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.