention were the modes of transport, as well as the lengths of the legs. As it turns out, Escuintla to La Democracia was one leg, and La Democracia to Sipcate, was another leg, with a little layover in both of the towns. It took almost four hours to travel a little over forty highway miles. As I arrived in Sipcate, the sun was beginning to set, and I was beginning to worry.
There were no other buses in Sipcate, so the next logical step was to take a tuk-tuk to El Escondite. I hired a driver, and away we went. And went, and went, and went. We drove down a dark and deserted dirt road, with no houses, power lines, or other signs of human habitation. There were just sugar plantations and potholes, as far as the eye could see. After four or five miles, the road abruptly ended, dead ending into the water. I paid my driver, slung my backpack over my shoulder and stepped out of the tuk-tuk to survey my surroundings. Before I could ask anything, in the blink of an eye, the driver accelerated into the black night. I was alone, in the dark, at the end of a deserted dirt road.
After a few moments of carefully reasoned, rational freaking-the-fuck-out, I realized that my driver would not have left me alone in the dark to die, eaten to death by mosquitoes. Boats must pass up and down the channel periodically, even past dark. So I sat down to wait. And wait, and wait, and wait. I’m a very patient person, but after an hour or so, I was beginning to get a little panicky. I was beginning to wonder if swimming down the channel to the Pacific and El Paredon would be preferable to plodding back down the dirt road to Sipacate.
Reporting live from Escuintla, Guatemala, where Hurricane Dean just passed by, we have our foreign correspondent, Ally, reporting live on the scene.
It’s (adverb) (adjective) Scott. Hurricane Dean is one (adjective), (adjective), (noun). In Escuintla, the effects have been (adverb) (adjective). Further north, where I’m traveling over the next two weeks, I expect to see (adjective) (noun) and (adjective) (noun). In the rest of the country, people are (adverb) (adjective). This is Ally, reporting live, in Guatemala.
Thanks Ally, and now back to our regularly scheduled programming:
I’ve been in Escuintla to visit Autosafari Chapin, an animal conservation park and zoo for wealthier Guatemalans. The park is amazing. It has animals from all over the world, endangered and otherwise, separated into different drive-through paddocks. The crazy rainstorms, a residual effect of Hurricane Dean, made the animals shy and Ally wet, but it, combined with the Monday morning, meant that I had the park to myself. It was just my driver and me touring the park.
Moreover, my driver had a very Guatemalan safety ethic. After the first five minutes or so of me saying “a little forward,” “a little back,” and so on and so forth, he inquired, in jest, if I wanted to drive. We set off, with me at the jeep’s wheel, struggling with the stick shift, him screaming instructions in Spanish, the driving rain creating puddles deep enough to drown a small child.
The enclosures were separated by reed fences, each one opening into the next. As we entered the enclosures, my guide would jump out, gesticulating wildly, to get the animals into my photo range. He herded all the zebras over to me, ripped branches off of all the expensive, imported African plants so that I could feed the giraffes and hit the rhinos on the rumps to make them appear more interesting, as well as getting dangerously close to the crocodiles to point them out. In the hippo enclosure some of the animals were in pens. When I inquired why, my guide explained that those animals were aggressive, and had attacked jeeps. Apparently, it did not occur to him that all hippos are aggressive.
I’m sure the animals’ aggressiveness was heightened by the presence of baby hippos. Taking the cues from the Chapins, the Guatemalan zoo animals have been and have been busy getting busy. The zoo encourages breeding by placing the predators upwind, as evidenced by an abundance of baby animals. Needless to say, the juvenile jaguars, lions, giraffes, hippos and monkeys were adorable!
After the dangerous drive around the park, we took a little, leaky, lancha out on the lake adjacent to the park. In the middle of the lake was an island, infested will all sorts of simians. On our arrival, our boat was inundated with monkeys, searching for shelter. One of the little howler monkeys leaned over and put my hood down, exposing my hair just long enough to leave me laughing, soaking and sodden.
(Thanks to Special Correspondent Scott Couric for the weather commentary!)
Unfortunately, most all of the archaeological sites are on privately owned plantations, and preserving the area’s archaeological heritage is not a major priority for the government or the finca owners. Many of the monuments have been moved from their in situ locations to company museums. This limits access to the monuments, which modern day Maya worshippers would otherwise visit. At the sites where the monuments were left in situ alcohol, wax and seeds are ritually offered on a regular basis, staining the tops of the statues, as pictured here. Most of the ancient city has yet to be unearthed, still under sugarcane fields. It was incredibly frustrating to walk over giant mounds of earth, knowing that the knolls were actually buildings. I was tempted to start excavating them myself on the spot.
Because so little has been unearthed there is little information available about the sites. My information was gleaned from my illiterate cab driver, a little kid, Wikipedia and a Lonely Planet guidebook. Talk about academic excellence. My advance apologies to any professors who may be reading this.
As I understand it the area was first occupied as a trading hub by the Pipil peoples. The Pipil currently live in coastal El Salvador. They are related to modern day Mayans and claim Mexican ancestry. The height of their society here, when all the building was done, was the Late-Classic period, from 500CE to 700CE. The Pipil primarily grew cacao, the currency of the day. Their city spanned 10 square kilometers, including dwellings, administrative buildings, obsidian and jade workshops, saunas and a ball court. The Pipil had a far more detailed, ornate and flowery style than the Mayans. For instance they used vines, unfurling out of mouths, to indicate speech. Their figures are slightly more pot-bellied, reminiscent of the Olmec style. However, Mayan influence is apparent in the inclusion of long-count calendar dates. The same animal motifs appear in all the monuments in the area. Jaguars and frogs were most prominent in the Pipil art.
El Baul, pictured here, and El Bilbao are quite a way off the beaten track. I adored this, because it means I was the only tourist in town. However, it also meant that I had to convince local children to guide me to the sites (for Q1, or 15 cents). However, their guide services did not include security, and they insisted that I bring my machete to widen the path and dissuade would-be thieves. You can see how I felt very Raiders of the Lost Ark, no?
On Monday morning I woke up at Don Alberto’s house with something in my eye. Chile? Salt? Volcanic rock? Small animal? I have no idea what it was, but I have never known so much pain! I took out my contact lens, to no comfort. My guide offered to poke his finger into my eye in an attempt to extract the particle, but I declined.
When I awoke, at 5am Xexocom had an awesome surprise for me. The entire town was standing around when I emerged from the school, still sleepy-eyed and shivering in the sub-zero cold. Apparently the mayor was so excited to meet me that he had invited everyone to gather in the town square. The children, and some of the adults absolutely stared at me, and some of the children timidly stepped out to touch me. Other pointed and cried “Osh!” which is apparent Ixil for “White Woman!” I’ve been called gringa more ways than I can count now. And I felt it, as the tallest person in the entire town of fifty people. I was already somewhat sleepy and stunned, standing there like a spectacle, when the school children, all dressed uniform, filed into a line and began to sing the Guatemalan national anthem. Once I recovered from the shock of the serenade, I thanked them profusely, and as a token of my appreciation, gave out pretty much everything in my pack that I didn’t need. Thank goodness I brought plenty of stickers, and band-aids were equally popular when I ran out, but I can’t think of any gift I think would have been appropriate after such an incredible experience.
Eventually we made our way out of the mountains and into the town of San Nicolas, where we were to spend the night. San Nicolas is much less indigenous, more ladino community, so I wasn’t such a spectacle. Our hosts were Don Alberto and his family. They’re sheep farmers, but they also ran the general store, so I sat in the store and talked to just about everyone in town. before turning in early, utterly exhausted from my incredible day.
When I woke in the morning, Nebaj seemed just as exhausted as I was. I found a hearty hiking hangover breakfast of fried bananas, black beans, eggs, queso fresco and tortillas at a comedor and set out to meet my guide.
After the hike from Xela to Lago de Atitlan, I left San Pedro for the pueblo of Nebaj, fifly miles north, in the Ixil Triangle region. From Nebaj, I’m planning to hike the same distance I’d hiked in the days before, plus another twenty miles, across the Cordillera de los Cuchumatanes, the Sierras of Guatemala, back to Todos Santos Cuchumatanes, and then to take a bus back to Xela, completing a big circle.

