Tajumulco

Since Monday I have been busy with 5 hours of Spanish lessons from 8am until 1pm and activities in the afternoon. The Spanish is coming along OK, and it is encouraging to feel myself improving, if only very slowly. My list of verbs is growing ever longer and when I can’t handle conjugating verbs any more we play games designed for four year olds!!

Monday’s activity was a trip to the nearby village of Zunil. Zunil is slightly famous for the saint it houses, not in the Catholic Church, but in a run down house on the outskirts of the village. The reason Saint Simón does not live in the church is that the Catholic Church does not recognise him and the reason they don’t recognise him is because he is evil, a combination of ancient Mayan beliefs and modern imposed Catholicism. The first impression you get stepping into his chamber is that it is hot and dimly lit. The reason for both of these phenomena is that the chamber is lit mostly by the candles that have been bought by worshippers. San Simón sits in the middle of the room surrounded by candles and about four attendants; he is dressed in an assortment of odd clothes, including a scarf and a cowboy hat.

On our visit we were fortunate enough to experience a man asking San Simón for a favour. This intricate process first involved lighting a candle for San Simón, the colour of which varies according to the type of favour needed, white for the health of a child, yellow for a good harvest, red for love and black to wish ill upon another person (San Simón will not kill people, only incapacitate them). As other Saints are capable of granting at least the first two requests many of the candles are red or black, and in many cases the two are burnt together! We did not get to see which type of candle this particular worshipper had lit, but his next task was to give San Simón a small cigar, which he smokes through a pipe (an attendant is on hand all day to clear his pipe for him, the ash from which is sold to cure insomnia). Having had a smoke, San Simón was next given rum, the attendant tipped San Simón back, and an entire small bottle was poured down his throat. Having pleased San Simón, the man then spent several minutes whispering in San Simón’s ear, giving him detailed instructions I suppose. Having witnessed this unusual ceremony we got back on the bus and headed back to Xela, I would have to say it is one of the strangest things I have ever seen!

Tuesday’s activity was somewhat more normal, a trip to Fuentes Georginas, hot springs which emerge from the mountainside above Zunil. The springs flow into a nice rock pool with a small restaurant on the side. We spent a couple of hours soaking in the hot water (a pleasant relief after a month of lukewarm showers) before returning to Xela.

Wednesday afternoon’s activity was a dance class, most of you will be surprised to know that I attended, and being one of only two males at the school to attend, the girls had no choice but to dance with me despite my general lack of ability. For the record we learnt the Salsa and Marimba, and I wasn’t quite as bad as you all may expect.

On Wednesday night we organised to see the local soccer team, Xelaju play against some other team (the name of which is unimportant because I’ve forgotten). Arriving at the stadium we paid our entrance fee and climbed onto the concrete stand in time to watch the second half of the under 20’s (who won 2-1 if anyone cares). The lesser match having been completed, Xelahu paraded onto the field led by their mascot Supochivo (sp?), literally ‘Super Goat.’ At this point a large portion of the crowd put the paper bags they had been carrying over their heads. After some rather difficult enquiries we managed to ascertain this was because the team was on a rather spectacular loosing streak and the supporters were ashamed and hence did not want to be seen! Meanwhile the spectators who were not so ashamed proceeded to let off a small factory’s worth of fireworks, briefly enveloping us in a cloud of pink smoke. After a rather unspectacular display Xelaju lost once more, though this time in part due to a rather unfair looking penalty awarded to the other team.

Thursday weaving class was cancelled. I wasn’t too disappointed; I had been lured there in the first place by the promise that there was a risk the woman may fall into the loom, which sounded highly amusing.

I spent Friday evening helping Yoshi to cook dinner, which is held at school. On the menu was rice with shrimp and vegetables, it was delicious, probably more due to Yoshi’s cooking skills and the fact it didn’t have beans or eggs or corn, than that the vegetables were chopped and the shrimp peeled by an expert (me)! While everyone else went out, I retired early to prepare for the weekend.

At 4:15am I got out of bed and walked across town to the office of Quetzaltrekkers, from where a group of about 20 of us set off to climb Volcán Tajumulco, whose 4,220 m peak is not only the highest in Guatemala, but the highest in Central America. A crowded chicken bus put us in San Marcos for breakfast and another even more crowded bus put us in the middle of nowhere to begin walking.

Wearing a borrowed pack and carrying the dregs of the shared equipment (a six man tent which was very nearly bigger than the pack) I think I had more stuff hanging on the outside of my pack than I had in it. None the less the walking was not too difficult, though made more strenuous than you may expect by the altitude. After frequent stops we made it to camp at about 5pm under blue skies. Having set up, we walked to the top of the small peak next to Tajumulco proper. Two minutes from the top and 10 minutes before sunset the cloud rolled in and we didn’t see a thing (I have photos, but I’ll spare you them!). After dinner of pasta, followed by marshmallows over the fire we got quickly into bed, it was getting very cold and we had to get up early once more.

This morning’s rising time was a (slightly!) more respectable 4:45am. Tired and still enveloped in darkness (though under a fine display of stars) we walked the final hour to the top of Tajumulco with the sun rising behind us (I stopped to snap some of the pictures on the way up). We arrived at the summit just in time to see the sun peek above the horizon, and we spent quite some time is the freezing wind snapping photos and admiring the view which stretches across three ranges of volcanoes to the south, to Mexico in the north and to the Pacific in the west. Also of special note was the shadow that Tajumulco cast on the plains below, despite not looking very volcano shape from below, it’s shadow forms a near perfect pyramid.

Once everyone was suitable hypothermic we walked around the crater before descending back to camp for breakfast. The trip down was somewhat quicker and after another painful bus ride we arrived back in Xela around 4pm. Needless to say, I had a rather early night.

This afternoon’s activity was to San Andrés Itzapa whose main features are another home of San Simón and the intricately decorated church. We stayed long enough to watch another slightly different version of the same strange ritual and snap a couple of photos of the church before returning to Xela, where I now sit writing my impressions. But know it is dinnertime and I’m hungry so for this week that is all. ¡Adios!

Quetzaltenango

[Note: I've managed to misplace (more like forever lose I supsect) the CD that had all the photos from this part of my trip, hence this section has no photos, sorry...]

I got a bit sick and miserable in San Jose and left the afternoon after my last class. I got into Flores, had a wander round, retrieved the second set of stuff I'd left in the Internet cafe (including my guidebook, duh!) and wrote some emails. I tried to have a meal but couldn't get through it, so I killed some time for an hour or too talking to some Dutch guys before my bus was supposed to leave at 10pm. Figuring I may need the loo I'd paid for a second-class bus knowing that I had a 9-hour ride ahead (the third and subsequent classes have no loo). When I originally got on the bus there were only a handful of other people so I didn't sit in my allocated seat. A couple of stops later the guy whose seat I was apparently in got in a huff so I moved. I think that was one of the best moves I ever made. At the final stop before the last 7-hour leg to the capital a huge woman got on the bus and assumed her place next to the grumpy bloke who can't have had more than half a seat left to himself. I on the other hand was left with two seats to myself and even managed to get some sleep.

One the occasions I woke up and peered through the curtains there wasn't much to see, looking on the map now I don't even know which way we went. What I do know is we went up a long way; the last couple of hours seemed to be entirely up hill or a curvy road with many large trucks barrelling at us in the other direction.

When we arrived in Guatemala City it was just getting light. There was hardly anybody on the street and those people I did see were either there because I don't think they had a choice or because they were conducting business that didn't look in the least bit legal. All the houses had either no ground level windows or huge shutters. They were mostly dull concrete colours and many looked like they were liable to fall down at any stage. I abandoned my previous intention to walk to the other bus stop and instead spent (what I believe to be) a wise couple of dollars on a cab, which literally dropped me to the door of the bus that I wanted. Once again it made frequent stops on the way out of the city and quickly filled. And once again we kept climbing, bend after bend we climbed.

Every now and then I caught glimpses of volcanoes over the next range, their perfect symmetry is most appealing to the eye. After another 5 hours on the bus and some 14 hours after leaving Flores I get dropped in some obscure back street, apparently the closest the bus stops to the centre of town. I consulted my map, but with no street names on any of the streets that was a little useless. Instead I followed signs to the "centro" and eventually found my way to the central plaza. From there I picked up my spot on the map and headed for Sakribal, I figured if it looked like a nice school it would do, I already knew they were helpful.

However, to my dismay, when I arrived at the school it was all closed up and didn't look particularly occupied. I guessed maybe with the surfeit of schools appearing in Xela they had gone bust. But not fancying walking around all the schools to find an alternative I asked in the shop across the street. They had just moved premises the woman explained and gave me directions. Judging by the number of students there were at the new much nicer looking premises I guess the case was exactly just the opposite to what I figured. When I walked in the door a woman wearing a Scottish rugby top wandered up and introduced herself as Sharron from Scotland. I introduced myself as Matt from Australia, and like lightening she said, "Oh, you're the Matt who emailed a little while back." That sold me right then, I signed up, handed over my cash and by lunchtime I had a family!!

My family live on the hill above Xela about ten minutes walk from the school (as if Xela isn't high enough, by my calculations I'm living about 2400m above sea level, higher that any mountain in Australia, and Black Tusk!!). The view across the town from the hill is quite impressive, especially from the roof (where the dogs live, a German shepherd, a two month old malamute pup and something only just identifiable as a dog). Also from the town there is a view to Volcan Santa Maria, which stands nearly 4000m above sea level, looking over the city (it looks reassuringly dormant, but one near Antigua is spewing lava at the moment).

My family consists of more people than I can really get my head around. Starting with Mum, Monica, she has a husband, two young boys, her father, two sisters, two teenage nieces and two uncles all of whom live in the, thankfully rather large, house. I have a nice room to myself with a comfy bed and a small television. I get three meals a day, lunch being the main one, and quite a bit more variety that I experienced in San Jose, including beautifully marinated chicken or pork each lunch. My family are incredibly friendly and much more inclined to make conversation with me than my family in San Jose were. Each day I have around five different conversations with people as they come and go, and they are all very patient with my broken Spanish, and correct me in a most appropriate way. Talking to some of the other students at the school, and Sharron, it seems I've hit the jackpot. Sharron lived with them for about a month and she says they were some of the best she's had.

On Wednesday afternoon I visited one of the project houses belonging to Habitat for humanity who help finance and build (using volunteer labour) homes for people living in poverty. Looking at their statistics and the results they seem to do an excellent job. We were shown the new house of a lady and her family and her old house. Instead of paying rent for the tiny box they were living in she now has a new home, bigger, that will be paid off in 5 years using the money she no longer has to pay for rent. For Thursday and Friday I had classes in the afternoon with my young teacher Maibel, we play simple games and learn yet more verbs, I'm quite enjoying it. On Friday morning we had a talk from an ex-guerrilla about his time with the guerrillas from when he was 12 through to the final signing of the peace accords in 1996 and the struggle that Guatemalas poor (predominately Maya) are still undergoing. Some of the things he had to say were beyond imagination, it was most worthwhile.

In the evening we had dinner to see off old students and welcome new ones (me!). There are two other Melbournites at the school (both leaving) and two other Australians as well as people from a host of other countries. After dinner we hit a couple of bars and I had the lengthiest English conversations I've had since Mum and Dad left, it was most refreshing.

Yesterday I joined a volunteer group going to help on a Mayan agricultural project. We caught the bus about half an hour out of the city into the villages. We were put to work clearing corn stubs. I now have a new appreciation for the work these people do. I have a blister on my hand from wielding the machete, I was so covered in dust three showers later I'm still finding it and I've got a knot in my back the size of Luxembourg. Having made piles with the stalks, we bundled them and carried them a kilometre or two back to the village. Every time the wind blew we got hit by piles of dust and twice little dust devils blew straight through us. Last night I didn't go out, instead retiring early from the exhaustion of work and only 3 hours sleep the night before. This morning I did some study, then after lunch (delicious pork ribs), I wandered down here taking some photos. There is an artisans market in the plaza and I had a wander around, much of the stuff seems to look the same, but there are some nice bits and pieces, which I'll get around to buying closer to leaving. I start morning classes tomorrow and there's an assortment of activities in the afternoon to keep me busy.

San Jose

After mum and dad left I caught the bus back around the lake to San Jose. The bus (either a minibus or "chicken bus") leaves from the market in Santa Elena which is the commercial centre for Flores on the other side of the causeway. A 45min-1 hour trip, it costs 5 quetzales, which is less than a dollar. On the other hand, there are usually between 20 and 25 people to a 10-15 seater minibus and the road is almost entirely unmade.
Back in San Jose, Antonio the schools owner signed me up and I was shown to my family. Ana and Noe and their three sons (plus an assortment of other family who also live in the same area) live up the hill (a very steep one at that) from the town's central square. I have a separate apartment (shanty, whatever you want to call it) out the front. It has two small bedrooms and a kind of living area with a couple of chairs, a hammock and lots of photos etc. My room has a window, a bed (if you can call it that, it's only marginally more comfortable than the floor, which would be less lumpy, but as it is earthen, rather impractical for sleeping on), a pillow (see "bed"), a fan and a table.

My Street

Ana and Noe are very nice, but a little difficult to talk to because they are reluctant to ask questions of me (this make conversations rather difficult). Ana provides me with three meals a day, two of which I generally end up eating by myself. Only the men in the family eat in the dining room and except for dinner they keep different hours than I. For the most part I have been having some kind of corn cereal with hot powdered (and very sweet) milk and either fresh fruit or juice for breakfast. For lunch and dinner it is generally chicken with either rice, beans or cabbage (or some combination of the above), plus tortillas by the bucket load. By the time I return home I think I will run at the site of corn or any derivative thereof!!

My House

I start classes at 8am (except Sunday, my day off), and the school is literally on the other side of town (ironically I live right next door to San Jose's other Spanish school). My fifteen minute walk to school takes me down the steep hill to the centre of town, along the beach front and back steeply up the other side of town. Even at 8am in the morning I am generally sweating heavily by the time I get there, it is constantly humid here. My teacher is Antonio, the school's owner. He is very conscientious and knows enough English to make the learning a little easier (he can't string words together but can translate the basic verbs). In my first two days I covered almost everything that I have covered in all my other courses combined.

My Room (pieced together)

esterday we took a break and managed to make conversation for almost an hour with not too much difficulty. Each afternoon I have had an activity organised by the school. At the current point in time the school only has three students, two Norwegian girls and myself. Nonetheless Antonio organises activities for us. On Thursday Emilio, the school's tour coordinator) walked us up to San Jose's botanical gardens. They were established by a collective of the town's women (the town's population is predominantly Mayan, Emilio included), who now market the garden's medicinal crops. Emilio demonstrated not only an excellent knowledge of the uses of all the plants and trees, but managed to convey this information to we who understand very little Spanish.

The "sitting room"

On Friday we rode the schools bikes 4 kilometres out of town to the ruins of the Mayan of Mortul. The ruins are almost entirely unexcavated, but the plazas and some of the larger temples have been cleared and some of the stellaes unearthed. Once again Emilio demonstrated an excellent knowledge and expert delivery, making the trip most interesting. Yesterday Saturday, we hopped on the bus back to Santa Elena and walked to the Ac'tun Ka caves on the outside of the village. Emilio explained how some of the features had come to get their names and how the Maya used each of the chambers.

The View

The other event of note was the 15th birthday of Ana's niece yesterday. Fifteen is the significant number for girls who go from being Niñas to being Señoritas, its kind of a coming of age. On Friday night Ana came and warned me that due to the birthday celebrations they may let off firecrackers at 6 or 7 in the morning. Oh, very early I said, but no problem. No matter I thought to myself, my bladder has usually woken me up by then anyway and it was nice of her to warn me so I didn't think my house was being invaded. The next morning I awoke to the voices of people outside my bedroom. It was still dark and I rolled back over to go to sleep figuring the firecrackers would wake me before breakfast time. Just as I dozed back off the firecrackers started up. Despite the fact I was expecting them I still nearly jumped clean out of my bed. I looked at my clock to discover the party had started early - it was ten to four. For about ten minutes the firecrackers continued to nearly deafen me until they stopped and I figured they were out. Just as I was dozing off a second surprise awoke me. This time it was a stereo playing vocal birthday music accompanied by accordion as loud as the stereo would go. In my opinion the accordion has very little place in today's world during daylight hours, at four am it has no place whatsoever! To make matters worse whoever was in charge of the stereo favoured only three songs, which were played over and over. At a couple of points the stereo stopped and people sang (those three songs) instead. Each time the music quietened and I started to doze off once again, more firecrackers were let loose and I was brought violently back to consciousness. As I got up to shower at quarter to seven the music stopped!

I spent most of the day at school and visiting the caves, but it was clear that Ana and Noe were expecting many guests. On Thursday two large pigs had been slaughtered and on Friday they were butchered and set to marinate. The butchering was done outside my room, but much to my surprise/relief it didn't smell anywhere near as bad as I expected it to. When I returned home around dinnertime the same three songs were being repeated over and over, every time someone changed the music, the same songs were quickly put back on. Thankfully the party made up in part for its early beginning by coming to a conclusion early enough for me to catch up on some sleep. This morning I hopped on the bus once again (with 23 other people) and bumped into Santa Elena. I wandered around the market for about an hour. It is quite an impressive size, probably bigger than the Queen Vic, but it is difficult to tell because it winds through tiny passageways that often come to dead ends or emerge into obscure back streets. The array of goods on offer is dazzling, including an assortment of food, much of which I don't recognise (in many cases this may be because it doesn't even have a name in English). Also on offer is every personal and household good imaginable as well as a dazzling assortment of imitation American brand clothing for about 0.50c apiece. Despite the fact Antonio is an excellent teacher and San Jose is a beautiful town I think I will leave on Wednesday or Thursday. I am finding it a little lonely only having people to talk to during class (due to my difficulty extracting conversation from Noe and Ana) and the humidity is starting to wear on me. I have a syllabus and approval for credit from Melbourne Uni for a school in Quetzaltenango (Xela), which is in the highlands about 14hours bus ride from here. I've read that a lot of the Spanish schools in Xela contribute to community clean water supply programs so I think I'll investigate that. The weather there is supposed to be a little more pleasant and, probably to the detriment of my Spanish, there will be more gringos to talk to!