The Belizean Vibe

I’ve been here for eight weeks now. Seems like an adequate amount of time to get the feel for a place. And it feels good here. Belize will forever be a place that elicits a smile from me when mentioned. It’s a place where the people are welcoming and friendly and resilient. Where there are zero resources and inadequate governing and an inability to meet the needs of its people. And yet - this country is alive and always striving towards something better. It’s a more simple life here without a lot of pretense. The people keep themselves busy, the movement is constant, and yet - life swirls at a slower pace than the western world. People in professional capacities advocate for more of everything for those who need it and swing back and forth between feeling hopeless and determined. Kids and adults swim and bathe in the local Macal River, bikes ride over the dusty, pot-holed roads, and the major highways (really a two-lane road) are lined with children of all ages walking home in their school uniforms. Street food (rice, beans, and chicken) is sold under colored umbrellas at most corners and little burrito shops can be found on most streets, enticing locals and tourists alike with their fresh watermelon and papaya juices. Creole is shouted back and forth between most locals and fans of Bob Marley, sporting the dread-lock hair style, eagerly await Gringos to pass by their table of hand beaded jewelry. Old American school buses chug along the narrow town center streets, headed east towards the capitol and Belize City, or west towards the Guatemalan border. And taxis are everywhere, drivers shouting out to foreign bodies, even the ones they see everyday. Dogs roam the dirty grass strips on the side of the roads looking for vacant food containers, all too scrawny, too dirty, and too sad. Chickens cluck in front yards and along the highways, roosters crow at random times, and lots of people walk around barefoot. Reggae club music can be heard thumping in the two local clubs most nights and the bizarre “punta” dancing is a sight to behold in the infamous Faya Wata club. Small grocery stores that are run exclusively by Chinese people sell fresh made tortillas and Coca Cola Light. The buses are way too crowded and stop way too often along the side of the road to drop off and pick up, and there doesn’t seem to be a speed limit in Belize. Or too many rules. People help each other out and generosity is the name of the game. The heat is paralyzing, most days it’s an ever-present companion. And when it rains, it rains hard - flooding one of the two bridges in short time, and creating waterfalls which run down along the big hill into town. People sit in hammocks or on front porches, or in their cars - wherever they find shade. And not a lot happens that people don’t pass around like gossip fresh off the newsstand. There are still flags hanging up, remnants of Septembers parties and signs that say, “Standing proud and moving forward, I am Belize.” Pick-up trucks pack in locals in the back like sardines, football (soccer) is played nightly, and there is an energy to the movement of the town.

And just as San Ignacio has it’s own vibe - so does Caye Caulker. I spent the weekend there again and realized for the second time, how incredibly peaceful and beautiful it is. It’s laid back in a way that cannot even compete with the rest of Belize. It seems only tourists wear shoes, and even the hello’s come across lazy and drawn-out. If there was a sign to help the tourists when getting off the boat, it would read, “SLOW DOWN.” I like the tamale guy that walks around the island with his cart shouting “Tamales, I’ve got hot tamales!” And I like the Bread Guy - he walks around with a tray of fresh baked banana bread in the morning and an assortment of desserts in the afternoon. I like the Lazy Lizard at The Split, where actual lizards (huge ones - the size of cats) live under the foundation and come out when it’s safe. I like that the water is five different shades of blue, that people fish for yellow snapper with just a line and some bait off the beach’s edge, and reggae music is played all day long, everywhere. They’ve even managed to put Cher songs into Reggae stylings. I like the nice locals who park themselves on the side of the narrow main road, asking to braid your hair, sell you coconut jewelry, or get you to eat lobster at their shack that night for ten percent off. I love all the competing snorkel and dive shops, the Rastafarian colors, and the large proportion of dread-lock wearing locals. There’s not a whole lot not to like about the island.

I like it here. I like the way Belize moves. And I like the way Belize celebrates. The month of September was impressive with all of the official celebrations and the culmination of Independence Day on the 21st. (I will never forget my jaunt in the parade!). But there is an air of celebration to even those things that are not official, such as birthday parties, baby showers, funerals, and volunteer appreciation day. I’ve participate in my share of activities and it’s been great. Last week I participated in World Mental Health Week, here in Belize and to kick-off the celebration we had a balloon lift-off. Hundreds of yellow and orange and white balloons floated into the blue sky on a warm Wednesday afternoon. This was after the speeches, the guitar-playing entertainment, and the address given by a patient who suffers from mental illness. All pretty cool. While I’m sure there’s more excitement on the near horizon, I’m looking forward to Garifuna Day - on November 19. Another cultural experience. Another celebration. Another uniquely Belizean experience.

Some pictures

Spelunking the ATM...(No, not the Cash Machine)

Saturday October 2, 2010

Coolest. Thing. I’ve. EVER. Done. Period.

I almost can’t find the right words to describe how awesome of an adventure I had. Truly unforgettable. Actun Tunichil Muknal, or ‘ATM’ as it’s referred to, is one of the most adventurous things you can do in Belize - the trip takes you deep into the underworld that the ancient Maya called Xibalba. Our rickety little bus left San Ignacio at 7:30am and drove over an hour along the Western Highway towards Teakettle Village. We hiked for about 45 minutes through the jungle-like forest, on partially visible trails and earned a short lesson on botany while catching glimpses of rare butterflies - like the Owl Butterfly. We had to cross three rivers which were shallow (waist high) and not terribly wide. I think a few of us might have squealed with delight and we waded into the first river...there is something so completely thrilling about being on an adventure where you have to wade across water. With the first step in, as water fills your sneakers, rising up to soak your shorts - there is a moment when your brain tells you to ‘stop, something’s not right, we walk over water, not through it.’ But then you remember quickly that it’s all part of the adventure, and soon find yourself standing in the middle of Roaring River, looking in both directions on an endless ribbon of water, and you feel giddy standing there on those slippery rocks, fish swimming figure-eights around your ankles.

In short time, we made it to the wide, hourglass-shaped entrance of the ancient cave which is surrounded by lush jungle and beautiful pools of water with moss-covered rocks. It feels completely untouched and undisturbed and yet alive with the history of the ancient Maya who used the caves as their sacred spot - a bit like from the book of a childhood fairytale...utterly enchanting. We donned our helmets complete with headlamps, and dove into a slightly frosty 20-foot deep pool. After a brief swim into the caves, our feet touched rock and for the next three miles, we twisted and turned our way through the underground labyrinth, swimming, walking, and climbing our way deeper and deeper.

Giant shimmering flowstone rock formations left our mouths open in wonder, and in the next turn of the bend, we were awed by thick calcium-carbonate stalactites dripping from the ceiling. Water rushed around us, pooling in some places and moving with a fast current like a waterfall in other places. Our headlamps illuminated stalagmites growing up from the cave floor (in phallic arrangement), and tiny bats flew around the tall ceiling. It was massive inside the caves, kind of like a mountain that was hollowed out with an airiness reminiscent of gigantic ballrooms. It was mind boggling to think that we were underground, as anti-claustrophobic as it was.

At one point, our guide had us turn off our head lamps and clasp the right shoulder of the person in front of us - forming a human chain. At this point, he then lead us (in the dark) for about 15 minutes, us sloshing through the water, him chanting in Mayan - on our way to the sacred temple. It was unbelievable. In the darkest kind of dark, where you have to touch your eyes to believe that they are really open because it’s the same dark behind your lids as it is with your eyes wide open, we silently wormed our way through the cave, invoking the spirits of a past world. Most of us felt the hairs raise up on our necks - felt the presence of more than seven of us in those caves.

Finally, we reached the massive opening where we climbed up rocks to dry land, took our shoes off, and in sock-clad feet, moved gingerly about the hundreds of ancient pottery vessels and shards, and the few human remains. Some of the pottery was still intact and set in their offering, ritualistic fashion. One of the most shocking displays was a calcite-encrusted skeleton of a woman for whom ATM (Cave of the Stone Sepulcher) is named for.

ATM was discovered in 1989, and some of the artifacts found inside date back to at least 600AD. They believe to have about 200 ceramic vessels and the skeletal remains of about 14 humans (seven of them children), all almost certainly sacrificial victims to the gods. The legend says it was probably the rain god Chac (who dwelt in caves) that the Maya people offered sacrifices to in a time when the drought was severe in the second half of the 9th century.

Our journey back out of the cave labyrinth seemed to go more quickly than the trek in. Maybe we had become experts at rock climbing, our feet finding solid ground more easily in the waist high water pools of the caves. Because, somehow, when we saw the light of day at the opening of the cave and the enchanted forest came into view, it felt like those three hours of spelunking had flown by in mere moments. We were a lot quieter on the trek back through the forest and through the rivers too - but when I looked back over my shoulder at the stragglers behind me, I saw that each of them had a huge smile on their face. Yeah - we were all thinking the same thing. Coolest. Thing. Ever.

Hurricane Matthew

He's on his way. Right now, he's just TS Matthew - Tropical Storm Matthew, off the coast of Nicaragua, and he's headed towards Belize. Apparently, after he reaches Honduras, he finds his way into Belize's warm water which makes him super happy and he decides to become a "hurricane" rather than a tropical storm. The reports say that he'll hit Belize on Sunday and will be somewhere between a Category 1 - Category 5 hurricane. How exciting!!

I feel completely safe, being so far inland, and living up on a hill, which is why I can say that this is a bit of a thrill. It's funny how the Universe works - we were meant to be going back to Caye Caulker this weekend, the island off the coast. It's a good thing we didn't because they're evacuating the islands as I write this. It's been on and off torrential tropical downpours all day - and the sky has looked somewhat ominous. We had a "hurricane meeting" and made a list of all our supplies and headed off to the local Three Flags Chinese Shop (this is where we buy groceries, etc). Batteries - check. Water - check. Mac and cheese - check. Cookies - check. We loaded up on food and essentials, and felt a bit like scavengers...the isles were packed, the energy was frenetic, and people were out en masse, all preparing for doomsday.

Walking down the giant hill into town, I noticed people boarding up windows and tying things down. In the internet cafe - it's packed, everyone sending off messages before the town's electricity will be just a wish. There's already an air of restlessness moving itself through the community - or maybe it's just in our volunteer house. Plans all had to be canceled for the weekend and the five of us are faced with, well...just the five of us. We're all hoping the television stays current until at least Sunday, because last night we already made it through Pictionary and Battle of the Sexes - not sure how many more games we can can take!

In any case - whether Matthew decides to show up in all his glory, or he passes by with just a whisper of a hello - this has been fun. It's been a new experience I've never been a part of before - something essentially tropical and completely unfathomable - until it happens. It's been nine years since the last important threat of a hurricane hit Belize. Seems like the Universe was listening when I said I wanted new adventures! New adventures for sure - and safety for all.

"I Am Belize"

Well - at least we’re the same age. Tuesday was Belize’s 29th birthday - Independence Day - and the culmination of September’s festivities. Monday night at midnight, fireworks lit up the black sky again, music jammed in the streets, Flayva’s and Faya Wada’s (the clubs) were hoppin’, and the locals were groovin’. Belizeans know how to party! Tuesday afternoon, what felt like the entire country, gathered along the narrow streets of San Ignacio and Santa Elena, to watch the procession of gaudy-wonderful floats, each blaring their own hip-hop dance club mix, creep through the city. The parade took three and a half hours and dressed in Cornerstone Foundation t-shirts, waving Belizean flags, we danced our way through the crowded streets. We sang, we danced, we threw candy, we handed out brochures, and we did the “Waka Waka” - gotta love Shakira!

It was an endless parade of floats - a sea of blue, red, and white crepe paper, balloons, and flags. I glimpsed signs that read, “Happy Birthday Belize!”, “Stand Proud, and Shout Loud - I Am Belize!” Children ran in the streets waving, their little cheeks sporting rub-on tattoos of the Belizean flag. There wasn’t a square to spare - not a single open place to stand along each street. Some people hung out of their windows and balconies, others stood on top of cars and trucks parked in front lawns, and some danced their way through the streets with us - moving from one float to the next. It was a cacophony of Belizean festivities.

Our float might not have won any prizes, but we were proud nonetheless. Streamers blew in the breeze, balloons hung from the railings, and a huge sign about our feeding program glittered in the sun. We had a lively group of women and children (with even a couple men) who brought up the rear - dance party style! I think our music was the loudest and our candy the best!

It was such a cool experience to bear witness to such an intense celebration - to a community so alive and committed to their patriotism. The energy was electric and I think that all of us volunteers felt a part of the event. We sank deeply into plastic chairs at Mr. Greedy's to share a pizza as the sun went down....so tired but happy to have pulled it all off. Cheers to Belize - happy birthday!

Pictures...

Some pictures from San Pedro, Guatemala - and then leaving to head to Belize!






Some pictures from Caye Caulker - the island off the coast of Belize...

The Storm after The Calm

The last two weeks have been what we were told to expect - full of a whole lot of nothing. That’s not entirely true - but the last couple of days, I’ve read three full novels and although I’m loving how my library keeps expanding, I’m getting restless to do something profound. Today was the day - it exploded!

In true Belizean fashion - there was no warning. This morning I met with the director of the foundation to talk about perhaps doing something internal while I waited to see what external volunteering would come my way. I walked away from the meeting with the distinct impression that I’d been ‘handled.’ Like when you pay a cab driver $50 for a trip that was meant to be $10 and they drive away with a loud “Woohoo!!!” Looks like I’m going to be re-vamping their Volunteer Program here at the foundation. I’m to create a comprehensive Volunteer Manual, stream-line the current program, paperwork and information, organize the program areas and work with the woman who does the website to change the information. It all sounded really exciting to the part of my brain that’s a neurotic, obsessive-compulsive-personality-disordered, controlling, organizing freakshow. And then...

I received a call from the local women’s shelter, Mary Open Doors, for a meeting in the afternoon. I met with the head of the board who was thrilled to have “western professionals” and it looks like they would like me to work for them in a consulting capacity. I gathered that this means I will be helping them organize and streamline their current efforts, implement new programs and build relationships with the schools for the children who are experiencing violence in the home, and provide consultation regarding specific domestic violence cases. They need assistance with everything - from establishing intake paperwork to training for their crisis counselors to providing ideas for funding and community resources. And then...

The foundation received phone calls from the Chairmen of four outlying villages around San Ignacio - to do presentations in their communities. They want parenting workshops - and as the resident psychologist, I was voted in. But thankfully, Helen got dragged into this venture too and will be headlining with me, talking about healthy relationships and domestic violence while I focus on parenting education and skills. The excitement of reaching the outer villages was buzzing in the office and before I could escape, I found myself signed up to do two more workshops here in San Ignacio for the Women’s Group on parenting as well. I got to fumble my way through Microsoft Publisher and made some rockin’ flyers - ready to send out to the villages tomorrow morning!! (I was clearly working on Western time here).

And just in case I don’t feel busy enough - I have a meeting scheduled with the president of the local hospital to work in their mental health department. She’s been waiting for me to get a copy of my degree faxed here and assumes I will be a full-time addition to their over-worked counselors. And there’s a social worker in the schools who thinks I’m going to be providing some aid in her direction to ease the burden of her 30+ caseload. Oh, and I almost forgot - there’s the lovely 18 year old who I promised to teach how to read and write.

BOOM!! That’s the sound of the storm after the calm. What a riot!! I love it....I love the energy of it - how it swirls around in bursts of exciting movement towards change and progress for both agencies and individuals in this wonderful community. I have no doubt my hands will be full - actually, I think they might even be invisible. But I’m also certain that I will be involved in projects that are sustainable and life-changing. Ready or not, here I come!

Learning to Wait...

“So the presentation will start at 1:30pm then? But really around 2:00 Belizean time right?”

That was the program manager for Cornerstone Foundation on the phone today, talking to the Chairman of one of the outlying villages (Bullet Hill Falls) about the presentation I will be doing on the 23rd of the month. Hilarious.

Belizean time is its own phenomenon here. Being here so far has been an experience in learning to wait, learning to be patient, and then waiting some more. Belizeans have this unspoken AND spoken tradition of never being on time, of meetings starting late, and of getting things done...later. And ‘later’ can mean in a few hours, a few days, or maybe never. It was something the foundation warned us about, even told us to prepare for - but how does one prepare for something so ambiguous?

It’s really hard to grasp until you’re in it - the lightbulb clicks when you’re sitting in the women’s group at 3pm thinking maybe you got the time wrong - and then the ‘early bird’ shows up at 3:25pm, saying, “Oops, I think I’m early!” (No dear, actually you’re 25 minutes late and you’re the first one here - but this is Belize!!) Making appointments with agencies in the community feels like I’m playing a game of frogger - the conversation proceeds with jerky movements, back and forth, never quite sure what the other person is proposing. - I’m really looking forward to meeting with you to discuss how I can be helpful to your agency. What time works for you? Sure, I can do 2pm. Now, do you want me to show up at 2 or at 2:30? Oh, whenever? Okay......so should we just say 2 then? Yeah sounds good, I guess I’ll just see you when I see you. Looking forward to it -

The truly hilarious thing about this cultural shift is that even if I tried my best to give up my western ways and showed up to appointments ‘late’ or on Belizean time - I’d still find myself waiting. Or if it’s raining out - maybe they’d just never show up. Or maybe I find myself meeting with someone different (that’s been fun!). It’s a bit of a circus, a no-win-perplexing-confusing-mind-boggling-hysterical adventure into the culture of Belize.

The other volunteers who’ve been here awhile look at me with a mix of sympathy and condescension - “You’ll get the hang of it eventually”....... Brilliant. I know. Now, when you say eventually....do you mean later or never?!

Paradise - Belizean Style

It’s 2:30 in the afternoon and I’m sitting in the hammock on our balcony up on the big hill - overlooking most of San Ignacio. From my vantage point, the only thing I can see in front of me is a makeshift flagpole with two white rags tied to the end, flapping in the breeze. The fact that they are moving at all is a great sign...any kind of breeze to cut through the heat is something to rejoice at. But I was sitting here wondering what this “flag” was for, who put it up, what it represents?....Is it a surrender, a political statement, or merely a tool to see where the wind is coming from? Interesting. Everywhere else in Belize, the country flags are waving and posted around in great abundance. Small and large towns alike are preparing for the big celebration this coming weekend and into next week. It’s St. George’s Day this weekend, and this kicks off a huge 10-day festival to commemorate the founding of Belize and all sorts of important national pride moments. There’s activities, parades, fireworks, music in the streets, and even more lively entertainment than usual. San Ignacio is meant to come alive in a way we haven’t seen yet...how exciting!

So far, I’ve thought that San Ignacio and it’s sister city, across the flooded river, Santa Elena, have been vivid representations of Belizean culture - fully alive with street venders offering hot barbecue, tamales, and burritos, children playing, dogs barking, roosters crowing, pick-up trucks chugging up hills, locals selling avocados and plantains, and most everyone trying to find a shady spot to escape the ever-present heat.

This weekend we found a fantastic way to embrace the tropical heat - we went to the coast! A three-hour bus ride to Belize City and an hour-long water taxi ride found us on the pier of Caye Caulker, an island off the coast of Belize. The Caribbean water was five different shades of turquoise and the reggae music floated on the breeze. It was, quite simply - paradise. Our little shack of a hotel sat on the water’s edge and the first night the four of us girls laid on the dock watching the lightening show against the midnight backdrop while trillions of stars twinkled in a view that I haven’t seen in a really long time. Saturday brought an adventure of a life-time! We spent the whole day out on a sailboat, stopping at three different locations to snorkel. The first stop at The Reef was a bit like being in the movie, “Finding Nemo.” I actually saw Dory. And about a thousand other fish of every shape, color, and size, moving in and out of their coral neighborhoods, purple sea leaves floating, green grasses moving, and orange coral shining. It was spectacular! The reef is apparently the second largest one in the world after The Great Barrier Reef in Australia. Pretty cool.

The second stop was to Shark Ray Alley - and for the first time in my life, I swam with sharks! And stingrays, and barracudas, and ginormous (ugly) fish...beyond incredible. Our guide fed the sharks and rays some tiny fish so they would have something more appetizing than human flesh to get excited about. And I even got to touch the rough skin of a nurse shark and the slimy exterior of a stingray. I was constantly inhaling salt water because I couldn’t stop laughing in total amazement of what I was seeing! Our guide swam to the bottom and picked up a big conch shell and stuffed it with fish, setting it loose while the sharks and rays fought over the prize at the bottom of the ocean floor...quite a scene!

Our final stop was at Hoi Chan - the small channel where we swam with sea turtles and around more coral reefs. We found a sea cave and watched a few brave members of our group fill their lungs with extra oxygen before venturing through the tunnel, a school of huge fish trailing behind. On the ride back to the island, we soaked up the sun, drank rum punch, and needless to say, sat in awe of our day. Saturday night we joined new friends from England for dinner and then headed to a traditional reggae bar for music and rum punch! Bob Marley played on the loud speakers and we swung on wooden swings that the bar had substituted for chairs, our feet in the sand covered floor...having a blast.

Sunday we spent the day lounging in the sun and in the ocean. We spent most of our time at The Lazy Lizard at The Split. The split is exactly what it sounds like - the part of the island that was split when Hurricane Hattie came in 2006. It’s created a section of the island that is now separated by a small channel and is mostly a nature preserve. It’s also created a beach-type area with varying levels of water to play in. This is the northernmost part of the tiny island and a very chill place to be. By the time the water taxi pulled away from the pier at 4pm on Sunday afternoon, we all felt completely filled up from our island adventure...ready to head back to San Ignacio, but certain that we will return soon to the Cayes.

It’s Tuesday as I write this, and the last two days have been filled with meeting the Cayo District social worker, drafting relevant resumes, and helping out with the feeding program. I’m also involved with teaching an 18 year-old girl how to read and write - finding that getting to play school is pretty fun. I like giving star stickers! Tonight after a volunteer meeting, the kitchen will be our playground - a Belizean feast of bean and cheese quesadillas, homemade guacamole and salsa on the menu.

San Ignacio, Belize

It’s hard to put into words how incredibly light one’s spirit feels when helping others. I think it may have to do with the fact that whatever we give, we receive...so giving love and patience and kindness brings all of that right back in a swirly haze of lightness, hitting us right in the core of our spiritual foundation, throwing us a bit off balance in a wonderful kind of way.

My first day at Cornerstone was this kind of day. Last night, after a round of games and laughter with my four other housemates, I slept hard and deep while my inner thermometer tried to regulate my internal body temperature with the external blistering heat. I awoke to roosters crowing, trucks zooming by, and the sound of life on the streets. These first two weeks, we’re meant to sit back, take it all in, watch, listen, and decide how we want to make a difference. But in the meantime, there are things to jump on board with - such as the feeding program.

This foundation cooks for and delivers hot lunches to approximately 91 school children in the town and about 10 elders in the community. Today, we got to be a part of that small miracle. We helped load the rice and beans, potato salad, and chicken into containers, loaded the back of the pick-up truck, and set off. At Santa Elena school, we handed out the lunches to the flock of children in green and yellow jumpers, feeling a bit like caged animals, backed against the wall in the face of hungry kids. They were the loveliest kids - shy and belligerent, grateful and demanding, satisfied and still hungry, and playful and thrilled to see new faces. I get the sense that being a gringo baring food in front of 30+ kids is a lot like being rockstars at a concert. We went on to deliver the food to the elders, had a nice tour of the town, and then came back to the Foundation to sit in front of fans and in the hammock. Later this afternoon we’ll join the Women’s Group to participate in a presentation about AIDS and offer support and answer questions. There really is no limit to how one can make a connection here.

I feel incredibly lucky to be here - the people are brilliant, the opportunities are endless, and there’s nothing like seeing a new part of the world for the first time. There are five of us in the house - two girls in their young 20’s from San Francisco who know each other, Beth and Sarah, and Mario, also from the Bay area, by Berkeley, in addition to Helen and I. Mario’s gig is at the local hospital, Beth is in a special needs classroom at the local school (where we dropped off lunch), and Sarah is working with AIDS outreach. I’ve heard that there’s a women’s shelter in town, Mary Open Doors, that deals with domestic violence and that the children at this shelter are in need of counseling. My resume seems destined for this possibility, but I will keep my options open this week and see where I fit best. The Universe puts all kinds of marvelous things in our path if we’re willing to take a leap...so I trust that no matter where I end up offering my services, I will indeed be making a difference in this world.

San Marcos La Laguna

Spanish school ended on Friday and with the weekend staring us in the face, we decided to hop to another part of Lake Atitlan. Saturday we took a 10 minute boat to San Marcos (population 3,000). San Marcos is known as the prettiest of the lake-side villages with a lush tropical, botanical feel. It´s also known for its yoga retreats and general hippie atmosphere. Disembarking at the dock, which was partially underwater from all the rain, we were met by a young boy who took it upon himself to show us the way into town and to the hotel we were headed to. He spoke broken English, quite similar in excellence to our Spanish, and he was very sweet. He took us the backway through the village, walking on dirt paths, through forested areas and ferns the size of large children. We eventually arrived at Paco Real, and found a room. The boy left happily with a few Quetzales in his pocket and we collapsed on our beds.

Sunday we had a lovely lazy breakfast at Fe, owned by an Englishman with a penchant for chain smoking and leather loafers. The food is pricey by Guatemalan standards ($4.50 - 7.00 for an entree) but was fresh and delicious. Helen and I enjoyed the rainforest atmosphere, sitting outside with our tea, and then we took a boat back to San Pedro, hoping to find the ATM before our day trip to Santiago and the market. Unfortunately, the two ATM´s in San Pedro were empty, so we decided to take a leap of faith and head to Santiago anyway, hoping for the best. Running down the pier to catch the boat that was drifting out of the dock, it felt like a scene out of the movie. The locals on board were yelling at us to hurry and waving their hats and laughing...we made it, landing on a bag of avocados! We sat on the roof of the boat and watched village life go by on the hour ride.

Sanitago was beautiful! The market held every kind of Guatemalan treasure one could possibly desire, from handmade clothing to beaded jewelry, fabrics, and elehphants made from precious stone. We were stymied once again with an empty ATM, so we perused the markets with our eyes only. (Turns out the ATM´s are only filled once a day at 4pm and not on the weekends, so by Sunday afternoon, they´re apparently empty). We had enough currency for vegetarian tacos, filling our empty tummies and then hopped back on the boat to return to San Pedro. Thankfully, The Buddha Bar, one of our favorite San Pedro hangouts was willing to change American currency for Quetzales so we could get back to San Marcos and our hotel, and be able to have dinner. Our adventures weren´t over yet, however, because as we got to the dock we were informed we´d missed the last boat, so we had to pay for a private trip to San Marcos. Granted it was only $7 per person for the trip, but that was highway robbery by Guatemalan standards. Ah well, I was happy to think of the nice supplement we´d provided to the boatman´s daily wages.

Once back in San Marcos, Helen and I returned to Fe for dinner and started the feast with a huge bowl of guacamole! We got back to Paco Real around 6:45pm to find the outside gate already locked and no one around. Cue Helen climbing over the gate in Indiana Jones style and thankfully running into another couple who had a key to the gate so it could be unlocked before I had to launch myself over it. We collapsed into our beds in fits of laughter over the ridiculously hilarious day of adventures we´d had.

It´s Monday, early noon here, and after a lovely breakfast of strawberry pancakes with honey, we have come back to San Pedro. We´ll be picking up our luggage in a bit, having some tacos for lunch, and then hopping a boat to Panachel at 3pm. How we´re going to get all of our things down the steep rocky path and hoisted onto the small boat, I have no idea. Once in Panachel, we board a mini-bus for the 5 hour drive to Guatemala City, arriving around 8 or 9pm. There we board a large coach bus which will take us, through the night, to Flores, Guatemala, which is by Tikal and the boarder of Belize. We should arrive around 6 or 7am tomorrow morning. Then it´s finding another bus to cross over into Belize and on to San Ignacio and Cornerstone Foundation. Quite the ride we have ahead!!

I´ve enjoyed Guatemala so immensely, I´m a bit hesistant to leave. But I know I can find my way back here again...as I´m sure I will. Time to get the gear ready for the next phase of this adventure!

¡Adios!

Thrills and Chills

What does one get in Guatemala for $3.00 (with the addition of sheer ironman strength)?? The thrill of a lifetime!!! Yesterday, after a morning full of conjugating Spanish verbs and learning how to give directions in Spanish, Helen and I, along with a group of new friends from New Zealand - we call them "The Kiwis" - rented kayaks, $3.00 for two hours. We kayaked across Lake Atitlan, about 2 miles to San Marcos, another small lakeside village where we tied our kayaks to the rocks and then climbed to these ridiculously steep cliffs. Once on top of the cliffs, we set all fear aside and JUMPED! Never been cliff diving before - never been so scared in my life - never had that much of an adrenaline rush....it was awesome! In addition to being grateful for the beautiful day, I was grateful for the opportunity to choose to be fearless yet again. I suppose those opportunities come often, and most days, but not often do they present themselves so tangibly and in-your-face, as blue waves crashing 20 meters below you, waiting for your arrival.

The two miles back to San Pedro seemed to go quickly and once docked, wet and exhausted, we stopped for some vegetarian tacos. Best tacos this side of the border. I love that they walk outside to their tree and pull off an avocado to slice it into your dish - how cool is that?! We even bought some banana bread from the "Pan Lady" as we call her. There are actually quite a few women who walk around with baskets of fresh baked goods on their heads. Once back at our house, we were fearless yet again, taking cold showers in the "bathroom." Super chilly! Makes it a bit tricky as it gets somewhat cold here in the evenings. (It can hardly be called a bathroom, yet there's no way to describe it - mostly a drain in the floor, a shower head tied to a pipe in the ceiling, and a toilet, all behind a curtained off area in the house).

That evening we put on our dancing shoes and went to Salsa! Had Salsa lessons for over an hour and it was hilarious and fantastic all at once. My partner, Danny (one of our Kiwi friends) was thankfully a newbie, just like me, and graciously put up with my awkwardness, while managing to spin me around perfectly. Before the night was over, I got a taste of serious salsa dancing, as the instructor, Lorenzo spun me around the room. I couldn't say exactly what my feet were doing, don't think there were any thoughts getting in the way in my head either - I just moved. Lots of fun!

Today has been a great day as well...last day of Spanish school, a lovely lunch by our Guadamadre (Guatemalan Madre (mother)), some checking into buses to Belize for Monday, walking around the town center, and emailing in The Buddha Bar. We have massages on the menu for later this afternoon, dinner, and an evening with friends that probably includes a few cuba libres and some salsa dancing!!

Hasta Luego!

World Adventure Part III - Central America

San Pedro, Guatemala


I'm thinking that London, England was Part I, Europe (Greece and Spain) was Part II, and then after a month stop-over in the US, Central America is Part III. So, I'm on Part III of this world adventure and I am currently in Central America, San Pedro Guatemala to be exact. And very aware that I need to tell the stories I've left out in the last month or so...but for now - I'm sitting in The Buddha in this tiny lake-side village, having a pot of mint tea and watching the afternoon rainfall soak the botanical landscape that never had time to dry from last night. The mist has rolled in from Lake Atitlan and covers the green mountains in an eery and mystical way, and the locals walk about selling banana bread and nuts in baskets - sometimes carried on their heads. The village's dogs might find dry shelter for their nap, if they can be bothered to move. This is a place I've never fathomed before - could not have brought up in my imagination. The streets are so narrow that they feel like sidewalks, the brightly colored stucco buildings so close to the edges, it seems more like a path to walk down. They have bicycles, three-wheeled motor taxis, and motorcycles that effortlessly weave in and out of tourists and a few vans that brave the main roads - some rubbing paint against paint. I believe it's rainy season, hence the almost daily afternoon/evening rains, which means everything is damp but beautiful. The breeze is cool, and there are so many quaint little open-air cafes and restaurants that line the winding paths of the village.

Living with a family in a foreign-speaking land is something one should try to do - because in one swift moment you are completely thrown out of your comfort zone and into something real. I had a plate of black beans and tortillas for dinner last night, feeling very authentic, mumbled some spanish conversation, and generally waffled back and forth between feeling awkward and grateful. Thankfully my friend Helen is along for this adventure and we're staying together, each of us with our own room (something like a thin mattress with a sheet and blanket in a large room with one fluorescent lightbulb in the ceiling, damp stucco walls and tile floors). The bathroom is really an area with a curtain with a drain in the floor next to a toilet and a tiny sink - you don't close a door, you never walk barefoot, and you don't flush toilet paper. This is the real deal here in Guatemala.

Spanish school started today. For four hours I sat under a botanical canopy listening to birds and wildlife while my teacher attempted to bring forth all the years of spanish learned too many years ago. My brain hurts a bit - and I'm loving it. I'm determined to leave Central America in four months with some seriously good Spanish!

I've got until Sunday here in this beautiful paradise before Helen and I make our way to Belize. Flying into Guatemala City, I was dropped in Antigua for a few hours before my almost 4-hour journey to San Pedro. Antigua was lovely and big compared to this small village. Bright-colored buildings, dogs wandering, kids eating ice cream, volcano in the background, motorcycles driving recklessly, magenta colored flowers, cobblestone streets, and ancient buildings. The drive to San Pedro was like a carnival ride through the mountains and over pot-holes the size of small countries, and on slick pavement. Palm trees swayed next to pine trees, cows and donkeys grazed on the side of the road, random chickens darted around, trucks carrying too many pigs drove too fast, Latino women walked in their beautiful skirts in the rain, carrying baskets of goods on their heads while Latino men sat or stood in the back of pick-up trucks, some covered in tarps to stay dry. Graffiti competed with general destruction of the road-side buildings that appeared vacant and long-forgotton. Rocks and boulders lay strewn in the road from the mountainside and mudslides, and one had the sense that this is a place that "anything goes." The people seem friendly and flexible and generous and willing to deal with all of the gringos who have barely-there Spanish. I have a feeling this is going to be one special adventure.

Time to do my spanish homework...Hasta Luego!

City Highlights

Barcelona, or Barca, as it’s often referred to, has been wonderful. Sunday night I went to Palau De La Musica for the Spanish Opera y Flamenco show, and it was fantastic! I had one of the box seats in the first balcony, so I was somewhat perpendicular to the stage and I leaned over the railing the whole show, eyes wide, completely mesmerized by their moves. It was sort of like Lord of the Dance - meets tap dancing - meets belly dancing - meets ballroom dancing...it was spectacular. The building itself was also a worthy sight, with lovely architecture in the Art Nouveau style. I wandered the very crowded night-time streets of Barca back to my hotel, with a spanish beat in my head.

Monday, I took the tour bus through Barca’s most famous sights - and in a nutshell, this is what I saw: We drove down Passeig de Gracia (famous street that’s very wide and has all the high end shopping - the place to be seen), saw the facades of some of Gaudi’s famous buildings in the middle of the busy city - Casa Battlo and Casa Mila (more on him in a moment) - which are completely perplexing and unbelievable, walked through Park Guell, toured Sagrada Familia (church in process), saw the Olympic Village, walked along the beach, waterfront, and old port, looked up at the Columbus Monument, drove up Montjuic to see the views of the city, the Olympic Stadium, and then visited Poble Espanyol (a Spanish Village).

A bit deconstructed now...
Passeig de Gracia is a very cool street - it’s tree-lined like La Rambla and it’s sidewalks are as wide as two lanes of traffic. It also boasts stores like Rolex, Burberry, Prada, Gucci, Diesel, H&M, and more. However, jammed in between designer labels and cafes, one of Gaudi’s notorious buildings is nestled on display. Case Battlo is a multicolored creation with a rooftop that’s reminiscent of the scaled-back of a dragon. And I hear - that’s exactly what his inspiration was.

Gaudi was unknown to me prior to stepping foot in Spain - so sorry architectural digest. However, I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know him a bit better and he’s oh so fascinating. Antoni Gaudi was born in 1852 (near Barcelona), and he’s known for his futuristic designs and his integration of art nouveau with catalan modernism and the gothic art elements. His works are so original and so ‘out there’ that he’s left an unforgettable mark on the urban structure of Barcelona. He’s big on color, imaginative sculptural decoration, recycled materials (i.e., broken ceramic pieces from cups, plates, etc. for his mosaics), references to Catalan culture (dragons), nature, and religion. His vision could only ever be described as ‘out-of-the-box’ and completely original. I’m a huge fan.

Guell Park (named for the money man who footed the bill) is a lasting shrine to one of Gaudi’s loveliest works. Gaudi was commissioned to create an ideal town plan (in 1900) that promised a radically new way of life. The garden-city was created with it’s own roads throughout the park, ceramic mosaic benches and sculptures and waterfalls, a few houses, a town square...and more. And it failed. In the 1920’s when people were brought to look at the new development, like a model home, they couldn’t fathom living there - it was too wild, too unstable looking with all it’s curved architecture and whimsy. It never did fulfill its dream and Gaudi left it alone to focus on his most prominent contribution - Sagrada Familia. I thoroughly enjoyed the park - it’s a new party for the eyes around every corner, and one can’t help but feel like they got lost in some part of Disney’s magic kingdom...it’s a bit of fantasy in a huge park, in the middle of a big city.

Sagrada Familia - it’s a bit overwhelming. It’s considered Gaudi’s masterpiece. And it’s not finished yet. The first stone was laid in 1882 and he dedicated 43 years of his life to this work, the last 12 years, almost exclusively - even living in his workshop in the church, until his unexpected death in 1926 (he was hit by a tram). His artistic design of the church is so modern and futuristic that when one actually sees it, it seems impossible for it to be a church. But Gaudi was severly religious and his desire to symbolize the life of Christ is everywhere in his work. There are to be three monumental facades (2 currently built), 18 towers (12 dedicated to the apostles), the highest one dedicated to Jesus rising 170 meters, five isles in the interior, and every window with brightly shining stained glass. Work has been nonstop for the last 80 years, since his death, in exactly the same vein as his original designs. They hope to have it done by 2030. They’re hoping for major progress by November - when the Pope comes! The outer facades are remarkable and out of this world - but walking inside steals your breath away. I only heard the word “WOW” being muttered. It’s massive and mind-bending and so very, very cool. And this wonderment is possible even with the cranes, the dust, the jackhammers, and the construction crew that works non-stop. As Rick Steves’ says, “If there is one building in the world I hope to see finished - it’s this one.”

Montjuic was another favorite. Known as the “Mountain of the Jews” - a castle was built on the hill in 1640 for defense of the city. The views of Barcelona and the coast are fantastic and there are many sculptures around the grassy, park-like areas. La Sardana was my favorite - a sculpture of 8 stone dancers which captures the essence of the Catalan people and Barcelona itself. In this area of the city, El Poble Espanyol resides. It was originally built for the 1929 World Fair and is basically a Spanish village replica of all the autonomous regions of Spain. It’s enclosed behind tall stone walls and has shops with different artisans, cafes with mediterranean cuisine, and galleries with contemporary masters like Picasso, Dal, and Miro. It’s like being in a city within a city, and might be something like “the wild west”, but more Spanish ;). I rather enjoyed my jaunt around the different regions of Spain, and my lunch of tapas.

My Flamenco Night at La Palau De Musica





Park Guell





La Sagrada Familia






Montjuic

Espana, Take-Two

Waking up in a new city is like stumbling across a shoe sale at your favorite store that you weren't expecting...it's exciting, a bit overwhelming, and full of wonder. I woke up in Barcelona this morning, and first impressions are completely favorable. It's charming. I haven't ventured very far away from my immediate neighborhood yet - I'm at Balmes Hotel on Carrer de Mallorca, in the L 'Eixample district. This means I'm six blocks from Placa de Catalunya which is where La Rambla starts and makes its way one mile to the coast. La Rambla is meant to be a Spanish version of the Champs Ellysees in Paris, but even better ;).

So far, my surroundings include tree-lined streets, outdoor cafes, a lot of bicycle and motor-cyclers, and big buildings that have tall, narrow french doors with slatted shutters as coverings - and one immediately calls to mind a spanish woman standing on the balcony, dress flowing against the wrought-iron rails, a painted fan in her hand and eyelashes fluttering.

My short history of the Spanish language is only partially useful here as they speak Catalan in Barcelona - but I've been successful so far as I know how to ask if they speak English ;). In addition to further foot exploration tomorrow - I have an evening at Palau De La Musica - which Rick Steves says is an often overlooked gem. I'm taking in a Spanish Opera and Flamenco show and am really looking forward to it. Monday, I will board the tourist brigade and hop on one of those Barcelona City tour buses...my saving grace is that I see all the things I want to see in one day, and can then decide where I want to go back to for more. The bus tour is one thing - the walking tour with the orange umbrellas held up, the foreigners following like a parade of ducks, and yellow stickers on your shirt are a completely different ball game - that I want no part of!!

My evening holds more perusing of Spanish history and reading of places of interest in Spain's second city. It's lovely already, and I'm looking forward to getting to know her even better.

Ibiza Adventures

This evening we leave Ibiza and I head to Barcelona while my mates head back to London, a rainy London. It has been such a fantastic treat to be able to spend a week with them, especially in this tropical retreat.

Although we could have been perfectly content to spend the entire week at the beautiful villa, we ventured around the island, exploration-style with four adults crammed into the backseat of a “large” crossover. At every potential sight, overlook, or vista - the car came to a screeching halt and we eagerly tumbled out, happy to have a reason to vacate the tiny space. However, most evenings, we found our way happily back to the villa, to sit around the pool, music playing, ice clinking in cocktails, and conversation rolling. The six of us easily let the hours pass under the blanket of stars, thankful for a slight breeze, and content to be sharing this holiday together.

The villa is in Sant Josep, which is on the south-western side of the island. The village itself falls away in a series of steep cliffs and rounded coves all the way around the south coast. There are pine-covered hills in the distance and some of the best beaches, that are more family friendly, but still very European - swarming with topless babes. Our local beach, Cala Tarida, is one of the sheltered coves and has flat rocks shaped by wind and sea that form natural platforms for sunbathing or playing “king of the world.” Sailboats rock in the water just outside the swimming area, the water is a clear aquamarine, and the sand is white and rock-free at least 60 meters out. There are a handful of great restaurants up on the cliffs overlooking the beach cove, three of which we tried. Each one was great - serving all the Spanish specialties like gazpacho, mussels, paella, sangria, and bread with aioli and olives. We haven’t gone hungry.

Monday, our first day of exploring, we found ourselves in a small village that felt like a ghost-town, with a beautiful little church and one amazing leather shop where the owner was making his wares right there in the shop - exquisite craftsmanship. We continued on our jaunt north, up the western coast to a beach called Cala Salada - the views were breathtaking! We drove through the mountains, passed by olive tree groves, and wound our way along the steep cliffs. The beach turned out to be a bit rocky for our taste, but we enjoyed the excursion down the half-mile of stairs to get to the bottom. We drove through the center of the island, again through different altitudes, and ended up on the south coast at Es Cubells - where we found a lovely small beach with a beach cafe that served cold beer, fresh mussels and tasty gazpacho. We drove through Eivissa and Sant Antoni, the two major towns on this side of the island - more touristy and hopping with gaggles of 20-somethings with clubbing on the mind.

Tuesday we spent the entire day at the beach - Cala Tarida - and thoroughly enjoyed being moved by the waves. Wednesday we headed north to the eastern part of the island to Santa Eularia and the the Hippy Market in Es Canar, near Punta Arabi. Yes - it is actually called “The Hippy Market” and there are signs indicating so. This spectacular takes place once a week in a shady, pine-clad headland that is transformed into a replica of the 1960’s, as the few remaining hippies of Ibiza sell their wares. Of course, it’s mostly become a trendy market with commercially minded entrepreneurs - but it’s still fantastically fun to walk around. Try on a pair of Aladdin pants, look at the bangle bracelets, get your hair braided, listen to the various musicians and bongo drums, have some paella, smoke a joint...whatever tickles your fancy.

After our blast from the past, we drove south again to Cala d’Hort, where the dramatic rock faces of Es Vedra are visible. Es Vedra looms large and is probably the most famous and most photographed rock around Ibiza. We stopped at the beach cafe for sangria and chilled as we watched the sun dance on the water. Lovely.

Thursday was another day at our beach and then the late afternoon and evening spent at Cala Comte, at the Sunset Ashram. Might be the coolest bar/cafe on the island. It’s bohemian and laid-back and funky. Live music plays with a club-like beat, sun-drenched people come up from the sand for cocktails, and the views of the sun setting are impossibly perfect. We enjoyed our last night together at the Sunset Ashram, clinked champagne glasses, and agreed that our week in Ibiza had been everything we’d hoped it would be.

As I write this now, I’m at the villa, sitting at the teak patio table, under the umbrella, by the pool. Helen is painting her nails, the boys are engaged in various activities - last minute sun bathing, reading, and watching golf on television, and I am enjoying the last hours in this beautiful paradise. I can see the ocean from my chair, the stucco houses and mansion villas nestled into the pine hills, and the sky is blue without a cloud in sight. In a few hours, we’ll cram ourselves one more time into the rental car and head to Ibiza’s small airport - adding five more tanned bodies to the tired crowds, although thankfully, we we won’t be sporting the hung-over, dazed look of a long night partying at the clubs! So for now - goodbye to Ibiza...hoping to see you again in the future.