Full moon hikin' on Santa Maria

(view from the top of Santa Maria, 3,772 m up, as the sun rises)

The other day was the full moon.


(my hands were too cold to be able to screw on a tripod)

There's an activity organized here in Xela that a lot of the active tourists do during the full moon: they climb a 3,772 m high volcano through the night to watch the sunrise.

It's rainy season. It has rained every afternoon into the night for the entire time I've been here. Until 2 days ago. We were so lucky! We had one of the most beautiful nights -- there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the moon and sky was so bright that I didn't even use a flashlight to climb the mountain.

By the time I'd decided to do the hike, the main trekking organization was full and there was a waiting list. When I told my friend Jenny this, she said that she'd done it the last month, and it wasn't that hard... so she thought that we could do it on our own. A few other guys from the spanish school were interested in this adventure too, so off we went into the great unknown. Guide-shmide!

We hired a taxi and by 1 am we were at the base of the mountain, our packs filled with food and water.

The bonus of going this night, was that we knew there were about 70 other people doing the same thing. Somehow, we were the only ones that thought it was reasonable to go off and do it on our own. But to me, this was way, way better. Not only did we do it for 1/7 th the price, but we were on our own schedule, and the uncertainty added a lot to the excitement.

Within 45 minutes of hiking we'd overtaken the "slow" group, which left 45 minutes before us. Great, we knew we were on the right path. "There's a left turn coming up!" their guide shouts to us as we're passing them.

About 20 mintues of hiking later, Jen realized that she definitely doesn't recognize anything in our surroundings. We pause to laugh, and decide that it's best to go back to where we met up with the slow group and regroup. No problem, we could hear voices in the distance.

As we approached the location, we realized that we could no longer hear the voices. A deafening and powerful silence, the kind that makes you hear all of your booming thoughts without distraction, filled the air. Until we started laughing again. Then we saw another trail jutting off to the left, YES, we'll take it.

About 30 minutes of hiking later, we still had seen no sign of any other people. We thought this strange based on how quickly we'd overtaken the group the first time. We decided that worst case scenario, we're lost, but will continue going up, and we had about 3 hours to make a good dent in the mountain. We all were up for the adventure, and kept our spirits high.

Then, to our great surprise, about 15 minutes after resigning to the fact that we were on our own, we saw flashlights in the distance and heard the murmer of distant voices! WHAT! Awesome! We were actually going the right way, how did THAT happen!?

We caught the group quickly, and found out that the rest of the way up the mountain was very straight-forward. And straight-up.

As we climbed into the night, it got colder and colder. Our hands stopped working properly, and our breath got quicker and shallower. We were definitely going up.

By about 4 am, we were drunkenly closing in on the summit. That kind of altitude affects your balance, and combined with the fact that it was 4 am, extra care was necessary with each step. People's humour was generally freezing over with the functional loss of each of their extremities. What most people failed to process was that the higher they got, the more windy and cold it was going to be. We stayed behind and slowed our pace, and even though it was blisteringly cold when you were not moving, it was defintely the right decision, as the top was unbearable and we didn't want to arrive only to wait up there extra time for the sunrise.

When we finally did arrive, it was about 5 am, and the sun started to rise about 5:20. WOW. We were on top of the 2nd highest visible point (the highest being the highest point in central america, which was just above eye-level) and the view was breath-taking! I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.



(3 of the 4 renegade guide-less hikers)


(the sun peaks through, and it's all worth it)


(God lives up here)







(YESSSsssss...)










(the whole renegade crew!)

In the distance underneath us to the south west was the active volcano Santa Igito. We watched it explode a giant plume of smoke just after sunrise. This baby goes off about once an hour. It was really magical with Santa Maria casting a giant shadow that stretched miles over the ground, with the volcano exploding into the shadow.




(Santa Maria casts a shadow over Santa Igito)



(there she blows!)

Then, just like that, we ate and descended. On the walk down, I was commenting on how much garbage there is thrown to the ground in this country. There's a complete lack of education and understanding, so it's just accepted that when you're done with your Coke bottle, styrofoam container, or plastic wrapper of any sort, you'll just throw it on the ground. It's really a shame. The girl I was talking about this too noted that I wasn't doing anything about it, and she was right. So I leaned down and picked some up. Then some more, and before I knew it, everybody that I was walking with had garbage bags, and we picked up all the litter we could until we had no more bags to fill. It was really a great walk. Be the change, right?

Xela-tastic

(view down the main strip in Xela... note, Christ is Coming!)

Sorry to have been so negligent lately with my blog, but I haven't been using the internet much. Which is a really nice change of pace. And now that I'm trying to write, there's so much that's happened, I don't know what to relate.

I've been in Xela for just over 2 weeks now. My first week here, I took spanish lessons. One-on-one, 5 hours a day. My head was spinning with theory. And now, a week later having let it all sink in, I'm not sure that I really speak spanish any better. In fact, I might actually know LESS spanish at this point. Just like any school I've ever been to, it was packed with a lot of theory that turns out to amount to almost no practical knowledge when you take it and try and apply it in the real world. None the less, my teacher was cool, and taught me all of the most important street slang, which is the only thing that's really come in useful.



(my Spanish teacher, Mario)

A really great part of the spanish classes is that they placed my in a homestay with a wonderful Guatemalan family. Even after my school ended, I have stayed with them, and we've developed a great relationship.


(multi-tasking, outside my family house)

Xela itself is a vibrant city, of about 150,000 people, set up in the mountains at about 2000m, but surrounded by volcanos (some active) and mountain peaks. There's a mixture of old and new everywhere you look with women dressed in traditional dress talking on cell phones, and market stalls beside McDonalds and grocery stores. There's also a pretty happenin' tourist scene here, but generally speaking, these tourists are a good kind, here to volunteer or learn spanish.


(this is a normal sight... it's probably about 11 am)

I've done a tonne of cool stuff in the extra time:

I went to a few "natural" saunas -- the steam comes from the volcanic activity under the earth.


(on the walk to the sauna, check out the eucalyptus trees!)

I have toured around to a few of the surrounding towns within a few hours, to check out some of the markets.


(the "chicken" busses, getting to and fro')


(ah, the old and the new -- traditionally dressed lady with cell phone sign in the background)


(I just loved this dude.)


(what do you MEAN that's not for sale?)



(a few market stalls, artisans selling their wares)


(typical market scene)

I've bumped into friends that I met on the road months back. I went to a natural spa, with hot water created by vents in the earth. And to a spot with rocks that shoot up from the ground in a strange geographical formation that looks like it's from an old Star Trek episode.


(sitting atop a phallus)

Probably the highlight of the 2 weeks in Xela was the overnight full-moon hike we did up a mountain. It was so awesome (in the proper sense of the word) that it deserves its own blog entry.

Oh, and of course, I jammed with a parrot.



Logan and I split up when I went to San Marcos, he went to San Pedro. We connected again for a week or so in Xela when he came through. But he's subsequently gone east and south, and I'm heading south. We'll hook up again soonish I hope. Due to a miscommunication, it will be a little longer than we expected, as he's headed east and then south into Honduras, and I'm heading to El Salvador tomorrow for a week or so of learning to surf!

I friggin' love this

(I wish I'd caught my wind-blown hair in this pic, from the back of the truck)

Ahhh, finally... finally, I´m feeling like I'm starting to experience a little bit more of the real Guatemala. I can't really explain the feeling I had rushing through my body as I was riding up the side of a mountain, standing in the back of a pickup for 40 minutes ($0.50), overlooking a beautiful lake with volcanoes in the background, with 5 local Guatemalans -- the 3 woman in their incredible local dress, and the men willingly helping me with my travels (since I obviously had no idea how I was going to get where I wanted to go when I got in the truck).


(truckin')

The feeling of the wind blowing through my hair (or what hair I have left, ENOUGH already Gods of Receeding Hairlines). The adrenaline rush knowing that you're just one failed ball joint on a mid-70s truck in a country with no safety regulations for their passenger vehicles away from a rapid descent down the mountainside, Hollywood style. Freeeeeeeeeeeedom!


(typical view of the lake from San Marcos, kayaking is a popular activity in this do-nothing sleepyville)

Ahhh, today, the entire country lost power for 4 or 5 hours. At least, that's what I heard from someone who heard from someone who was listening to the radio (wait a sec... a powerless radio? hmmm. Oh technomology you're so zaaaaany! "batteries"... who knew!) Almost nobody even batted an eye. Can you imagine? Do you remember the blackout and how "the world" came grinding to a stop? Ha!

Yes, I've done it, I've taken my last tourist shuttle. After the first few weeks in Guatemala, I was beginning to wonder if there IS a real Guatemala, or if it is all just an international social test created and carried out by "the man" to get people of first nation economies to come and ride in shuttles and hang out together. It was a little disheartening to be honest. I was getting overly tired of the english /hebrew speaking beer drinking generally north american living scene that was everywhere we were going. If I wanted that, I would've just stayed in Toronto (okay, granted, there were plenty of beautiful places that we visited, and there is virtue in meeting other travellers). I wanted to see the REAL Guatemala. Eat where they eat. Ride how they ride. Talk how they talk. Experience the culture, instead of skimming around on top of it, looking at it and occasionally poking at it with a money stick.


(so THIS is what the world looks like before 8 am... glad to see that I haven't been missing much that doesn't exist at 10)

About a week ago, for our departure from Antigua, Logan and I took what is affectionately known as a "chicken bus." Oh man, I'm never looking back! This is the preferred method of travel for all Guatemalans (aka Guatelatecos), mostly because it's the most affordable means of getting wherever you want to in the country. Four bus changes, 8000 Guatelatecos, 2 white people, a few strange conversations about Canada, lots of smiles, and some rather exhilarating passing antics later, we arrived at our desination. Not to mention, with an extra $7 in our pockets (which, incidently, was 2 nights accomodations -- or 33% the cost of the tourist trip). Ahhh, how refreshing!


(hard-working fisherman on Lago de Atitlan)

Oh, and I've GOTTA tell you about yesterday's gong-show from Lago de Atitlan to Xela. After taking a few "back of the pickup truck" rides up to a remote mountain-top village, I found myself being ushered into a minivan. "What a pimp ride!" I thought, only after making sure that the other passengers (which at this time numbered 4) were not tourists. As is custom, the man shouting the destination of the bus (which was actually "kilometre ciento quarenta y ocho" -- a marker for "km 148" on the highway) flung my bag and guitar (and, as is custom, I begged him to be careful with my guitar, as it's more valuable to me than my wife -- they love a joker, and making them laugh gets you more respect and lowered fare -- little do they know, I have no wife) up onto the roof.

"What a cooshy ride," a naive boy would think. I however think, "Oh MAN, what a COOSHY RIDE!". IDIOT. You think that by now I'd know better, but noooooo.... So, onward and upward, and we start to pick people up. By the time we leave town, we have managed to put 14 -- FOURTEEN -- people in the minivan. Holy crap, I have no leg room, but it's all gravy, because I'm once again a traveller and have restored my travelling dignity. "Thank goodness we're on the road," I think as we accelerate up to speed.

Which of course was immediately follwed by deceleration, to pick up another 3 people. Hmmm, interesting. Now we have 5 people wide on each of the 3 person benches, and a man standing, er, hunching over, by the door. And we accelerate again. 17 people. "This is too cool. Who needs leg room anyway."

And we decelerate again. "We're there alre.... *sudden realization* WHAT?! You've gotta be kidding me." Another 6 people pile into the minivan. I can't help it, a laugh accidently slips out. Everybody smiles and a few even join me. Apparently it's even funny for them. Twenty-three people in the minivan. TWENTY-THREE. I remember when they made us take extra mini-vans to sporting events in public school cause we weren't legally allowed to take more than 7. And I'm sitting with 23. Well, sitting with 16, and sitting nearby another 7 that are doing some form of hunch-stand beside the sliding door.

We remained like this for about 15 minutes, until it started to rain. Well, REALLY rain. It was already raining. Then we pulled over. I almost farted I laughed so hard -- there was NO WAY we could fit another person into the van. Turns out that we weren't going to try, but somehow, we managed to squeeze 3 pieces of luggage from the roof into the van. And then there was talk about my guitar, as it was more important than my wife, but they insured me that it was under cover.

We then get back up to speed, and I can see in the distance, two women with their goods waiting for a ride. Yet, to my surprise (I'm not sure how I managed to be surprised at this point, with 23 people in the minivan in a downpour) , we didn't slow down to pick them up. You should've SEEN the faces on the two ladies that we passed by -- it was the funniest shit I've seen all week. Their candid expressions clearly conveyed "what do you mean you're FULL?!" I think it was their gigantic baskets that were their downfall. Poor ladies. Now, I'm not a heartless SOB, but come on, you would've found it funny too in that circumstance. Plus, they had cover.

When we arrived at km 148, we disembarked, in similar fashion to how north American drivers leave a round-about, and I found my bag and guitar thoroughly soaked. Classic. Ah well, no harm, no foul. A check bus later, and I was at my newest home, Xela.