Honduras to Nicaragua

Nicaragua!

Once again, it has been a while since I wrote to keep you all updated.  Last you heard, I was leaving Utila, Honduras, for Nicaragua.  Because of bus schedules and ferry schedules, I knew it would be a two-day adventure.  I don't know that I was prepared for how exhausting it would all be.

The trip from Utila, Honduras, to Managua, Nicaragua, took two full days.  There's not much to describe, as the trip was just long and rather uninspired.  A group of us (two people from my dive class and another guy we met on Utila) decided to take the 2:00 p.m. ferry off of Utila for the mainland.  The ride from Utila is generally a bumpy ride; this time was no different, although I am thankful we were on a larger ferry than the one we took to get to Utila!  The ferry dropped us off at the port and we took a cab to the bus station in La Ceiba.  We caught an afternoon bus that got us to San Pedro Sula, Honduras, around 9 p.m. (if memory serves me right).  Heather, the other girl I was traveling with, found a great hostel that agreed to pick us up from the bus terminal and drive us back for our next bus in the morning.  That was a HUGE find because the taxis would've cost us about L300 ($15) each way.  The next morning, we got a ride to the bus terminal at 3:45 a.m.  Our bus wasn't scheduled to leave until 5 a.m., but we needed to make sure we got in line for the tickets.  Once on the bus, we all finished our night's rest until the bus stopped for a break in Tegucigalpa, Honduras (about 4 hours from our starting point).  After some really crappy food in the bus station (if you could even really call it that), we boarded the bus again, bound for Nicaragua.

I haven't had any really exciting border crossings (and I pray that I never do), but this one seemed strange.  We all got off the bus in Nicaragua, unloaded our bags, took them to a kiosk where guards searched our bags in a really haphazard and noncommittal fashion.  We stood around for at least a half hour while the guards pulled one girl aside, took her to the back and only Lord knows what they detained her for.  My guess is that she had overstayed her visa, but maybe it was just a random, more detailed search than the rest of us.  The group of us traveling together discovered that one of the guy's wallets was missing, and we're pretty sure he got pick-pocketed by the kids claiming to offer to help with our bags at the border.

Back on the bus...hours later inside the Nicaraguan border, we got stopped by the Nicaraguan drug police.  Mind you, we'd already been traveling since 5 a.m. and it was now about 6 p.m.  First they selected a few passengers to randomly check.  They were taken off the bus and searched.  Next the police began removing paneling and other "hidden compartments" inside the bus.  Then the dogs came and searched the storage holds and everything outside the bus (the dogs didn't board the bus itself that we saw).  Next we were told that we were waiting for another bus to arrive so that we could switch buses...because the cops were confiscating our original bus.  We switched buses at least 2 hours after we were supposed to have arrived in Managua.  Sixteen hours after we set off from San Pedro Sula, we arrived in Managua.  We chose the hostel right around the corner from the bus station, dropped our bags and went in search of food.  Wow!  Turns out we were only a block from one of Lonely Planet's recommended eateries, Comidas Sara!  That was an awesome meal for a great price after a long day of traveling!

The next morning, my two diving buddies headed toward Grenada.  Our other companion decided he was headed to San Pedro Sula.  I made the decision to go with him to San Pedro Sula, rather than staying in Managua (as was my original plan), so that I wouldn't have to make the trek alone.

The bus to San Pedro Sula is a chicken bus.  That was gonna be my first time on one of these (earlier in my trip I had thought that my next transport would be a chicken bus, but it turned out to be a small collectivo -- minivan -- instead).  I can honestly say that the chicken buses might be better than the collectivo vans.  The collectivo vans are minivans that are rigged to properly seat about 14 people.  Problem is that they frequently have many more than 14 passengers.  I was on a collectivo at one point with 20 adults and about 8 children.  Nope...not kidding.  What's worse is that the passengers have the ability to close the stinking windows!  The people down here may be used to the heat, but this gringo needs the wind from rolled down windows!  I digress.

I arrived in San Juan del Sur around 6 p.m.  It was already dark, but I could see that the small town was still alive, which is not common in a region in which most people rise and sleep with the sun.  The streets...and there were few...ranged from cobblestones to pavement to dirt.  The buildings still have a bit of the Spanish colonial feel to them, but far less so than places like Antigua.  The town definitely is a beach town, with restaurants lining the sand and the occasional band or bar pumping out tunes.  There are hostels and hotels in town, as well as some scattered along the coastline.  At least two hostels are a shuttle ride from town, but the hostels are good about regularly scheduled shuttle services.  There are food shacks, restaurants, carts, and other mom-and-pop places to eat, ranging from about C40 to C300 ($1.80 or so to $13-14).  Whatever you choose, chances are that you'll get a decent, but not outstanding, meal.

I chose the hostel Casa Oro as my temporary home and explored the town.  The vibe is young, but not too young.  I soon realized that there a large number of the tourists were there to just party; the other small percentage of people are there to surf and relax.  Oh, and if you want to meet people, this is certainly a good place to do it!  I met some great people in San Juan del Sur!  First there was this guy staying in my hostel, who introduced me to a big group of people staying at another hostel, who eventually became traveling companions to Ometepe.  We went to the top of the hill to watch the sunset together.  Great time!

I spent four nights in San Juan and that was enough.  I was over the party scene pretty quickly...I may be young at heart, but something must've happened to change my perspective because girls dancing on the tables really wasn't my thing.  Several beautiful sunsets, a couple nights out, some fun in the sun & sand, and I was ready to go.

I traveled to Ometepe with the guy from my hostel with two others scheduled to meet us later that day.  They brought another girl with them, and the five of us hung out for the next several days on Ometepe.  Ometepe is an island in Lake Nicaragua formed by two volcanos (Volcano Conception and Volcano Maderas) with an isthmus of land between them that forms the lowest point of the island.  That's about all I knew of the island before heading there. I didn't know what to expect (as is most often the case of these new places I'm visiting) other than some jungles and hiking.  The guide book said there were hikes, waterfalls, beaches, wildlife, and lots of relaxation.

The ferry ride to Ometepe took an hour.  Another bus to a city on the island recommended by the guy from my hostel took two hours.  The bus was at times standing room only, and other times rather comfortable.  A group of school children got on the bus about halfway into the trip...I swear they all bathed at school because the bus was suddenly filled with the pleasant aroma of soap and flowers.  Weird.  Anyway, we had no idea where to get off the bus and had to rely upon the help of the locals to make sure we got off at the right stop in Balgue.  We were dropped in the middle of the road with few buildings nearby, but a sign pointed to Finca Magdelena 1 km down a dirt road.

Finca Magdelena, our first hostel, was amazing.  One kilometer up a dirt/rock road hardly seemed worth the walk at first, but the view was spectacular with Lake Nicaragua and the other volcano in not-to-far distance.  When we got there and unloaded our packs, it was easy to see why this place was recommended for relaxation and nature.  It sat near the base of Volcano Maderas and was surrounded by beautiful flowers, trees and shrubs.  Finca Magdelena is a co-op of coffee growers and we could see many people working nearby.  There were birds everywhere, most of which I'd never seen before.  We could hear the howler monkeys and other monkeys playing in the trees surrounding Finca.  The air smelled like a combination of flowers and mud, if that's possible.  Closer to the lake, I discovered later, the air began to carry a slight sent of fish.

We relaxed for a few days at Finca and explored their grounds a little.  There are so many flowers that it's impossible to know what they all are or to describe them to you.  Suffice it to say that they were beautiful and I tried to smell every single one.  Also, they have these incredible almond trees that grow up and then flatten out in a wide spread of leaves.  Spaced correctly, the could form a perfect cover from the rain, which is precisely what they did at Finca.

I celebrated Thanksgiving on Ometepe with my new friends.  We hiked Volcano Maderas -- not an easy hike by an stretch of the imagination -- for over four hours and finally decided that we were too hungry to go further and broke for "lunch" at 2 p.m.  I gave thanks on that mountain for all the wonderful things in my life, the new opportunities spread out before me, the grace of God, the new friends I've made on this trip, the love of my family and this crazy adventure I'm on.  We made it back down the mountain just before sunset.  Whew!  And then, an ice cold shower (by the way, I have had very few warm or hot showers on this trip...my last one was on Utila and before that, El Remate...I think I've had only about 3-4 hot showers since leaving Mexico in October).

After Finca, we took a bus to Santo Domingo, a city on Ometepe on the isthmus with a beach of sorts.  We stayed at Hospedaje Buena Vista upon the recommendation of Lonely Planet and a local restaurant owner from Australia.  Good choice.  The wind and flies were plentiful and somewhat bothersome, but it was nice to hear the waves lapping  against the shore.  We went on a few walks from Santo Domingo, but nothing really revolutionary.  Four of us rented bikes for a day, but the dirt and rocky roads deterred me because the bikes were far from the best bikes I've ever seen.  The gears didn't work, the brakes barely worked, the tires lost air, and we didn't get helmets.  So, I stuck to the paved roads and my adventurous streak lasted only as long as those roads.  Last thing I want to do is get all banged up on an island with the closest medical care an hour bus ride away.  Two of the guys were willing to take the risks and said it was worth it to see the other side of the island where there was no wind and calm shores.  Oh well.  I may not have seen that, but every day I am seeing something new so I can't really complain.

After Ometepe, three of the people in our group were headed to Grenada and two of us headed to the surf town of Popoyo.  Popoyo is a small surfing village on the Pacific coast of Nicaragua.  We took a cab from Rivas (where the Ometepe ferry deposited us) because we were told that the bus would only get us close to Popoyo and we would have to walk another 10 kilometers to get to Popoyo.  I didn't care about the cab fare; I'd rather not have carried my pack for 10 kilometers!  Anyway, $25 later we were dropped off in front of a beachside hostel.  After wandering around, we decided on one of the hostels.  I came to Popoyo because I just wanted some time to write and relax, without much to do to distract me and without tons of people to disturb my writing.  Well...quiet I found.  Ahhhhhh.  Popoyo is essentially nothing but beach.  It has a few hostels and hotels that line the shore, a surf shop, a couple restaurants, a small tienda, and a bunch of surfers.  I haven't seen many girls here and I swear I'm one of maybe three female tourists here.   That's about it.  Perfect.  My friends (one I came here with, several I met here) here are complaining about the waves not being very good for surfing, which is why they all came, but it's really no matter to me!  I like the smell of the salt air, the slight breeze (although at times it can be very windy), the sun, the quiet and the atmosphere of relaxation.

After a couple days though, I've had enough and I'm ready to set off again.  Problem is, I'm sort of stuck here because there are no ATMs anywhere and I had to borrow some money from my friend.  I can't just go "into to town" to get to an ATM -- that's an hour's drive and at least $25 in cab fare, each way.  So, I can't pay him back until we're both ready to leave.  He's not ready to leave.  And to top it off, it's become awkward because I'm the only native English speaker and I'm the only non-surfer.  Well at least this silence and awkwardness has given me plenty of time to write.  More importantly, I'm ready to do some more voluteer work!  Must get ot Costa Rica soon!

Utila, Honduras

After a night in San Pedro Sula, securely locked in my hostel, I hopped a bus with another traveler heading in the same direction: La Ceiba.  La Ceiba is a coastal town on the Caribbean, with ferries to the Bay Islands.  We arrived in La Ceiba about 2 p.m., found a hostel and settled down for a bit.  There were some other travelers staying at the same hostel, and apparently all of us were headed to the islands.  Whew!  Gotta say, I love meeting other travelers headed in the same direction!  It sure makes getting around feel safer and more secure.  A group of four of us took the 9:30 "ferry"

Utila island in Honduras is part of the Bay Islands.  It's the smallest of the three main islands.  It's supposedly less touristy and less expensive than Roatan island, but I can't confirm that because I'm not going to Roatan.  Reports also say it has less to do if you're not diving (less beach space and less non-diving activities).  Oh well.  Everyone said I HAD to get to the Bay Islands and do some diving, so here I am!

I arrived on Utila after a ferry boat ride from La Ceiba (just about the only way to get here for a reasonable price).  Still, the "ferry" ride was L472, which is about $24 (one way).  I put "ferry" in quotes because it is not the type of boat you think of when you imagine a ferry boat.  Rather, it is a small boat that seats probably about 50 people or so and it is a ROUGH ride.  It's nicknamed The Vomit Comet for a reason.  If you get seasick, you will probably want some Dramamine. Then again, they keep the darn boat at a "comfortable" (ha!) 18 degrees Celsius (64 degrees) to help with the seasickness.  I wasn't prepared for the chill!!  Outside it was about 80 degrees and that boat felt cold!

I was grateful when we landed -- not because I was sick, but because I was so friggin' cold!  Even the light drizzle outside felt better than the boat.  We arrived at about 10 a.m. and were practically accosted by all the dive shops and hostels hoping to lure us their way.  Fortunately, two of my travel mates had made reservations and there were signs with their names on them, so we were whisked away to the dive shop and hotel with a minimum of fuss.

On Utila, there is a dive shop about every 20 yards; they are all roughly the same price for the same service so choosing one is really a matter of the feeling you get from each place.  Every guidebook, blog and "scholar" suggests that you check out several shops before deciding on one.  However, I learned a long time ago to follow my gut: if I get a good vibe, even if it's the first place I go, I will select that place provided that they are price competitive.

Captain Morgan's Dive Centre is highly rated and listed in Lonely Planet's guide to Central America, which automatically gives me a sense of ease in selecting the right place.  Besides, one of the guys I was traveling with had already used Captain Morgan's for his PADI certification course and was coming back for his advanced course.  So Captain Morgan's gets a double nod.  The staff are all very nice and they obviously love diving.  We checked out the accommodations at Pirate's Bay Inn (the one connected with Captain Morgan's) and were very satisfied.  The place is practically brand new, the beds are super comfortable and there's hot water!  The place feels more like a hotel than a hostel.  Fresh towels and soap!  These are the things that excite me nowadays.  LOL.  In the end, the welcome we received, the awesome staff, and the price made it easy to get the warm fuzzies about the place.  Captain Morgan's it was!

The first day we arrived, we got our study materials and began reviewing videos.  A couple hours later and we were finished with the first day's studies. Our instructor, Max, met us later that afternoon to distribute our gear, which we set aside for our first dive the next day.  The next morning we got started in the water.

Day two began promptly at 6:50 a.m.  We went over some dive basics and how to operate our gear.  After one dive that included the necessary basics, we went to another spot and had a short, relatively shallow dive (about 11 meters, or roughly 36 feet).  The reef is alive!  OK, so I've been diving once...in the Bahamas in December 1994, and I thought that was cool.  But man oh man!  That place can't touch this place!  I wish I had pictures under water for all of you, but I'd need more than just your average underwater camera for those depths.  I might talk to the shop about renting an underwater camera though.  We shall see.

After the morning's dives, lunch was in order.  Baleadas...mmmmmmm.  A baleada is this plate-sized tortilla, folded over once, filled with your favorite filling and seared.  O.M.G.  They are scrumptious!  Better yet, one baleada will leave you feeling full for only L30 ($1.50).  Holy sch-nikes!  That's a good deal!

Utila island isn't very big, but it sure packs a lot of punch!  There are tons of great restaurants and roadside food carts to choose from.  Food carts and small eateries cost a meager L20-L40 for lunch; restaurants carry everything from appetizers to steak to fresh seafood and, of course, charge much more.  Even so, dinner in a restaurant will probably be less than L200 ($10 USD), including a beverage!  The island has two churches (that I've seen) on the main road and a small cinema.  There's a bank, at least two ATMs, many shops selling local ware, several grocery stores, a hardware store and several other shops...oh, and a tattoo shop.  :)

Day three allowed us a slightly later start: 7:00 a.m.  This morning stuff isn't so bad once you're used to it!  Our second day of diving, we practiced some more dive skills and went on another reef dive.  I think we went about 12-13 meters on the second dive (40-43 feet).  We saw a sea cucumber, which was cool but sort of creepy for one of my diving mates.  We also saw a Southern Stargazer, which is apparently quite rare so I'm pretty excited about that!  Actually, I saw two!  I tried to point out the second one to my instructor, but I guess that will be one of those fish tales.  So far, the Parrot Fish is my favorite one and I'm seriously considering it for the next piece of art on my body!

More baleadas for lunch (aka the tourist wopper).  A beautiful sunset over the water.  A delicious dinner at Munchies.  Day three over.  Well, almost.  As I sat outside working on my blog, I had the distinct pleasure of hearing extremely loud, somewhat harmonious karaoke from the bar next door.  I suppose that Friday on Utila gets a little raucous.  They sounded like tourists though; I'm not sure what all the locals were doing.  I, for one, did not join in.  It's not good to get smashed, stay out late and then go for an early dive.  Day four (third day of diving) would start bright and early at 7:10 a.m.!

Day four on Utila and third dive day brought rainy skies, a slight breeze and choppy waters, but that didn't stop us from diving!  We headed out to sea around 7:15 a.m.  We had a fun dive to about 13-14 meters (45-48 feet) and saw loads of fish we hadn't seen on other dives.  We finished up with some final lessons on our second dive of the day, completing our diving class!  Yay!  In the afternoon, we got our logbooks and our certificate of completion.  So cool!  The last day of diving would be the next day, with just two "fun dives," which are optional but included in the price of the dive course.  I'm wondering if anyone actually skips the free, fun dives.  They'd have to be either fed up with diving or idiots!

Honduras is in the middle of elections.  As much as I relished getting away from the American elections and all that hype, it seems I didn't get that far away from it.  On the second and third days on Utila, there were caravans of tuk-tuks, quads and motorcycles parading down the street for the red party (whatever that is).  The blue party, not to be outdone, decided to do similar parades several times on the fourth day on the island.  Ugh.  What's worse is that they blare music and horns and rhetoric as they go by.  I had to plug my ears on several occasions.  All I know is that I want to be out of Honduras before Election Day!

The big decision after completing the dive course was whether to do the free, fun dives the next day or take a day off and go the day after.  My group (three of us) decided to take a day off and do the fun dives a day after we completed the course.

The next day started off absolutely beautiful.  The sun was out for the first time since I arrived on Utila (remember, it's rainy season here).  I quickly donned my swim suit and set out for the beach in front of our hostel.  Sadly, after just about 15 minutes, the sprinkles started.  Undaunted, I toughed it out for a little while, until the drops became more of a nuisance.  Sigh.  Back into "real clothes" and off to find something to do.  I found a place showing American football, which was a huge treat, and I promptly plopped down in a seat to have my own personal Sunday Funday.  My Falcons may have lost, but I got to watch the game!  On the big screen.  With at least six Saints fans and one other Falcons fan.  It was a good Sunday...at least until I got some bad news from back home that a friend of mine had passed away.  Well crap.  It's times like that when it's easy to miss home and the connections there.  The road can be lonely at times.  I'm meeting lots of new people and making friends, but it's not the same as being able to get a big bear hug from my brother.

The next morning I awoke somewhat melancholy.  I wasn't even excited to go diving.  Truth is, I thought about skipping it, but realized that I would just be wallowing and my friend wouldn't want me to do that.  So, off I went for two "fun dives."  I don't know if it was pure good luck or because we pushed our dive day back a day, but the two fun dives that we did on Monday were FANTASTIC!  We went to the north side of the island, which typically has rougher waters but less-explored dive sites.  The boat ride was about 45 minutes to the first dive site...I assume that the long boat ride (aka lots more gas) is the real reason that not all the dive shops head to the north side.  It was our first sunny day of diving and we were sitting on the front top of the boat, feeling the wind in our faces and the steady rise and fall of the boat as it ascended and descended with the large swells.  There is a level of peace when sitting on the top of the boat staring out over the endless sea.  It's easy to feel like you are alone with God and the ocean.

The first dive site of the day was at a spot called Turtle Bay.  With a name like that, we were bound to see turtles, right?  Well, we did.  Almost immediately after entering the water, we came upon a large sea turtle that seemed to want to swim with us.  He or she kept up with us for about 5 minutes before venturing off elsewhere.  So cool.  I hadn't seen one since 2006 off the coast of Maui, so it was great to see one again.  Throughout our two dives, we saw fish we hadn't seen before, a large nurse shark, a moray eel, HUGE lobsters, a lion fish and an angel fish that tried to eat our bubbles.  About halfway through the second dive, I looked under me and back a little bit only to discover that a moray eel was hot on my tail and chasing me.  WTF?!  Yep, you guessed it...I panicked.  Who wouldn't, especially if your instructor just got done telling you a story of how another diver got his finger bitten off by a moray eel.  Ack!  I raced to my instructor, who had somehow gotten to be about 20 yards away from me, tapped her on the shoulder with a look of fear through my goggles and gave the sign for danger.  She squared off with the monster (and later told me that she thought it was going to bite her fin) until it went away.  Well, we had a good laugh about it all at the end of the dive, but my instructor understood why I was panicked.  LOL.  I swear...only me.

I shared my dive stories with some local expats later that night.  I was somewhat relieved to hear them say that they, too, would've freaked out a little if a moray was chasing them.  I was also delighted when my roomies confirmed that the size of the darn thing wasn't just in my imagination.  I thought about going fishing while I was on the island, but decided against it to save money.  I also thought about going to Water Cay (one of the smaller islands nearby) for a day of sun and fun with the locals, but decided against that too.  Instead, my last day on the island was a day of relaxation, sleep and writing.  It was nice to just chill for a bit.

Tomorrow (Wednesday), after a week on Utila, I leave for Honduras.  I met another traveler heading the same way, so at least I won't have to go it alone.  I must say, that's a huge relief because Honduras is not exactly the safest place (Utila is pretty safe, but the mainland isn't).  Two is always better than one.  We still haven't decided whether to head back through San Pedro Sula or through Tegucigalpa.  Guess we'll figure it out tomorrow!

Arrival in Honduras!

Well, I arrived in Honduras today without any problems.  I took a boat from Livingston to Puerto Barrios (Q35), which dropped my off at the dock.  I walked about a quarter of a mile or so into the town and asked around for the collectivo to Honduras.  A few inquiries later and I found the right one.  I hopped on a collectivo bound for Honduras (they said) and I just had to trust that it was the right one.  Gasp!  Another Q25.  We stopped at a Guatemalan immigration office to get my exit stamp.  The conductor (I'm not sure that's what they're called, but that's what I'll call the guy) asked for my passport, got off the collectivo, and came back with a stamp.  Done!  Easy as pie.  Oh, and I changed my quetzales for lempiras.  The collectivo continued on to the Honduran border; 20 minutes later I was standing in front of a window filling out the necessary form to enter Honduras.  L60 entry fee isn't too bad.  That works out to about $3 USD.  There happened to be a direct bus -- a nice bus with air conditioning and comfy seats -- headed to San Pedro Sula.  I hopped on that bus for L200 (about $10) and was deposited in a large bus station.

I was going to continue on to La Ceiba, but it was just about 4:00 p.m. when we stopped and I know better than to travel at night by myself.  So, I decided to stay in San Pedro for the night and head to La Ceiba tomorrow.  Fortunately I had scoped out a place to stay in my Lonely Planet travel guide and was able to point it out to the cabbie.  Another L300 (about $15) and voila!  Safely tucked in at the hostel with free WiFi!

Now, the hard stuff.  I'm struggling with how much time to spend in Honduras, how much volunteering to do (if any), and how many hours of Spanish lessons I should take (if any).  I honestly thought I would be in Nicaragua by now, if not into Costa Rica.  This whole journey is taking longer than I expected...rather, I'm spending longer in each place than I expected.  I suppose that's a good thing, because I'm getting to experience more of the culture and have more opportunities to see and do things than I would if I just jumped from one site to the next.  But when I try to find the right "fit" for volunteering, it's never an easy choice.  This really great orphanage outside La Ceiba typically only accepts volunteers for 6 weeks.  Shoot!  I was hoping for something shorter.  There are other opportunities, but what to choose?  I need a sign.  Ha!  How often have we all said that?

Well, I'm settled in for the night.  Tomorrow, we shall see what La Ceiba and the island of Utila bring!

San Marcos, Tikal, Rio Dulce & Livingston

Where to begin?  It's been about 10 days since I sat down to write to you all and a lot has happened.  I've seen some amazing places and done some pretty amazing things!  Now, hopefully this blog can capture even a fraction of the beauty and intrigue I've had.

I fell in love with San Marcos on Lago de Atitlán, Guatemala.  There is an indescribable beauty in the countryside and villages surrounding Lago de Atitlán (Lake Atitlán).  Lake Atitlán is one of the largest caldera in the world (top 20, I think) and it is surrounded by the remaining volcanos.  The volcanos rise directly from the water's edge and rise to impressive, monstrous peaks.  Honestly, I almost skipped Lake Atitlán because having grown up in the Pacific NW surrounded by lakes and mountains, I kinda figured "you've seen one lake with a huge mountain in the background, you've seen them all."  Well, not so.  I've never been anywhere like Lake Atitlán.  The lake water is, in most places, blue and clear.  The tiny villages that dot the banks of the lake seem to each have a different way about them than the next.  Panajachel is a known tourist spot.  San Pedro comes in second on the tourist radar.  San Marcos is known for its tranquility and meditation centers.  Santiago Atitlán is generally considered to be the least touristy, but also the most dangerous.  Santa Cruz is supposedly the quietest of the villages, but I can't speak from experience because the most I saw of Santa Cruz was the dock.

As you know, I settled into San Marcos.  I love San Marcos!  One day, I will go back.  It has one major street, but most of the town is connected by narrow walkways lined with buildings, stone walls, beautifully arching flowers and plants...and dogs.

There were stray dogs and family dogs roaming the walkways and streets of San Marcos; they each have their "territory" and guard it somewhat fiercely.  I ended up staying in the Hostel y Restaurante San Marcos.  The place was great!  I had a private room, shared bathroom and breakfast for Q50!  That works out to about $6.50 USD a night!  Better yet, the hostel is fairly centrally located and connected to an Italian pizza restaurant.

It is also connected to Restaurante Fé and it's upstairs open-air café, which offers free WiFi to its customers.  There is young American couple (Kyle and Kaely) who run the café.  They were traveling down Central America and loved San Marcos so much that they accepted the job of running the café.  They are full of information and very helpful.  We quickly became friends and spent quite a bit of time together.

I spent a couple afternoons in San Pedro (although I spent my nights in San Marcos), which is a short boat ride from San Marcos.  The boats are the same type as the one I took originally from Pana to San Marcos.  They should hold about 16 people or so, plus the captain and his mate, but you never know if you will be on a boat with 6 people or 30.  They are like mini ferries; the boat to San Pedro from San Marcos is Q10 (about $1.25).  San Pedro is definitely geared towards tourists when you get off the boat.  In fact, it SCREAMS tourist trap!  (I will, however, say that Pana is worse...more on that later).  Restaurants, tiendas and bars are jammed together along the main street leading away from the dock.  There are tuk-tuks everywhere that will take you anywhere in the city for about Q5, which certainly makes the steep climb up from the dock worth it if the day happens to be blistering hot or raining.  Many of the tiendas sell clearly factory-made goods.  I discovered that if you want something handmade, you're better off finding a street vendor who sets up his wares on a table in front of the regular shops.

One of the afternoons with Kyle and Kaely, we ventured to San Pedro for some essentials and to get Kaely a new pair of hand-made shoes.  They guy who makes them is named Pedro.  He stands about 4'9" and always has a smile on his face.  You can go to him, have him draw the shape of your feet on a piece of newspaper, and get a custom pair of leather shoes in two days...all for about Q300 (about $40).  I understand that Kaely loves her new shoes.  :)

Near San Marcos, a short walk/hike along the edge of the lake, is a place of natural beauty.  It's a protected area and you pay Q15 to enter.  There's a dock (which they call a trampoline...don't ask me why) from which you can jump about 25 feet into the lake.  I chickened out.  Being afraid of heights isn't very fun in those situations.  Oh well, it was still beautiful and Kaely and I were able to catch some decent rays.

On the Saturday before last (about a week ago), Kyle, Kaely and I went to Pana for the night.  The trip was to celebrate Kaely's birthday of the week before, which she didn't get to celebrate since she was working.  First a stop in San Pedro, then on to Pana.  The trip to Pana was fairly uneventful, but we did meet some travelers from San Francisco.  It was nice to hear about their adventures.  But who cares about that, really, when you're surrounded by huge volcanos, a vast, clear lake and a wonderfully fascinating new culture?  I spent the majority of that boat ride staring out over the water and thanking God for bringing me to Lake Atitlán.

I spent most nights in San Marcos just chatting with other travelers or Kyle and Kaely.  For some reason, I didn't find it in me to spend a lot of time writing.  I don't know if it's because the place was TOO peaceful or if I just didn't have anything to write about or if I just needed a break.  Whatever the reason, I regret not having written contemporaneously with my time there.

Paul, the proprietor of Restaurante Fé and the hostel helped me make arrangements for my departure from San Marcos.  As much as I didn't want to leave, it was time. I'd spent 5 nights in San Marcos (well, one of those was in Pana) and it was time to move on to see other things.  I was supposed to catch a shuttle from San Marcos to Tikal (look at a map...they are quite far apart).  It was supposed to leave at 8:30 a.m. and I understood that I was to arrive at midnight.  Ugh.  Long day of traveling, right?  Nope.  Not A long day; more like two.  The shuttle didn't arrive until almost 9:15 a.m. (dammit, I would've had time for that breakfast after all!).  The shuttle took me to Antigua and I arrived there at about 1:00 p.m.  Fortunately I love Antigua, because my "layover" was 5.5 hours.  At 6:30 p.m., I hopped another shuttle to Guatemala City.  My driver dropped me off at a bus terminal teeming with locals and travelers.  I had another two-hour wait for my bus to Tikal.  Awesome.  I couldn't leave the terminal because it was dark (and therefore not safe), so I found a place to rest my pack and chill for a bit.  The bus to Tikal was NICE!  It was one of those overnight buses with a bathroom and comfy seats (thank God).  I quickly fell asleep and let the countryside roll by without any attention.  I arrived in Flores, Guatemala, at just about 6:00 a.m.  There I was, half awake and groggy from not-so-restful sleep, standing in the middle of a turn-out with my bus, several shuttle vans and people screaming, "come this way!  I'll get you right to your hotel!"  I think they time the bus arrival that way specifically to take advantage of stunned, half-awake travelers!  Fortunately, I was going to El Ramate (a village close to Tikal and bout 45 minutes from Flores) and so was another couple, so we all hopped on the same shuttle.  I arrived at my new hostel around 8 a.m.  Ugh.  What an exhausting trip!  I'll tell ya, though: it was worth every penny and every minute!  Tikal is amazing (more on that in a minute).

After some food, a nap and some chill out time, I was ready to explore.  So, the next morning, I hopped onto another shuttle van for the trip to Tikal.  The ride was only abut 15 minutes to the park's entrance and we watched one of the most beautiful sunrises I have ever seen.  After buying my ticket ($20), we rode another 15 minutes into the heart of the park.  Tikal is now an internationally protected site (I can't remember the name of the organization under which it's protected and don't feel like looking it up).  It is deep in the Petén, a region of northeastern Guatemala known for its rainforest and several Mayan ruins.  Tikal is, by far, the largest of the Mayan cities discovered in the area and certainly one of the most impressive.  We started our tour (our tour guide, Cesar, was phenominal) around 7 a.m.  We saw many birds and monkeys, along with a horde some sort of animal that is closely related to the raccoon.  We also saw one rodent-type animal related to the capybara.  We walked and climbed miles in the park, which is fairly spread out.  The buildings are made of limestone and some of them are badly deteriorated, although they are being restored in part.  Temple IV is the highest peak in Tikal and we climbed to the top to look over the top of the jungle and marvel at the other Mayan buildings peaking out from the jungle's trees.  It was an amazing experience, and one I will never forget.

After El Ramate and Tikal, I decided to head to Honduras.  Turns out it's not so easy.  I took a collectivo (which is one of those shuttle vans that runs on a regular schedule picking up people along the way) to Santa Elena.  In Santa Elena (which is near Flores), I bought a ticket to Rio Dulce.  Rio Dulce is on Lake Izabel.  Rio Dulce is both a town and a river.  I met another traveler getting off the bus who also was looking for a place to stay and we ended up having the dorm (a room with bunkbeds, sometimes sleeping 8-10 people) to ourselves. We were both headed to Livingston the next day, so it was nice to not be traveling alone for a short spell.

Livingston is accessible by boat, and only by boat.  It's a beautiful 1.5-2 hours from Rio Dulce, full of beautiful greenery, bird watching and a hot spring.  Unfortunately, we made the crossing in a torrential downpour.  Fortunately, the poncho my mom gave me on the eve of my departure was in an outside pocket of my pack and easily accessible.  Also fortunately, it was relatively warm.  Still, I didn't understand the need to stop at a remote island to gaze at vultures in the pouring rain.  Nonetheless, the trip was fun and filled with beauty.

We docked at Livingston, still in the rain, and I had the luxury of carrying my 45-pound pack up and down and around winding, water-filled streets...in flip-flops.  The first hostel my travel mate and I were ushered to was full.  Sigh.  Another long walk up an even steeper hill in seemingly even heavier rain brought us to our second try.  Success!!  A hostel for only Q40 each with a private bath!  It's a bit out of the way, but the walking does me good.

Livingston is a Garifuna town.  The Garifuna people are descents of Africa.  They have their own language comprised of English, Spanish, French and an African dialect.  The town is infused with Caribbean music.  At night, bars and restaurants BLAST their music so loud that I don't understand how anyone can actually sit in those establishments.  The beaches are nothing to marvel at, although the town IS right on the coast.  People sell vegetables from make-shift tables along nearly every street (which seems odd to me considering how little vegetables are used in Guatemalan fare).  There is a tienda every 25 feet or so.  And a bar or restaurant in between every tienda.  The streets are filled with activity during the day.  It's the vibe in Livingston that draws people to it.  And I totally get it.  The vibe here is laid back, free-spirited and lively all at the same time.


That first night in Livingston it rained and rained.  I prayed that the heavy rain would mean that the next day saw hardly any rain, and my prayers were answered.  We woke up and set out on a 1.5 hour walk along the beach.  Our destination?  Los Siete Altares (Seven Altars).  We walked along the beach, which was scattered with garbage for most of our trek.  I still wonder how so much garbage can just sit there along the shoreline without anyone caring enough to clean it up.  I don't know if the garbage washed ashore or if it was dumped there.  I saw more mismatched shoes and plastic bottles on that walk than I've ever seen outside of a garbage dump.  It made me sad to witness such carelessness.

After a long, hot walk in sultry weather, we came upon the path leading to Los Siete Altares.  Q20 to enter.  What?!  We'd heard it was Q5.  Oh well, if you figure the price based upon US dollars, it was still only $2.50.

As a side note: I try not to think in US dollars because everything will seem really cheap and it's easier to spend money.  I've had to try to reconfigure my brain to thinking in terms relative to the Guatemalan currency.  I've tried to think, "I pay, on average, around Q40-Q80 for a room for the night and I should compare everything to that."  It's not easy, but that's the way of life down here.  Based upon that comparison, take a look at US hotels.  If you pay, on average $80-$125 night for basic accommodations and compare everything to that, you can see how expensive things are.  Lunch down on the street here goes for about Q10-Q25.  Lunch in a restaurant is about Q25-Q45.  So, the price for entry to Seven Altars is about the price of lunch.

In any event, the price to enter Los Siete Altares was a little shocking, but worth every penny.  We climbed over rocks and walked through rushing water, eventually finding ourselves at an amazing waterfall with a perfect swimming hole.  Ahhhh, bliss.

I spent a total of three nights in Livingston -- three more than I ever planned.  It's a little seedy at night, and you have to wonder if the cops are on the take, but it's safe enough to wander around the main streets after dark.  A group of us were told not to walk too far along the beach at night, lest we be victims of robbery.  OK, got it.  Stick to the main streets.  All in all, I like this place, but I don't feel the peace I felt in San Marcos.

I leave tomorrow morning for La Ceiba, Honduras.  Looking forward to another journey.

San Marcos, Guatemala

After Pachal, I returned to Xela for a night so that I could do some laundry, get a good WiFi connection for making plans for my next adventure and make connection with people back home, mail some stuff home and other necessary things.  I stayed at a hostel recommended by one of the Aussies.  It was nice, spartan and clean.  It was centrally located and I was able to get everything completed that I needed to.

Why unload some stuff?  Well, as you know, my pack was feeling too heavy, so I figured it was time to unload some stuff.  I left some things with Armando's family in Pachal.  A pair of pants, a shirt, a towel & washcloth and some empty bottles.  Claudia was so grateful!  Warmed my heart to see the smile on her face.  Then there were a few things I decided that I'd hate to just leave behind, but if they never made it home, oh well.  I mailed home my hair straightener (gasp!) because I decided that I don't need it (haven't used it since Puerta Vallarta).  I also sent home one dress (I have one left) and my hat and gloves.  I concluded after some cold nights in Pachal that my gloves and hat weren't doing me much good because they weren't warm enough anyway that it made more sense to buy new ones if I need them later down the road.  I sent home some other random stuff, like my small (3.5"x2.5") notebook with enclosed pen, my mini "stove" (decided I'm not going to be roughing it that much) and my compass (like I'm going to go wandering around the woods by myself!).  I think I lost about 5 pounds or so from my pack, but the darn thing is STILL too heavy.  I'll probably unload some more clothes relatively soon.  I'd hate to just leave them around, so hopefully I'll find someone near my size who is in need.

Yesterday morning, I stuffed what I had left into my pack and caught a shuttle bus to Panajachel.  It's a somewhat touristy city on Lago de Atitlán (Lake Atitlán).  I had no intention of staying in Pana, as it's nicknamed, because I've heard it's just one big tourist trap.  That's not what I'm looking for.  Ronnie (one of the Aussies) from Pachal recommend San Pedro instead, which is a smaller village on the other side of the lake.  That was my intention as I left Xela.  Funnily enough, I didn't make it to San Pedro.

The bus ride to Pana took about 2.5 hours.  The shuttle wound through the mountains the entire trip.  Up and down, around and back.  This would not be a good ride for anyone who gets carsick.  I guarantee they'd have to be asking the driver to pull over.  For the rest of us though, this is possibly one of the prettier trips to take. The mountains and volcanos, full of greenery, crops, fields, wildflowers and the occasional farm, loomed on the horizon.  I've been to the Rocky Mountains and seen huge mountains throughout America, but this is nothing like any of those.  The mountains are not snow-capped and they are full of vegetation to the very top.  The trees are not only pine, but all sorts of fruit trees, flowering trees and other trees I've never seen.

As we neared Pana, the lake came into view.  Oh.  My.  Gawd.  So, I looked at pictures of the place the internet before my arrival and they don't even do the place justice.  To be honest, I was thinking of skipping the place.  I kinda figured that if you've seen one lake at the base of a mountain, you'd seen them all.  I mean, we have Mount Hood with Timothy Lake and other great places back home, right?  Uh, no.  Lake Atitlán is majestic.  Truly awe-inspiring.  As I wound down the two-lane road to Pana, the lake sort of just appeared out of nowhere.  It is HUGE and it is surrounded by HUGE volcanoes.  The seem to soar to the limits of the sky.  The water is clear and almost a dark turquoise blue.  Small, wispy clouds hung around the tops of the volcanoes the day I arrived, almost like halos or crowns.

My driver took me to the bottom of Pana where the boats wait for passengers.  He dropped me off and told me to go to the lake.  I felt completely stranded for a few seconds.  Here I was, standing in the middle of the street, engulfed by this huge backpack that I could still barely life despite having unloaded about five pounds, staring at the boat docks and wondering who the hell I talk to to get to San Pedro.  I found a small family selling food at a stall and asked them what to do (I figured they probably have nothing to gain by sending me one direction or other, so they'd probably lead me in the right direction).  They too told me to go to the lake.  I did my best to ask them (in Spanish, of course) whether I should talk to the guys at the dock or someone else first.  They said to just talk to the guys on the dock.  Sure.  No problem.

There is a long, gravel portion of the road leading to the docks.  It is STEEP.  Carrying about 40 pounds on my back and wearing flip-flops probably isn't the easiest way to get down the decline.  Fortunately, I made it.  I said to the guys lolling about the docks, "Yo quierro ir a San Pedro."  I'm not positive that's the right way to say to them "I want to go to San Pedro," but they understood me just fine.  I was offered one boat partially full of people and a completely empty boat, one for the round-about-way and the other direct.  If I took the round-about boat, I'd stop at several villages on the way to load and unload passengers and it would take about 45 minutes.  If I took the direct route, I had to wait at the dock for more people going directly to San Pedro, but it would only take 20 minutes to get there.  I opted for the boat full of people, thinking I'd get to see a little more of the lake that way.

I squeezed onto a bench and looked around.  There was a group of women and children that clearly all came from either the same family or tribe, because they were all wearing the traditional Guatemalan garb in the same colors and patterns.  There were also several Americans on board.  A married couple from Connecticut had been living in Santa Cruz (a village on the lake) for about 6 years.  A man from New Mexico had been in San Marcos (another village on the lake) for a month and was considering moving there.  Some other men were on their way to San Pedro and were just visiting on vacation.  I struck up a conversation with the man in San Marcos.  His name is Bo.  I explained that I was on my way to San Pedro and was looking for some peace and quiet to write and relax for a little while.  I really felt like I needed some alone time.  He recommended San Marcos instead of San Pedro, and the couple from Connecticut quickly seconded his opinion.  So, San Marcos it was.

I got off the boat in San Marcos with no idea where I would go, but Bo offered to show me around and help me make sure I found a hostel to stay in for at least a night.  I checked with Hotel El Unicornio, but they only had dorm-style rooms available.  I prefer private rooms.  You pay more, but the silence and personal space is worth it to me.  Maybe later in my journey I will feel like saving the money and staying in dorm-style rooms, but not quite yet.  The next place I checked was Posada del Bosque Encantado.  They had a private room with a private bath available.  Perfect.  The cost is Q125 for the night, which is roughly $12.50 USD.  Not bad.  Bosque Encantado has only three rooms, each of which offer large rooms with private baths.  There's room for four people or more in each room (a twin bed, a double bed and a loft), but fortunately you don't pay more for the unused beds.  It felt like a little slice of heaven after Armando's house, where the toilet was in an outhouse (a hole in the dirt covered by a freezing cold metal "chair" of sorts) and my "showers" were infrequent and accomplished by washing myself with water heated on the stove.  Bosque Encantado has a beautiful courtyard filled with tropical plants and hammocks, and a café serving breakfast.  I figured it would at least do for the night.

After dropping off my bag, Bo showed me around San Marcos and told me a little of what San Marcos is all about.  It is a sort of spiritual enclave.  There are lots of opportunities for massage, yoga and meditation, which seems to be THE reason to come to San Marcos.  I still haven't decided if I will partake in some of the meditation or yoga classes, but I have a little time.  My plan was to be in San Pedro for a few days, but I might stay in San Marcos for a little longer than that because it is so peaceful.

One thing I learned after my arrival in San Marcos and after paying the Q125 for Bosque Encantado is that there are no ATMs or banks anywhere in the village.  Oops!  I didn't bring enough Quetzals for this!  Yikes.  After the Q125, I had only Q30 left!  Bo agreed to change a $20 for me so I at least had a little money to eat for the day.  I could take the boat to San Pedro the next day for some more money.  Bo and I met the owner of Bosque Encantado who showed us her house and property.  Wow!  Her house is like a child's fantasy -- it looks like a treehouse!  Such beautiful property.  Bo and I had lunch at a local restaurant that grows all their own vegetables.  It was delightful.  Bo told me about his travels over lunch and recommended some great places for me to see along the way, as well as some people to contact when I get to those places.

After lunch, I took a Tuk-tuk to another part of the village with incredible lakeshore homes and views.

I met some of Bo's friends, expats from England, Bulgaria and the US.  I visited the local community center where children were playing soccer and basketball.  Every person I met was so nice, locals and visitors alike.  San Marcos is really a beautiful place.  The buildings are connected by cobblestone paths wide enough for about 1-2 people.  The paths wind through the vegetation and buildings in a seemingly haphazard fashion, but it's not too hard to find your way.

After my afternoon with Bo, I found a place with some WiFi and settled in to write and check in on the people back home.  Well, I didn't get too far on that plan.  I ended up meeting more people.  Shocking, I know.  I talked with the two people running the place, both of whom are from the US and just had the job land in their laps about a month ago.  Eventually they plan to travel south too, but for now they are happy in San Marcos.  They are also running one of the local hostels for now, and I plan to check it out.  It's only Q50 a night, which includes breakfast the next day.  That would be a great savings, but the rooms don't have private bathrooms so we shall see.  At the WiFi spot I also met a wonderful German man who chatted with me about his travels and his time of meditation in San Marcos. He gave me some pointers of places in Panama and Colombia that I will have to see when I get there.

That about sums up my time for the last couple days.  I have some exploring to do and might just take a dip in the lake!

*** Oh, and I decided to move to the other hostel.  Saving money is a good thing!

Writings from Pachal

Antigua, Guatemala, is one of the coolest towns I have visited thus far.  It is an old Spanish colonial town and it's architecture and streets maintain as much of the original beauty as possible.  Some of the old churches are crumbling, while some of them have been restored.  The frescos and other ornamental features could keep a painter busy for hours.  The buildings along nearly all the streets have one solid facade, or at least it seems that way.  Although there are many businesses along each wall of the streets, you have to look carefully in order to tell what business you've just come upon because they aren't highly advertised like our American stores.  In fact, I was surprised to stumble upon a Subway with no fanfare other than a metal sign on the outside of an otherwise seemingly plain building.  The buildings frequently have courtyards in the middle; most storefronts, hotels, restaurants, and bars look like they are a small space, but go inside and you'll find some of the most amazing courtyards I've seen.  They have tropical plants, statues of saints and famous people, stone benches surrounded by fragrant flowers and water features that harken back to colonial times.  The mismash of buildings gives the place its own unique character that it just oozes charm.

I wandered around the streets without much thought of what to see and what to do.  I was delighted to stumble into the town square, where opposite buildings flank a beautiful park anchored by a center fountain that reminded me of DuPont Circle in Washington, DC.  The buildings are the governmental building for the mayor of Antigua and the former seat of the governor of Central America (Antigua was the seat of the government of the original Central American states).  Their large columns are so striking that you can't help but stare.  At another end of the square stands a huge (and I mean huge) church.  It's facade has been restored, but many of the former internal walls have not.  If you climb the stairs to the second level of the mayor's building, you can see the old church walls crumbling behind the restored facade.

I was sitting in the park, marveling at the buildings and people watching when a gentlemen came to sit on the bench next to my bench.  His name is Noah...I think.  I'm thinking there is a Spanish version of that name that I couldn't quite figure out.  We started a very halting and definitely difficult conversation in Spanglish.  He recounted his tale of woe to me.  Well, he recounted A tale of woe anyway.  I can't be certain that even half of what he told me was real.  Nonetheless, I listened with an attentive ear to show respect.  He apparently has four children and is out of work.  He said that last year his house slid down the mountain side in a mudslide.  He also told me that his family had not eaten in three days.  The guy was extremely skinny, so that could be true, but who knows.  In any event, I gave the guy Q50, which is the equivalent of about $6 USD.  Even if his story is fake, he still needs the money far more than I do and at least I could tell from my conversation that it was unlikely that he was going to use the money on drugs or alcohol.

After our chat, I headed out of the park for another stroll, only to be stopped by some locals asking me what I was up to and how I liked Antigua.  They invited me to watch the USA vs. Guatemala "football" (ahem....soccer) match going on that night.  I agreed.  Pretty cool.  Oh, and GO Team USA!  We won 3-1 in case you didn't know.  I met those locals and many other locals and tourists up at a local bar that evening.  It was like an American sports bar.  Pretty cool to find something like that in colonial Antigua.  I am fairly certain that I met just about everyone who is anyone that night.  Good times. Afterwards, I went to a salsa club nearby.  Wow!  They had a great band and salsa dancers.  I was asked to dance and tried to decline, but the guy said he's a salsa instructor and I accepted.  Had a great time and he definitely knew his stuff!  One dance though and I was good.  Made some friends that I think I'll go back to visit... I made it back to my hostel and crashed!  I knew I had to get up early the next day for my long bus ride to Quetzaltenango (nicknamed Xela, which is pronounced shay-la).

The next morning came way too early, but fortunately I could sleep on the shuttle bus.  The shuttle was more like an oversize minivan and they are extremely common down here.  I arranged it through my hostel so that I didn't have to deal with the crazy busy bus station.  That was a smart move, it turns out, because when I missed my 3 alarms that I set the night guy came banging on my door to make sure I made the bus.  Bonus!

*****

I arrived in Xela unscathed and none the worse for wear.  Because I had my huge backpack and my other bag, I couldn't really make good use of the extra time I had.  I got dropped off in Parque Central, which is in the center of town and framed my large governmental-looking buildings with lots of interesting architecture.  After a few pictures, I sat in Parque Central and people watched.  From what I understand from my guidebooks, there really isn't much to see in Xela besides Parque Central anyway.  So nearly three hours of time watching my passerby wasn't really a bad thing.

It soon became apparent that the women of Guatemala, particularly around these parts dress in traditional Mayan garb.  Their skirts are called cortes and their blouses are called güipils.  They are absolutely full of color!  If I ever thought I'd wear one and if I didn't have to lug it around for the next year or so, I'd buy one of those amazing skirts.  I might just have to get one and make a trip to the post office and send it home with some other stuff I don't really need.  Remember....I NEED to lighten that pack!

My ride picked me up right on time at the prearranged spot and took me to the small pueblito of Panchal.  Panchal is a small village located about 20 minutes from Xela.  One must drive up a steep hill and into the countryside off the "highway" (a two-lane road).  There are a few thousand people in the village, which has a couple cafes and tiendas (little markets), but little else.  The locals generally speak their native tongue and Spanish.  Their native language is one of the Mayan languages, I think.  Fortunately they speak Spanish too...not that I speak it well, but it's certainly better than no languages in common!

Now THIS is what I imagined it would be like when I said that I would do a little volunteer work.  This place is POOR, but they seem to have everything they need.  Not everyone in the village works for the charity I'm helping, but many do.  The Chico Mendes Project is an organization that seeks to rebuild the Guatemalan rain forests, one tree at a time.  They get no governmental assistance and don't seem to take too much of the money for administrative time.  The people at the Chico Mendes Project are dedicated -- really dedicated.  They work long hours and get themselves good and dirty.

I am living in the house of the organizer or director of the Project.  I gather that it is one large family that lives here, including the director Armando, his wife Claudia, I believe their parents and their children, but I can't be certain.  It's kind of like a compound with several small homes built around a central courtyard.  There is one other volunteer currently here, although there were two yesterday who only stayed for one night.  We eat with the family and help with their family chores as well as with the Project.  Would you believe that I milked a cow?!   Yep, first time ever!  It's not all that easy, but fun to try something new.

Generally in the mornings, we work in the small farm area preparing trees to be transplanted into the rain forest when the spring comes and the weather is right.  Sometimes this means that we are packing little bags full of dirt for future planting of little saplings, other times we are transplanting saplings into the premade bags of dirt, other times we are planting seeds to make the little saplings, etc.  The dirt under my fingernails tells the story of how much dirt I've been playing in.  Regardless, it's rewarding and there's a certain level of spirituality in spending so much time in nature getting dirty.

In the afternoons, we each take one-on-one Spanish lessons with different tutors for four hours each day.  It feels incredible to be getting my hands dirty and helping such a great cause while learning Spanish...and believe me, I need it!  My tutor, Alicia, is very patient and good.  Again, I thank God for her patience with me.  It's very easy to get frustrated and I'm impatient for it all to finally come together in my brain.  I have to remember that I'm trying to learn a completely new language from scratch and I can't just expect to have it magically pop into my head.  Practice, practice, practice.

Our accommodations are the epitome of modest.  This place has only the barest of essentials: walls and a roof over our heads, clean water to drink, food to eat and the blessings of community.  Quite nice actually.  I desperately need a shower and I'm hoping that I'll get one soon, but at least I'm not alone in this.  They don't bathe every day, so it's kind of weird to ask for a shower.  Fortunately I didn't downsize myself out of my shower wipes, so at least I've been able to use those for a bare minimum cleansing!

It's cold at night in Pachal in October.  During the day, it's in the 70s, but at night it's got to be in the 50s or so.  Again, I'm thankful that I didn't downsize my warm clothes too much just yet.  Frankly, if I am able to make it to Chile and Argentina, I will want the warm clothes then as well.  There are no heaters or fires in our rooms or the little house that the other volunteer and I are sharing, but there are plenty of blankets!

After dinner on my second night at the Project, I heard loud singing from nearby and went to investigate.  Turns out that Armando's house is just across from a small church.  I was delighted to hear familiar sounds, even if I couldn't understand the Spanish.  They hymns were unmistakable.  I peaked in and said a special thank you to God for bringing me to such a great place.  I am going to try to check out church service on Sunday.  I believe they are Catholic, but God welcomes all his children and I'm sure the church in Pajal will be no exception.

I already miss having WiFi and contact with people back home, but I suppose it's good for me.  If I expect to have time to think and pray and process and grow, I can't work at the Project, learn Spanish and waste time on the internet, all at the same time.  Something's gotta give and I guess internet is it for the moment.  It's like forced solitude, but God knows best and I don't question it anymore.  That's really quite a nice feeling: knowing that I don't have to question the situation because I can finally accept that this is all part of His great plan for me.  Removes some of the stress anyway.

****

Claudia (Armando's wife and kind of the queen bee around the house) said something to the other volunteer and I that kind of made me sad.  She said that I was the first person to ever ask about attending church and the other volunteer and I were the only ones who've ever wanted to go.  First, I find it hard to believe that the other volunteer and I are the only Christians to have passed through the Project, so it seems odd that no one would ask to go to church (let alone fail to notice the church right across the street from Armando and Claudia's house).  Second, even if you aren't religious, wouldn't you want to experience all there is to experience of life in this little pueblito where faith is apparent and obviously highly valued?  Just seems strange to me.  This is definitely a full immersion type of situation, so why not fully immerse yourself in everything?  I, for one, am excited to worship with these people and I'm looking forward to services on Sunday.

****

Armando, Claudia and I were having a conversation about Pachal and my experience at the Project.  Armando asked if I was enjoying myself.  Without hesitation, my answer was yes.  Being here is truly something special and I tried to convey that to Armando and Claudia.  I explained that I feel like I am part of the family, that I enjoy dining with them and conversing with them, that the Project is wonderful and inspiring and that Pachal has charm that no big city could have.  I am convinced they understood the impact of my words, even if my Spanish wasn't very good.  In any event, Armando said something that warmed my heart.  He said, "mi familia es tu familia."

****

My fourth day at the Project started out perfect with a nice cup of instant Starbucks coffee.  Sadly, we were greeted by bad news over breakfast.  Jose, nicknamed Don Chepe, is one of the regular workers at the project.  He lives in Pachal.  He is a man with kind eyes and a quick smile.  He suffered a tragic loss when his sister killed herself that morning.  She leaves behind four small children and was only 35 years old.  We understand that Don Chepe has been a wreck since the news came, as is understandable.

While the news is tragic, it gave this small pueblito a great sense of community.  Nearly all, if not all, the inhabitants grieved with Don Chepe tonight during a traditional Guatemalan wake.  In much of Central America, it is custom to hold a wake the night of a person's death and bury the deceased the next day.  This was no exception.  The entire pueblito is invited to walk to the cemetery with the family and help bury their loved one.  I attended the church service for the wake.  It was very moving.  It seems almost impossible to describe the sense of community that pervaded the gathering.  These people seemed to band together into one large family to embrace and hold up the grieving family.  Throughout the service, a group of women remained at the back of the church courtyard (the service, by the way, was outside in the cold night air) huddling over large cauldrons.  It soon became apparent what the women were doing when they handed out warm tea and bread.  The tea smelled like corn and tasted sweeter than any tea I'd ever had.  It warmed my belly and the service warmed my heart.  Here I was, a complete stranger to these people, yet I was welcomed into their mourning.  I prayed with them.  Rather, I prayed for them by myself because I couldn't understand most of what the pastor was saying.  I also thanked God for allowing me to witness and be a part of such a special occasion.  Granted, this isn't the best circumstance, but if a person ever felt alone and needed to feel a sense of community, this was it.

****

I had my final Spanish lesson in Pachal on Sunday.  My maestra (teacher) gave me a couple presents.  I never expected that!  She gave me a small, handmade pouch to carry my flashcards in and a skirt traditionally worn my Guatemalan girls and women.  They are so beautiful.  That afternoon, she came to get me at Armando's house to walk to church together (church is in the afternoon around there).  We attended a lovely church.  I didn't understand most of the service, but it was nice to be there.  The people were quite lovely.  The experience was unique and something that I'll cherish because I felt quite peaceful.

****

My last day in Pachal was sort of sad and exciting at the same time.  Saying goodbye to Ronnie and Darren, the two Australians also volunteering with me (Darren came to the Project just two days before I left), was bittersweet.  I had really enjoyed my time with them, and I hope to meet up with one or both of them again somewhere in my journey.  Ronnie and I chatted about wishing to get to Nicaragua and possibly crossing together through El Salvador.  Darren prefers to go through Honduras.  We shall see what the future holds.  I'm headed to Xela for a night and then who knows.

Greetings from Guatemala!

Well, I made it to Guatemala!

First things first.  So, the most important thing I've learned in the short trip from Mexico to Guatemala is that I absolutely MUST shed some of the stuff I have.  My pack is way too heavy.  I hate to leave things behind that I might need later down the road, but I can always buy new if I have to.  The hard part is figuring out what stuff to ditch and what stuff to keep.  All the blogs I read before I left had similar packing lists, and I don't think that I packed too much more than those blogs advised, but I need to cut some weight.  Maybe I can move some stuff around and then send some stuff home, but I already sent some stuff home with the friend that met me in Puerto Vallarta!  Ugh.  So, what do I ditch and when do I ditch it?  I'm thinking I'll ditch some of the "gear" & maybe a few items of clothing.  If I'm going to ditch some clothing, I'd rather give it to someone who needs it.  I just have no idea how to find those in need in the short time I have here.  Please say a little prayer for me so that I can find some guidance on this subject.

I landed this evening at about 7 p.m. local time.  Fortunately I decided to spend the extra money and reserve a car to take me from the airport.  I didn't want to be floundering around a new city with barely any Spanish skills trying to get to my destination.  Never had a guy holding a sign with my name on it before!  The drive to Antigua took about 45 minutes.  I only wish that I could've made that drive in the daytime!  From what I could tell, Guatemala City is pretty big and there is definitely lots of traffic.  After leaving the city lights behind, I could tell that we were surrounded by mountains.  I understand that there are three volcanos that surround Antigua, so I'm not too surprised that it was a winding, hilly drive.  I could see the stars almost the whole way, which was awesome!

Antigua is a rustic town with cobblestone streets.  The streets are lined by solid facades painted in every color.  The doorways are not recessed most of the time, so you're staring at one solid wall of cement with lots of shops, houses, hostels and bars with little distinction from one to the next.  I can't wait to see it in the morning.  Unfortunately, it will be very early in the morning.  My bus to Xela leaves at about 5:30 or 6 a.m.  Ugh.  At least I got some sleep on the plane!  I think I'm going to have to come back here and spend a day or two in the city if I can.

I am staying in a hostel.  This place is great!  The door is locked at all times and you have to ring a bell to be let in.  Then there's a steal gate that you have to go through before you get to reception.  Gotta say, makes this solo traveler feel a bit better.  This is the reception area:

My room is nothing spectacular but it has a bed and a bathroom with hot water.  The place has free WiFi, which was a necessity when I booked.  I have to sit out in this hallway area...outside...to stay logged in, but it's worth it.  I wasn't prepared for the cold, crisp air.  My toes are freezing in my flip flops, but thankfully my fleece jacket wasn't packed too deep and I have that.  I have no idea what the temp will be tomorrow, but I'm thinking I might finally have to bring out the warmer clothes.

So, why Antigua if I'm only heading elsewhere tomorrow?  Well, I just needed a place to rest before my long bus ride.  I expect it will take about 5 hours to get to Xela.  While in Xela, I'm volunteering at a rain forest preservation project and will help plant trees (I think).  I will also be taking some desperately needed Spanish lessons.  After that, I don't know.  I'm still waiting for God's guidance or divine intervention.  Maybe I'll meet some other travelers in Xela and figure it out from there.  Maybe someone will suggest the perfect opportunity for more volunteer time.  I don't really know.  I just know that God will lead me in the right direction and put the right people in my path.

Well, I guess I better get some sleep.  Buenas noches!

The Last Week

I left the orphanage over a week ago and I've had some time to reflect and relax.  This will probably be a long blog because I'm summing up the last week, so bear with me.

I'm currently sitting in the Puerto Vallarta airport waiting for my flight that has already been delayed twice.  Hopefully no further delays.

I feel a bit weird.  I miss those kids!  They brought a light to my life that I hadn't felt in a really long time.  I felt my heart melt when they smiled and just wanted to be held and wanted hugs and wanted to tell me about their day. I miss little Gema running up to me, "Amiga!"  She was actually starting to be able to say my name.  "Heather" is a hard name for a Spanish-speaking person, let alone a small child.  She would usually run up to me with her arms outstretched, waiting for a hug.  Her small high-pitched little girl's voice quietly saying "Hea-thder."  When she says it, the "H" sounds more like the "G" in her name and the "th" has a faint "d" sound in it.  I didn't get to say goodbye to her when I left and I'm saddened by it.

I tried to find as many of the kids as a I could to say goodbye the morning I left.  Rosa came by my dorm to see what I was up to that day and I had to break the news to her that I was leaving.  She cried.  I promised Rosa that I would be back some day.  I WILL make good on that promise.  And maybe when I go back, my Spanish will be good enough to sit and have a really awesome conversation with her.  Little Hector didn't want to say goodbye at all, until Rosa explained to him that I was leaving.  He came and gave me a hug, and then, as I turned around, he decided to leave me with a lasting memory of him...he bit me on the butt.  No lie.  Funniest thing ever!  I can truthfully say that I will not forget that goodbye.  Giovanni gave me a huge hug.  That kid is quite remarkable.  He was pretty shy at first, despite the fact that he speaks really good English.  He warmed up and we became friends just a few days before I left.

I miss the comfort of family that the orphanage gave me.  They aren't my family, but they sure know how to make a person feel like family.  I got teary eyed a few times during my goodbyes, and then I was off.

Looking back, it was the best segue into my new life that God could've given me.  I thanked The Lord for that every day I was there and I've done it every day since.   It's difficult to describe my experience; it's something a person would have to experience on their own to believe the power of the place and the blessings doled out there.

I just spent a week in Puerto Vallarta with a great friend.  We relaxed, got some sun, and met some new friends.  We stayed at a resort, which was a nice change.  I sprawled out in the huge bed like I hadn't seen a real bed in years.  At the orphanage, I was sleeping on a twin-sized bunk bed.  It was fine for me, but my head certainly doesn't miss all the times I smacked it on the upper bunk!  I realize there will likely be more bunk beds in my future, but I'm not gonna lie, it was nice to be in a real bed.

My friend and I volunteered at a ministry in Puerto Vallarta for a day.  It's called New Beginnings.  If you are ever in the PV area or are looking for a great place to dole out some of God's love and share it with like-minded people, check them out at http://www.newbeginningsmexico.org.  The organization was started by a Canadian couple who live in PV most of the year and in Canada a few months of the year.  A retired couple from Texas picked us up at our resort for our day of service.  They volunteer at New Beginnings every year, for several months of the year.  First we went to the store first to buy supplies.  That's where we met Herb.  He is from Ireland and lives in PV and volunteers his time for New Beginnings.  Literally...he volunteers.  The volunteers at New Beginnings are self-sufficient and 100% of the money they receive in donations goes back to the people of PV.  They don't use any of it for administrative costs, which is remarkable and practically unheard of.  After we bought some food, we headed to one of PV's garbage dumps.  The food was for two things: dispenses and a lunch for the people in the dump.

Side Note: **In case you don't know, dispenses are bags of food that are donated to the area's poor.  DoFo handed out dispenses too.  It's a small bag of essential items, usually including some pasta, beans, rice, lentils, sauce, flour and the like.  I'm gathering that it's kind of standard to include five items in each bag, because both DoFo and New Beginnings put five things in each bag.**

As we traveled down the bumpy, winding dirt roads to the dump, the stench began to permeate the air.  The couple from Texas warned us, but it was little preparation for the noxious odor that invaded our senses.  Now THIS was a dump.  You may recall that I volunteered at a dump in Tijuana.  This place was not like the one in Tijuana.  The Tijuana dump is no longer an active dump, whereas the one in PV is active.  Well, sort of.  It's more of a transfer station.  The people who live there have built their homes around the active dump, and most work in the dump, collecting recyclable material for money.  But this is not like a recycling center in the States.  Not even by a long shot.  The people are COVERED in dirt, grime and every foul scent known to man.  There were young adults to elderly people working in the dump, surrounded by vultures that circled and landed amongst the rubbish.

About 50-75 yards from the hill where the trash sorting takes place is a newish building used as a sort of community center.  One of the inhabitants, Rico, helps at the center.  It turns out that Rico is a pretty good painter and he painted the mural above the entrance.  He also paints and sells his wares.  Herb told us that Rico is a reformed drug addict who found God and now helps improve his own little village by helping at the community center.  He works in the dump at night.

At the community center out of which New Beginnings "operates," we assembled the dispenses.  Three of us, plus Rico, drove around to the other side of the dump and handed out about half of the dispenses (the other half were dispersed at the community center).  Wow.  These people have so little!  So little.  Their homes are shanties and nothing more.  Some of their walls are sheets and blankets.  Worse, they live with the stench of the dump every day of their lives.

Back at the community center, the ladies of the community that volunteer there were making soup for us to take to the workers of the dump.  When it was ready, we drove it into the dump (it was such a large pot that there was no way we could carry it).  The day was sweltering hot...probably about 100 degrees...and here we were handing out hot soup!  Those working in the dump saw us coming and began to line up.  Most didn't have anything to clean their hands before they ate, many were missing numerous teeth, some were so old that I wondered how they could possibly still be working...and ALL of them were grateful.  They gobbled down that hot soup and the piece of bread we brought with it like they hadn't had a meal in at least a full day.  It was eye-opening, heart-breaking and inspiring.  My words and pictures can't begin to adequately describe the place or the people there.  I'm thankful for the ability to serve there.

The rest of the week my friend and I relaxed.  We hung out with our new friends from Canada, which I'm sure will be life-long friends.  They took us to Sayulita, a surfing town about 20 minutes north.  I could totally live there for a while.  Honestly, I thought about staying for a couple extra days.  Our friends also took us along for a night out in PV.  That was a kick in the pants!  Good times.  My friend and I went swimming with dolphins one of the days.  That was crazy fun!  We had two dolphins in a group of just six people for about 30 minutes.  The dolphins' names were Mila and Ava.  We learned a lot about dolphins that day and had a lot of fun.  Are you aware that they feel like an inter tube?  They gave us dolphin kisses and a great belly ride.  It was so much fun!

I said goodbye to my friend a little bit ago and now I need to go board my plane.  I'm off to Guatemala next, with a brief visit in Dallas with some friends I met on a vacation a couple years ago.  So excited to be able to catch up!  I'll have to add pictures later!