Doin' the Do in Xelajú

El Estadio near our house - home of the Xelajú soccer team

It’s happening again! We are slaking majorly on keeping up with the blog! Many adventures have occurred since the last post and while I would LOVE to go into in-depth detail on each adventure, I’ll spare you the boring details and get to the good stuff.

A few weekends back, Alex and I had plans to visit Lago Atitlán, one of Guatemala’s most beautiful, volcano-ringed lakes. However, my Spanish teacher informed me of a ten-kilometer race happening that Saturday night and, after a man at the gym told Alex that there would be a motorcycle and car show prior to the race, we decided to postpone the trip to Atitlán and stick around Xela for the weekend. We woke on Saturday morning to the coldest weather we’ve experienced thus far in Guatemala, with chilly temperatures and very abnormal drizzling rain – thank goodness the race didn’t start until seven o’clock at night. As race time crept closer the rain let up but the temperature kept dropping leaving the 3,000 some-odd race participants layered-up and pacing around the square, anxiously attempting to warm up. The starting-gun was fired and we were off, jogging happily through the cobblestone streets of Xela. I never thought I would run my first 10K in Guatemala, but this race couldn’t have been a better way to do it. Throughout the entire race, the streets were lined with spectators cheering enthusiastically “SI SE PUEDE!!” (Yes, you can!) and “VAMOS EQUIPO!” (Let’s go team!). If it weren’t for their cheering or the thousands of other kids, adults, dogs and even a few elderly folks running alongside me, I don’t think the race would have been anywhere near as enjoyable or attainable! One hour, one minute and twenty seconds after the race began, Alex and I crossed the finish line – overwhelmed with joy and relief that we’d accomplished our first race! We are going to try our luck tomorrow at another 10K sponsored by the hospital Alex works at and I only hope it is easy and fun as the first. (It definitely was not.)

On Sunday morning we caught a sequence of busses to the town of San Martín, about an hour and a half outside of Xela. We were bound for the sacred Mayan crater lake of Laguna Chicabal. As we’ve come to discover in this country, the Guatemalan idea of a typical “hiking trail” is a dusty, incredibly vertical road that jets straight up the mountainside with no relief of a switchback or a flat stretch. After six miles of vertical climbing and burning Gluteus Maximus’ we reached the rim of Chicabal and descended the 615 stairs STRAIGHT DOWN to the water’s edge. Reaching the lake, however, made every step of the rather unpleasant climb worth it. The indigenous people frequently hike to the lake to offer prayers and gifts to the Maya gods so we weren’t surprised to see dozens of Mayan alters scattered around the lake or the group of people holding a traditional offering ceremony. The lake is so sacred, in fact, that during the week of Semana Santa tourists are prohibited to visit because of the high volume of Mayan ceremonies being held. Not only was it incredibly neat to be on such sacred ground, at a lake in the crater of a volcano, but it was also interesting to witness a little bit of an offering ceremony. It was definitely cooler than anything I’ve seen in a museum. (For all those wondering, swimming in this lake was strictly prohibited and extremely frowned upon or else you better believe I would have soaked my bones in some sacred Mayan water!)

The next weekend, we followed through with our postponed plans to visit Lago Atitlán. Alex and I left Xela early on Friday morning and began the tedious bus-riding/travel process to get to our final destination: the tiny town of Santiago Atitlán. We caught a small minibus to the main terminal where we hopped aboard a traditional “chicken bus.” Chicken busses, as I’ve mentioned in the previous post, are retired school busses in which the drivers have painted vibrant colors and designs, added bells, horns, stickers and lights, replaced all rims and grills with blinding chromed-out accessories and, most importantly, traded out the typical radio with bass-heavy speakers and a fancy sound system. Basically, these busses are what every child dreams their school bus would look like. Following with traditional Latin American travel procedure, these busses typically carry two-to-three times as many passengers than they can comfortably hold. Furthermore, the “speed limit” here is more of a “speed guideline” in which most drivers do not abide by, leaving us oozing and shifting against the other squeezed passengers as we flew through the winding highway to the pueblo of Los Encuentros. From here we caught another packed chicken bus to the bustling market town of Sololá where we hopped aboard yet another packed chicken bus for the half and hour ride down the mountain to the port town of Panajachel. Tough Pana is the busiest and most popular location on the banks of Lago Atitlán, Alex and I wanted to travel to a town a little more off-the-beaten-path with less tourists. 

So, after a delicious lunch at an adorable café, we bargained for a lancha ride across the lake to Santiago Atitlán. Four busses and a boat ride later we found ourselves wandering up Santiago’s streets in search of a hotel to rest our weary bones. We checked into a simple hotel for the steep price of Q.110 (or about $13.75) and took a tuktuk ride down to the water to enjoy happy hour and gaze at the looming Volcán San Pedro. After night fell and the day-tourists returned to Pana, locals flooded the streets in preparation for spectating the weekly Semana Santa precession. The procession in Santiago proceeded in the following: a group of older women singing and carrying candles led about a dozen men bearing an incredibly intricate replica of Jesus carrying the cross and behind them followed a small drum-and-trumpet duo, horning out the rhythm of the music. This was one of many processions we’ve seen and will see, but it is always interesting to see how the particular town portrays their version of Jesus carrying the cross and the important figures that go along with him (more on that later).

We got an early start on Saturday morning with hopes of catching a lancha to the town of San Pedro la Laguna. After hustling to make the eight o’clock boat, we were told that there was, in fact, no eight o’clock boat and that the next departing lancha left at nine. So we enjoyed the freshest of breakfasts by the water and, after successfully boarding the nine o’clock boat, were finally on our way to San Pedro. From the dock Alex and I squeezed into a little tuktuk that carted us up the hill to the entrance of the Volcán San Pedro Municipal Ecological Park, where we began the ascent of our second volcano. One definition my dictionary offers of the word “hike” is a “sharp increase” and I believe it is this definition which is most fitting for defining hikes in Guatemala. After growing up in the Rocky Mountains, I consider myself to be an avid hiker, but the mountains here really give me a run for my money. And none more so than San Pedro –that thing was ver-ti-cal. Three hours of verticality to be exact. But again, like most of the hikes we’ve done here, the view from the top was spectacular and completely worth the tired legs and shaky knees.

A worker at the park volunteered to lead us up the first part of the mountain because there are dozens of different trails leading though fields of coffee, squash, corn and beans and it is easy to get turned around. This friendly, middle aged man offered to set us up with a hotel – one with a great view, hot water, comfortable beds, hammocks and an affordable price. He told us he’d meet us back at the entrance around three o’clock and escort us to the hotel. If this all sounds too good to be true – then San Pedro must be the land of good truths because this man did exactly as he said he would do. Within a short twenty minutes after ending our hike we were settled snugly in comfy hammocks over looking the beautiful lake and sipping happy-hiker beers. Life was good.

On Sunday we only had half of the day to enjoy San Pedro before catching the array of busses back to Xela so we did what anyone would do and went swimming. After enjoying a savory breakfast and sipping on world-famous coffee at the delightful Café Atitlán, we scampered down the banks of the lake and perched ourselves on a group of perfect jumping rocks. From our location we were able to watch flocks of women wash their clothes in the lake and various men bathe themselves in the refreshing, blue water.  Upon observing this we were ensured that the water was bearable for a swim and didn’t waste any time enjoying the invigorating water. As most good things do, our wonderful weekend adventure came to an end as our bus rattled up the steep mountain cliffs headed for Xela. In my opinion, the majestic Lago Atitlán is a “must see” for anyone interested in visiting Guatemala.

                  This past Friday was a big day for the students at my school. It was the day they’d been talking about for weeks: the day we hiked up Volcán Santa Maria.  Considering the school’s staff consists of one principal, Florentíne, one male teacher and four female teachers (who had no intention of hiking up a volcano) I was asked if I could please assist in the chaperoning of the Field Trip. I immediately jumped at the opportunity; even if we were only hiking up half way, it was a chance to explore a little of the volcano that towers over Xela.  Around seven o’clock on Friday morning Alex and I, along with Florentíne, the male teacher and more than eighty-six jittery, energized kids, piled aboard a chicken bus headed towards the base of the mountain. There was no roll call or hiking-buddy assignments, we just climbed aboard and off we went, so it’s surprising that we only forgot one student. When we reached the end of the road and the driver slid open the door, several of the high-energy boys piled out and immediately started sprinting up the mountain. This was a big no-no on every field trip I ever went on, but the Florentíne wished them well and let them run! The next time I saw them was at our final destination, where they were already points into an intense soccer match. There was a man with his two young sons who was trailing our group and he, bless his soul, offered to take those who wanted up to the summit of the volcano. With Florentíne’s blessing, that same rambunctious group of boys immediately stopped their game and continued sprinting up the trail. Not to be out-hiked by the students, Alex and I committed to the climb and followed along at a slower pace.  It wasn’t long until the steep incline of the volcano tuckered them out and we were able to hike last hour or so as a group. What I enjoyed more than any of the joking around or the jaw-dropping view from the top was the quality time I spent with my students. In the classroom they view me as just another temporary volunteer who’s trying to teach them a thing or two about English. But I think this hike helped them view me as an actual person who cares about them and their learning – and visa versa. To me they are no longer rambunctious little kids who are determined to make me loose my mind – they’re people with dreams and goals, who I can’t blame for not taking me as seriously as I take myself. With yet another volcano ascent notched on the belt and some excellent outdoor time spent with the kiddos, it was a fantastic way to spend a Friday.

On Saturday Alex and I made our way (on yet another train of chicken busses) to the world-famous town of Antigua, Guatemala. From 1543 to 1776, Antigua, meaning “ancient”, was the capital city of Guatemala until a series of violent earthquakes destroyed thousands of buildings and the Spanish Monarch demanded the capital be moved to a more secure location. Nowadays, the historical Spanish architecture combined with dozens of old, crumbling ruins makes for an absolutely picturesque setting. Wandering through the beautiful streets felt like we’d landed ourselves somewhere in Spain and we wasted no time getting to know the city. We spent the whole afternoon exploring the cobblestone streets of Antigua and dipping in and out of quaint souvenir shops, tranquil coffee shops and authentic restaurants. Rumor has it that Antigua is the world’s number one destination for Holy Week and on Sunday, all of the town’s the tranquility was diluted as thousands of people flooded the streets in hopes of catching one of the signature Semana Santa processions. After walking up to a scenic overlook Alex and I followed a street laden with people diligently creating breathtaking floral/sawdust carpets or "alfombras" in preparation for the procession. This tradition is one of the coolest I have come across during my time in Latin America. People create beautiful, intricate, carpet-like designs out of flowers, sawdust, pine needles, fruits and vegetables as offerings for the Saints. Even though the procession tramples these designs, the people work meticulously to make them masterpieces.

As we heard the booming procession inching closer and closer, Alex and I squeezed ourselves amongst the crowd of anxious onlookers and as the amazing structure rounded the corner we finally understood what all the hype was about. Thousands of men adorned in purple robes filled the streets and more than a hundred of them were bearing an unbelievable portrayal of Jesus carrying the cross, along with many other intricate figures and displays. A loud band followed these men, droning out a dark and somewhat sorrowful melody.  As I sit here and try to explain this event, I realize that it was definitely one of those “you had to be there” moments – it truly was a sight to see.

After the procession passed we had to scramble through the crowds to catch the first of three busses needed to get us back to Xela. Although we only spent approximately twenty-eight hours in Antigua, we were able to understand why everyone raves about it. It is a magical little town, with beautiful scenery and an aura about it that is different from all other cities we’ve visited in Guatemala. Along with Lago Atitlán, I would highly recommend Antigua to anyone planning a visit to Central America.

            

I’m sure you’re thinking that all Alex and I are doing in this country is gallivanting around from one incredible destination to the next  - which we are, but we’re continuing to be dedicated to our volunteer work as well.

This is one of the five classrooms

Teaching English, to what are now seventy-nine students, has turned out to be quite a handful. This boy Brayan, for example, will only respond to me if I refer to him as “Metalica” or “AC/DC.” Like I mentioned earlier, my biggest struggle with the kids is trying to get them to take me seriously. While this is incredibly frustrating and frequently leaves me feeling defeated, I can’t say that I blame them. If I had a different teacher come through every couple of months trying to teach me random words and phrases in English, I would probably not pay attention and throw paper at them too. (Yes, I’ve repeatedly had balled up paper and even a spit-ball or two thrown in my direction… minutes later those students were cleaning the bathrooms.)  Everyday I am reminded of the value of patience and I am hoping that by using patience, encouragement and understanding I will be able to make at least a little lasting impression on these bright students. Most of all, this volunteer experience has opened my eyes to the incredible task teachers have and I will forever hold the upmost respect for all of them… except the substitute that beat a kid with a violin stick.

I supposed I better wrap up this novel – I said I’d make it short and I’m going on four pages! We only have about a month left (I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!) of our Amazing Adventure and the plans we have lined up are awesome, so expect at least a few more posts before our time is up!

Muchas gracias para leindo!