The Guatemala Highlands (and coastal lowlands)

(Jan 20, 2012)

Dear family and friends,

Currently traveling through the Guatemalan highlands, I feel as though I have been working non-stop since I arrived in this beautiful country! I breezed through the Belize/ Guatemala border and was quite happy to find that my Spanish had not suffered as much as I had thought from my English-speaking time in Belize!

                I hopped on a local bus to the Island of Flores, which is essentially a part of the city of Santa Elena in Northern Guatemala and a popular jumping off point to see the amazing Mayan ruins of Tikal. I spent about 4 days in Flores and, other than a day trip to see the ruins, I spent most of my time writing reports on the organizations that I have interviewed to date and coordinating future interview meetings with new and ICO-affiliated organizations throughout Guatemala. Due to the fact that most of the existing projects that ICO has with Latin American organizations are concentrated in Guatemala (and more specifically in the Lago Atitlan and Quetzaltenango regions), I have found myself in the thick of my work with many emails to write and meetings to coordinate! I love being busy but have been having a hard time finding time for myself – to sight see, relax, and meet travelers in the hostels I stay in. Unfortunately, for the time being, I am ‘That’ traveler (the one getting a suntan from the glow of the computer screen).  

                Tikal was beautiful, big and mysterious. For once, I found our guide to be informative and enthusiastic about his job and the site. We saw a few animals (coatimundis and tucans) and I clambered over ALL of the ruins that they would let me. It is almost like climbing every stair and touching every stone is my mission when I go to sites like this – I guess I don’t know what else to do in historic sites other than make sure I don’t miss a single piece. Tikal, I learned, is mysterious in that the Mayans had already deserted it by the time it was discovered by European explorers. Current theories regarding their mysterious evacuation revolve around the looming of resource scarcity due to unsustainable deforestation and farming practices, and the decline in the lands ability to sustain the burgeoning population. It struck me as a premonition for our current problems that persist on a global scale and left me wondering whether current societies could really learn from these past warnings, or whether we are too stubborn and proud to take it seriously – thus being doomed to follow the same path and 'learn' from experience.

                While I generally found Flores to be very uninspiring as an island essentially dedicated to housing Tikal-bound tourists, I did witness one of the greatest firework shows while I was there. Words cannot describe…

On my first night in Flores I found myself wandering around the central park with a friend whom I had met in the hostel I was staying at. We had heard about some sort of festivity and decided to go check it out. We began to notice a commotion around two wooden structures that had been fashioned to look like bulls, covered in (what I thought were) colourful pieces of confetti. Soon after we saw a local may stoop down to lift one of these large structures onto his back. The crowd started to back away. I (of course) moved closer to get a better look at what was happening. To say that this man was then lit to shoot fireworks from his back would be an understatement. And before you worry about the welfare of this explosive-carrying man – it is important to understand that he was the safest person in the park. The sound from the bull (‘El Torrito’) was deafening and drew our attention as we watched the radiant man prance up and down the crowded park boulevard. His back was electric with firecrackers and I watched with excitement and laughed nervously in time with the shrieks of excitement growing around me. El Torito charged at the group and then retreated; He chased children, only to have them chase him as he charged in the other direction – not to miss a single bystander. Then came the fireballs. In utter amazement (and slight terror) I watched as El Torito fired brilliantly coloured red and green FIREBALLS from his back into the crowd. The scene felt more like a war zone than a firework display. I watched as people ran away from the fireballs and the advancing bull (devil?) in terror. The red balls shone dramatically through the tree leaves – threatening to catch the whole park on fire. I watched adults dashing away with green fireballs landing in their hair, covering their faces to muffle their shrieks of terror and laughter. The crowd moved in herds, cowering behind food stalls and park benches to get away from the advancing bull. And then he would turn and the crowd would follow him, to watch as he terrorized another poor group of bystanders. Delirious with adrenaline and disbelief, the show ended with the most brilliant display of fireworks I had ever seen – largely because they were so low over the crowd. As we looked up, pieces of still burning embers rained down around us.

This would never happen in Canada. The El Torito show was repeated twice every night that I was in the city and it was one of the only luxuries I allowed myself. Every night around 7pm I would pack up my computer and gather whatever group of new hostel arrivals I could find. ‘Just trust me’, I repeated every night ‘this will be the best show you have ever seen’. All were skeptical but not a single person that I recruited could deny that I had been right.

Of course, there were a few casualties (as one would expect from such a display). One girl that I brought up got a fireball to the cheek, but it fizzled and went out quickly rather than creating any serious damage. There were a few burned shirts and a few daredevils who followed closely at the heels of El Torito, stumbling out of the war zone looking like disoriented dalmations.

A quick turn of events caused me to leave Flores in a hurry and travel to the South Eastern coast of Guatemala, to a city called Rio Dulce. The purpose of my visit was to meet with and interview a local indigenous-run organization situated there, called Ak’ Tenamit. When I arrived in town I was met by one of Ak’ Tenamit’s employees. I was driven by boat along the beautiful lush river, with its shorelines dotted by the thatched roofs of indigenous houses (and tourist-directed imitations). The hostel I stayed at was beautiful and more of a boutique hotel than a hostel (though it only cost me $5 CDN a night to sleep in the dorms, which I had to myself). Called Finca Tatin, it was situated in a very secluded spot along one of the rio’s tributaries and had been selected by me due to its close proximity to Ak’ Tenamit’s sites. I had been told ahead of time that transportation to and from the main city was prohibitively expensive and that food at the hostel restaurant was delicious but expensive. I came prepared with the only non-perishable thing I could find in the market: kraft-like white bread and jam from a squeeze tube; a few bananas and oranges, and cookies. I stuck to my guns and lived off of this awful, awful assortment for the next 2.5 days. Why, you ask? It seems like a theme of this trip is about self-deprivation (how little can I spend, how little do I need). A pretty fun game and interesting exercise for someone coming from a place (Canada) where consumption and indulgence is a way of life.

The first day I spent in the area was great – I was picked up by Ak’ Tenamit and was taken on a tour of the various sites along the river, learning about the education and artisan programs maintained by the organization. I was able to take a quick trip to Livingston, a nearby Garifuna-influenced seaside town and jumping off point for travel to Belize, to see the restaurant that the organization operates there as an occupational teaching ground for students and a subsistence funding source for the organization.

I returned to Finca Tatin to do some research on my other upcoming projects in Guatemala and to type up the notes taken on the tour. My tour guide, Eduardo, spoke very little English and so I would estimate that I understood about 40-60% of what was actually said. There was, however, a lot of nodding and sign language and it was a great opportunity to improve my Spanish.

The following day I had arranged to meet with Steve, the organization’s director. I waited for him for 3 hours. I then called him to find out whether he was still coming and he said he’d be there in 10 minutes. I waited for another 3 hours before giving up and taking the last tourist ferry to Rio Dulce. I figured that things would be better once I could get some real food in me, access the internet, and plan my next steps into Guatemala. Regardless of the missed connection, my trip to Rio Dulce was not wasted and I was able to learn about some of Ak’ Tenamits programs and had the chance to dash through a local Castle that had been erected to ward off pirate attacks and hold prisoners. I took a long and VERY bumpy 7 hour bus ride to Lanquin, where I stayed for two nights to visit the amazing Samuc Champey site and swim through a candle lit cave. While I have tried a variety of ways to reconnect with Steve, he seems to be avoiding my attempts at contact and has not returned my e-mails. My report will reflect the unprofessional nature of the organization and the difficulties associated with communications. It will also reflect, however, the great work that Ak’ Tenamit is doing within the community and the strong business model they seem to have to use fiscally supporting ventures as work and education opportunities for local community members. I will withhold my personal offence from the report, and only present relevant information.

                The day tour I took to Samuc Champey was fun. The group of us from the El Retiro hostel dashed through a deep and waterlogged cave, scaling rock walls, climbing waterfalls, and bobbing through flowing river – all with our candles held over our heads. We got out of the cave just as the flames licked at our fingers. Close one.  We tubed down the fridged river (Lanquin and Samuc Champey are up in the Guatemala highlands – essentially in a perpetual cloud) and hiked up a near vertical climb to view the pools of Samuc Champey from above. While the pools were beautiful, they reminded me of the sooke potholes and thus my favorite part of the tour was the wild and wonderful cave component! Very different from my past experiences!

                From Lanquin I took a bus to Coban, where I am now staying in a beautiful little hotel called Casa Luna. I have the sunny dorm room all to myself and have had a good time wandering the vibrant city. Here in Coban, every street, it seems, is lined with vendors as the market threatens to take over the whole city. As my judgement of a city is generally based on the market’s vibrancy, Coban is doing pretty well on the scale. I am so relieved to finally be in a normal city – one that is built and operates for the people that live there, rather than for the tourists who parade through. I will stay here for one more night before heading on to Quetzaltenango to stay with a couchsurfer and conduct a variety of interviews with both new and ICO-affiliated organizations there.

                I hope you are all enjoying the snow in your various parts of the country! I love snow and wish I could have just a piece of it!

Lots of Love,

Robin