First off, an update on my illness. I was wrong before; my last tests came back negative for infection. The doctor was stumped, and prescribed for me antibiotics against ulcer-causing bacteria as a last resort. I started feeling better after starting the antibiotic regimen, but I think I was on the mend anyway, so the jury is still out on what I actually had. Anyway, we ended up staying an extra week in Xela after we finished our language classes, which allowed us some time to actually see Xela. The week ended in excitement, as Xela’s football team was playing in a two-game series for the national championship. We went to a bar with some of our language school friends to watch the first game that was in Xela (the tickets for the game sold out the previous day). Xela lost that game 0-1, but came storming back to win their away game in San Marcos 4-1 to take the national championship. I think it was the first time they had won the championship in several years, so it was quite the big deal.

Since I was feeling better (finally!), we hit the bikes again after a 3-week hiatus. We had planned on easing back into riding, but our first day had WAY more climbing than we had anticipated, and we ended up spending over 7 hours on the bike. It was long and tiring, but our legs made it through and we finished our ride before the rains started, so it could have been worse. We stayed in the town of Solola, which overlooks Lake Atitlan. The next day we bussed down to the lake to visit the town of Panajachel. The lake is surrounded by three volcanoes, and is supposed to be quite beautiful, but we couldn’t see much through the fog and clouds surrounding the lake. The town of Panajachel is pretty small, and seems to consist mostly of restaurants and small stores/stalls where gringos can buy Guatemalan handicrafts. As we were walking along the shore of the lake, we were approached by a woman selling colorfully woven tableclothes who made us an offer we couldn’t refuse We happened to run into our friend Chris from language school in Panajachel, which was a fun surprise.

We spent the next two days riding on to Antigua. The first day the rains came early, unfortunately. We managed to avoid the worst of the rain by pulling off the road and sitting under a tarp at a roadside fruit stand, which gave us a chance to put on warmer clothes. We started off again thinking we had let the worst of the rain pass, but the rain kept getting worse and worse as we rode on. By the time we made it to Tecpan (where we planned on staying the night), we were both soaked and cold and ready for a hot shower. Well, we didn’t get one, but still managed to (mostly) warm up and dry out before we rode the rest of the way to Antigua.

Antigua is another cute colonial town that does a very good job of catering to tourists, and was so similar to San Cristobal in Mexico that Cindy kept forgetting that we were actually in Guatemala Antigua is populated by a lot of language schools, and we considered attending classes here, but decided that Xela might be a better experience as it wasn’t QUITE so overrun with foreigners. After having visited both cities now, I think we made the right decision. However, we did eat the best Asian food that we’ve had so far on our trip in Antigua, so perhaps I shouldn’t be so quick to bite the hand that feeds us. And we took advantage of our last chance in Guatemala to eat at Pollo Campero, a KFC-like chain here that is quite tasty! Before we left, we checked out some of the sights in town. Unfortunately, a lot of the older colonial structures in the town are still in ruins after a devastating earthquake in 1773, so there wasn’t a lot to actually see. On our next to last day in Antigua, we ran into our friend Emily (also from language school), another great surprise. It almost made me break into a chorus of “It’s a small world”…

Since we spent an extra week in Xela, we decided to bus from Antigua to Copan Ruinas in Honduras to make up the time. Unfortunately, because of our bikes and bags, we couldn’t take one of the standard shuttle buses, so we had to hire a private bus. The good news is that we didn’t have to leave at 4AM like the normal shuttle, but the bad news is that it was really expensive. Anyway, it’s on to the next country for us!

It’s a good sign that each of us has left our language school experience wishing we had time for more. Our first week at Proyecto Linguistico Quetzalteco in Xela was great. Although the 5 hours of individual instruction was frustrating and exhausting at times, both of us made lots of progress in our Spanish during this week. This school is particularly well known not just for its Spanish programs, but for their community activism as well. The school puts together talks and activities during the week to give students exposure to the sights and realities of living in Guatemala. The most interesting talk we saw was from a man from Cuba, who talked about his perspective on the Cuban revolution and their project starting a medical school strictly for Central Americans. This project began in the wake of Hurricane Mitch in the late 1990’s, when it became clear that there was a shortage of medical doctors in the region. The medical school in Cuba trains doctors from Central America free of charge; in return, doctors sign a contract to practice medicine for 6 years in rural communities in their home country. To listen to this guy tell the story of post-revolution Cuba, it is a utopian paradise. I realize that this obviously isn’t the case—however, their system of socialism has improved the lives of many (or at least leveled the playing field), and it is difficult to find fault with a philosophy that believes that they have the obligation to provide free schooling to their fellow Latinos out of a sense of solidarity.

One of our trips was to Laguna Chicobal, a lake inside the crater of a volcano outside of Xela. We started out leaving town early (6:15 AM) because morning is the time of best visibility (more on the weather later on). We drove to the base of the volcano and walked the rest of the way up over the lip of the crater, climbing a steep road that more or less went straight up the mountain. Once inside, we were treated to beautiful views of a lake that is used by the Maya here for rituals because it is believed to have mystical powers (personally, I didn’t feel anything, but I’m just like that). Down by the lakeside, there was a group of Maya having a ceremony which presented a bizarre sight—women in traditional Mayan clothing wearing the US flag over their shoulders. Our guide (one of the school’s teachers) told us that sometimes these lakeside rituals are to give blessings to families who are about to send loved ones off to the US in search of work. We enjoyed sitting by the lake for an hour or so, and then within a matter of 10 min, the entire lake became enshrouded by fog. Such is the suddenness of weather changes here, and we left at this point to return to town.

We spent our second week of classes at a school associated with PLQ called the Mountain School, because it is in the mountains about a two-hour bus ride from Xela. It was interesting to be able to attend both schools, because there is definitely a contrast in the experiences. First of all, at PLQ we ate and slept with our host families. At the Mountain School, the families are much poorer (there was a large celebration the day before we got there because one of the communities there had finally gotten running water), and can’t really accomodate students in their homes, so we slept in the school and then made the short walk to our family’s houses at meal time. The meals were much smaller, simpler, and at times difficult to choke down—although the school assured us that all the families had been trained in how to properly prepare food that wouldn’t make us sick. The classes were only 4 hours at the Mountain School, but I’m pretty sure I received 3x the homework I received in Xela. Which was fine, because besides class, there wasn’t much to do out there other than study Spanish. The number of students at the Mountain School was smaller, which made for a more intimate group. The nearest town, Columba, was a 30 min bus ride away. One of the presentations we had there was the story of the origin of Nuevo San Jose, one of the three communities near the school. To make a long story short, Nuevo San Jose was formed by former coffee finca (plantation) workers who, after struggling with their finca owner for back wages over a period of one and a half YEARS, and after finally getting what they were owed, struck out in order to establish a home for themselves in the country. The Catholic Church helped by providing some of the money for the people to buy land and build homes.  This finca incident was the beginning of the end of the “old way” of running a finca, where the workers lived on the land and had a relationship with the owner. Now everyday, trucks come into the nearby towns and pick up workers at the beginning of each day, only hiring the hands they need for that day. Since the early bird gets the worm, buses drive past the school at 4-5 AM, horns blaring, picking up people to drive into town to try to find work for the day. Not everybody gets work everyday, which means that some end the day having earned nothing and having spent money on bus fares in each direction. And in hearing stories from the students and each of their host families, you can tell that times are really tough for the people here—one reason they appreciate the extra income they can get by feeding a student for a week.

One trip we made from the Mountain School was to a nearby community called Santa Anita. This is one of the few success stories from the area. The community was started by a group of ex-guerillas after the signing of the peace accords here. They wanted to return to farming, so they took out a loan, purchased some land, and made a cooperative community. They mostly raise coffee on the finca, but grow bananas and a couple of other things too. The group, as a whole, decided to train themselves as businessmen/women so that they could cut out some of the middlemen from the selling process. They grow organic, shade-grown coffee, and also made the decision to be fair trade certified, which meant that they would not only recieve a higher price for their coffee, but that the price would remain more stable as well. They have a relationship now with a distributor of fair trade coffee, and most of their coffee goes to the US (there is one place in Seattle on their list, but we had never heard of it and have since forgotten the name). They roast and bag beans on-site, and we were able to buy a bag to start our Latin America coffee collection!

Upon returning to Xela last weekend, we decided to take a bus to the famous nearby market in Chichicastenango. Well, it’s not THAT nearby…it was about 3 hrs bus ride in each direction. The bus ride there was fine because we had seats. On the way back we were packed into overcrowded buses where we had to stand almost the entire time (my theory is that the phrase “chicken bus” really means that they pack the people in like chickens). The market was everything it was supposed to be; beautiful woven fabrics and indigenous clothing, various other handicrafts, and tons of gringos We’ve heard complaints here that the gringos are so bad at bargaining that the prices of the indigenous clothing have skyrocketed to the point where locals can barely afford to buy them. So we did our best to drive hard bargains on the few things we bought. The large markets here (and in Mexico) are all very maze-like. It always seems to me that some enterprising person could get rich selling maps of the markets to tourists…

Quick Note I: The weather here is CRAZY! We are just getting into the wet season here. Thankfully the rain is somewhat predictable in timing (late afternoon and evening), but seems to come from nowhere. And it rains harder here than any other place I’ve seen. Although everybody here has aluminum roofing, which makes a god-awful noise during the rain—this may be why it seems like it rains so hard here… Anyway, we’re going to have to go back to getting up at dawn and getting as far as we can before the rain starts so we don’t have to deal with wet and dangerous roads.

Quick Note II: After taking anti-amoeba medicine for a week, my abdominal troubles still aren’t better. Went back to the doctor today, and had another lab exam, this time including a urine sample. If I’m reading the test correctly, I have some kind of urinary infection. I’m hoping the doctor concurs tomorrow and that some antibiotics can clear it up fast. The pain and discomfort are enough that we decided to delay leaving Xela for a few days, which will put us behind schedule a bit. Hopefully once I’m feeling better, we can make up the time without too many problems.

We’ve had quite a ride on the way from San Cristobal, Mexico to Xela, Guatemala. The first day out was great. It’s always nice to be on the bikes again after a hiatus. We did pretty well—we were hot and tired afterwards, but not in pain. The second day was pretty nice, too. That is until we were about 5 km away from our destination at the border town, Ciudad Cuauhtemoc. All of a sudden there were tons of cars backed up and none of them were moving at all. As we biked past them, I noticed several trucks that had passed us much earlier in the day. Our first real road block*. When we got close enough to see the road filled with people in the distance, we stopped to ask some policemen what was going on. They told us that the country people were blocking the road in protest, but they were only blocking cars, and we should be able to go through with out a problem. Feeling reassured that we weren’t biking into a hostile situation, we forged ahead. As we reached the mass of people completely filling the road, we were pointed to a small path through the ditch on the side of the road. Around the people we went and were riding again in a couple minutes. We stopped to buy some pineapple and watermelon from one of the vendors catering to the crowd. Here we found out that the road block was to protest corn prices. The rest of the ride into town was uneventful and traffic free. When we arrived at the hotel in town we were greeted by a Dutch tour group who had walked to the hotel/restaurant leaving their bus behind the roadblock. They had passed us on the road earlier in the day and were happy that we made it safely to our destination.

The border crossing was uneventful and bribe-free. We got our passports stamped for 90 days in the country, changed most of our pesos into quetzals and were off. For the first 10-20 km there were many people on or near the road. They all seemed to want to test out their english—shouting “hello, bye-bye, hello, bye-bye” with the occasional “hey guys” or “good luck” thrown in. Later, we discovered that all little boys under the age of about 10 like to shout “gringos!” then run to the road to watch us pass and yell “bye-bye” or run alongside the bikes for a while.

The ride away from the border was almost entirely uphill, so we decided not to push our luck with the knees and stopped in a small town called Colotenango, where we spotted a hotel by the road. We had a nice chat with the hotel owner, who assured us that we would be very safe in Guatemala as long as we don’t ride at night.

Matt awoke the next morning with a bit of an upset stomach. We didn’t have much of a choice but to keep riding so that we could make it to the larger city of Huehuetenango, where we could find a cash machine to replenish our small amount of quetzals. After about 10 km, or 45 minutes of uphill riding, Matt was feeling light-headed and needed a bit of rest in the shade. We pulled off of the road just past a bus stop and some men moving a pile of rocks. The rest didn’t really help and after attracting a bit of a crowd who were watching us from a distance, Matt threw up all the liquid he had had that morning. If any of you know Matt very well, you will know that he faints very easily when he is sick or in pain. He can’t even listen to verbal descriptions of injuries without feeling faint. So, after throwing up, he passed out just long enough to freak me out. I was just about to start figuring out the Spanish for “throw some cold water on him” when he came to. Then vomited up all the solid food he had eaten. The crowd watched until he got up and started walking around again.

Feeling much better after throwing up, Matt decided he could try riding again. We only had about 35 km to go that day and not much money, so we made the attempt. We quickly came upon another problem though. Having thrown up all his food, Matt had no energy. And he wasn’t feeling well enough to eat anything. So, we gave up on riding to Xela and bussed the rest of the way to Huehue, had a day of recovery there, then bussed on to Xela today.

Guatemala on the whole is a bit more chaotic than Mexico. This is especially true of the buses. The most common type of buses are referred to (by tourists) as “chicken buses” because they take pretty much anything, including live chickens, as cargo. I had read much about these old US school buses in our guidebooks etc, but I still was not quite prepared for the experience. First of all, they aren’t just old US school buses, but techicolor school buses, some of which have what looks like the hood of a semi-truck. The bus stations are really just tiny parking lots crammed full of buses. There are no tickets to buy, you just find the guy yelling out your destination, then get on the bus he points you toward. Once inside the bus, there is even more chaos. As we were waiting to leave the aisles were full of vendors selling newspapers, sodas, candy, popsicles and jello. On the 2 hour ride from Huehue to Xela, the entire bus was sitting at least three across, more if there were children in the seat, hanging on for dear life every time the bus tested the laws of physics on the curves of the narrow, winding mountain road. I was disappointed that neither of our “chicken bus” experiences involved any actual chickens—the closest we came was a bunch of eggs.

Despite doubts at times, we have made it safely (Matt is still a bit sick, though mostly able to eat again) to Xela and successfully met up with our host family. They have so far been very welcoming and fun. We have a date with the little girl to do some painting after we return from our first day of classes and orientation.

* We had previously encountered people holding up traffic to collect money for various projects. Two of them were very mild, held by school groups collecting money for their schools asking for money but not holding people up if they didn’t contribute. On the van ride back from visiting the runas of Yaxchilan and Bonampak, we encountered a fairly rowdy road block with probably around 20-30 men not allowing anyone to pass until they had made a donation to fund the building of a house in their community. Our driver, probably accustomed to dealing with this sort of thing, handled the situation very well and managed to get us past with a donation of only around 50 cents per person ($5 total) in the van, though it took some calm negotiating on his part.

Bringing Up Bobby the movie