The Roads

To put it bluntly, I find the roads here quite terrifying. Since I can remember I’ve had a fear of driving up winding roads through mountains, particularly in developing countries. I actually thought this trip I was getting better. Until I got to Guatemala.

While the scenery is spectacular, the narrow, winding roads tend to remove any sense of pleasure for me. On the four chicken buses I had to take from Antigua to Panajachel, most of the way was like a game of corners. No joke! One bus in particular went as fast as it possibly could, not even braking for tight corners. People were being flung off their seats into the aisle – that happened more than once. I was just relieved to find my backpack had not been flung off the top of the bus along the way.

And if that’s not bad enough, landslides in the rainy season are pretty much a daily occurrence somewhere near here. I thought they only happened in really bad conditions like Hurricane Stan a few years ago which, sadly, buried a village killing over 200 people near Santiago La Laguna. Not the case. I’m hearing stories almost daily now of a landslide affecting a road to somewhere or other. They do get cleared up in a day or so, depending on the severity, and there aren’t usually any fatalities involved, thankfully. It’s just bloody scary.

Yesterday in yoga one of the local expats was saying how last week she had to see a doctor in the city and on her way back there had been a landslide on the road from Solola to Panajachel. I took this road the day before it happened. So the bus from Solola, which was meant to go to Panajachel (only 8kms away), took them to San Jorge and just dumped everyone out there. They had to walk for over three hours, in driving rain, along an old muddy indigenous path to get to Panajachel to get the lancha (boat) home. She finally arrived home at about 7 o’clock that evening, covered in mud and soaking wet. And she is 61 years old.

I’m now thinking that after here I’ll go to Xela for a little while then head up to Mexico, returning here when, hopefully, conditions are a little better.

A local story

In San Pedro I met a guy called, funnily enough, Pedro. We spent some time chatting and it was so interesting to hear his story. I guess it is hard for someone who has grown up in a wealthy country to imagine life to be so difficult.

Pedro’s father died when he was young and so he was only able to go to school for three years, from the age of 10-13. Of course, the Mayan people speak only Mayan at home and need to be at school to learn to speak Spanish. But if there’s no breadwinner, there’s no money for school. So Pedro had to leave school and learn Spanish on the streets. To speak to him you would not know that he had only three years of schooling.

His mother did remarry and have more children and Pedro was required to work at the stepfather’s farm. There he was regularly beaten (by the stepfather) and while his mother encouraged him to fight back, he decided it wasn’t worth it because if the police got involved, he would end up with a police record for the rest of his life.

I guess this led to his rejection of a lot of the aspects of Mayan culture and he has now taught himself English and unlike most locals, aspires to travel. He has been to New Zealand already and is planning to go to Canada soon. Whilst still close to his mother, much of the Mayan community rejects him as a quasi-gringo.

Finding work here is difficult for anyone, many of the businesses employ locals in the busy season then lay them off in the quiet time – so there is no financial stability at all. Pedro had been working in a restaurant until things got quiet. Now when he can he paints, works on local farms, and DJs.

Another young guy I met who worked at a bar had been teaching in a local Spanish school but was laid off due to the quiet time.

The Dual Economy

So I need to get something off my chest. One thing that is really bugging me here, and I guess it is true in most developing countries, is that although tourism is booming, not much of the money seems to benefit the local community.

In the Lake Atitlan area, as in most of Guatemala, poverty is a huge problem. Of course, hand in hand with that is lack of education, poor health care and malnutrition. These are not things that are easy to fix and many tourists believe that by coming here they are contributing to the local economy.

I’m starting to think that tourism is a backwards step for the locals. What often happens is that gringos come and buy houses thereby driving up property prices. They set up businesses where they employ very few locals (sometimes none), and usually only for the menial low-paid work. Generally the gringos have a better idea of what the tourist market is interested in and so they get named in the guide books and are busy and popular.

In effect, the locals are often priced out of their own town as they can’t afford the property and their businesses are less profitable. That’s why in the villages around Lake Atitlan, down near the water live the gringos and all their businesses, and up higher are the local villages.

As a tourist, it is impossible to entirely avoid the gringo businesses but my philosophy is to buy from the locals as much as possible and where possible, stay in a locally owned hotel. I also try to ensure that I don’t do much repeat business anywhere I stay if I can help it – thereby spreading the little money I am spending across as many businesses as possible. And of course, spending big in the local markets to support those communities, and occasionally buying chickens for people.

Markets

The indigenous population in Guatemala is around 60% of the total population so there is a very strong Mayan culture, particularly in these western highlands where most of the population is Mayan. There are several different tribes amongst the Mayan population and at least 20 different languages spoken – with vast differences between them. Most Mayans wear traditional dress which, for women consists of a huipil (tunic), long wrap-around skirt and belt. The huipil varies from tribe to tribe with some more elaborate than others.

Santiago La Laguna is another village along Lake Atitlan and the huipil there is very intricate with detailed embroidery of birds and flowers. I was told that it could sometimes take up to one week to embroider just one bird – I only wish I knew that when I was negotiating for one.

I spent an afternoon in Santiago which was lovely (until the rain came). This village has much less of a tourist influence and the locals, like most Guatemalans, are lovely to speak to.

Chichicastenango, as well as having one of the best names, also holds the largest and most famed market in Guatemala. This is held on Thursdays and Sundays and is a colourful and psychedelic display of Guatemalan textiles and handicrafts. Negotiating in a market here can take a while but is such a pleasant experience, it is all done so gently and respectfully. I think I did my bit for the local economy that day, requiring me to send, thus far, the largest and heaviest box of stuff home.

Antigua

Antigua is such a beautifully preserved colonial city that it would be remiss of me not to mention it or post any pictures. The guidebook says that if the Scandinavians were to come to Guatemala and build a city, Antigua would be it. UNESCO listed, the colourful buildings are no higher than two stories and the town contains many ruins of beautiful old churches, which you tend to just happen across as you're walking down the street. The town is set in a grid pattern in a valley surrounded by volcanoes. The cobblestone streets look nice but are a pain the arse when you're wearing thongs, and when its raining - there are such big gaps between the stones and all the streets are built with a slope into the centre - I kicked my toes and tripped more than a couple of times. Given it's beauty and proximity to Guate (the capital), it is a magnet for tourists and many come here to learn spanish and volunteer. Many of the rich locals from Guate head here for the weekend filling the town and its many restaurants and bars.

A Brief History

Founded in 1543, Antigua was was the seat of Spanish colonial government for the Kingdom of Guatemala, which included Chiapas, Guatemala, Belize, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua and Costa Rica. The full title bestowed upon the city was Muy Leal y Muy Noble Ciudad de Santiago de los Caballeros de Goathemala, that is, the "Very Loyal and Very Noble City of Saint James of the Knights of Guatemala." Ultimately, Antigua grew into the most important city in Central America, filled with monumental buildings of ornate Spanish colonial architecture. By 1773, in addition to the cathedral and government palace the city could boast of over 30 churches, 18 convents and monasteries, 15 hermitages, 10 chapels, the University of San Carlos, five hospitals, an orphanage, fountains and parks, and municipal water and sewer systems. Throughout its history the it was repeatedly damaged by earthquakes, but on July 29, 1773, the day of Santa Marta, an earthquake wrought such destruction that officials petitioned the King of Spain to allow them to move the capital to safer ground, which led to the founding in 1776 of present-day Guatemala City. Antigua was left to maintain its old world charm which is today so appealing.

Chickens and beer

The plan was to leave Juayua on Monday, stay overnight in Ahuachapan and do a daytrip up to Casa Blanca. However the hotel I had planned to stay in is now a floristry school, so after walking up and down the street aimlessly for half an hour, then finally finding out the fate of the former hotel, I thought bugger it, I’m going to Guatemala. So jumped on a bus to the border.

Funny how things work out. I got one of the last beds in the hostel that was recommended to me and had a week of fun and hanging out with great people.

It all started with Casa Amarilla having a party to celebrate their 10^th birthday on Tuesday afternoon. This was complete with games such as balloon popping, musical chairs, chinese whispers and, of course, smashing the piñata. Hilarious.

Next day, feeling slightly worse for wear, Helen convinced me a beer would make me feel better. And so started another day of sitting up on the patio and entertaining ourselves. Playing ridiculous TV show themes on YouTube and making a silly video which I then posted on YouTube - we did manage to involve others in the hostel in this revelry.

Next day, feeling slightly worse for wear, we were hanging around in the dorm chatting when Adam mentioned he would like a baby chicken to travel with, just a passing comment. Helen, Sarah, Adam and I went out to the markets and for lunch then separated at the supermarket. That is when Helen and I saw the baby chickens. It took a little bit of effort but I managed to convince Helen it would be hilarious if we bought one for Adam. So we did.

He was shocked, then pleased, then proud. We first thought he would take it back to the pet store, but no. I can do this he said. He went out and bought it food (we forgot that part), a basket and some bowls for food and water. We had a ball with it for a few hours, imagining Adam on the chicken buses with a chicken, crossing borders and checking into hostels. That was until the hostel evicted poor little Beer. Video says it all but one of the funniest lines was when Helen was minding the chicken down her shirt and the owner was giving her grief. It’s not my chicken she said, you have to talk to Adam, he’s downstairs asleep. So the owner goes down to Adam, wakes him up and says, do you own a chicken? Yes, I have a chicken he responded in his Mississippi drawl. Not what you hear everyday as a traveller.

Adam took the chicken to the market and gave him to a very happy old lady. That made me think, what if we bought more chickens and gave them to more people. Next video tells that story.

Incidentally, on Saturday I also helped the hostel deliver clothes and food to a disabled home and the church where they prepared food for hundreds of homeless each day. Needless to say my halo is now shining brightly.

So after a week of beer, chickens and chickens called Beer, I had to get out of Antigua. I still laugh when I think about the recommendation I was given for Casa Amarilla - it's not a party hostel, more mature people, low key. Ha.

Gastronomia

I arrived in Juayua on Friday afternoon and thought I'd get a bit of admin out of the way before the weekend. At the top of the list was getting money, then a haircut. Having not looked after my hair at all this trip, I thought I'd treat myself to a little trim. Well after about four minutes of Edward Scissorhands action, there was a new me with dramatically shorter hair with my hairdresser insisting it was only an inch, pointing to the long strands sitting forlornly on the ground. The torture cost me the grand sum of $1.50.

In Juayua each weekend there is a gastronomic festival which brings the town alive. The streets around the central park are full of stalls selling all sorts of food, grilled meats, soups, sweets, seafood, etc. Lots of visitors pour into the town on Saturday and Sunday, from both the cities and foreign tourists, to pig out for hours on end. This is accompanied by a man singing loudly and passionately and, for the most part, off-key, which can be heard right throughout the small town.

I bumped into my English friends, Sam and Julia, when I got here which was lucky as the rains poured throughout the afternoon and we were huddled under the tent eating our food for a few hours while waiting for the rain to settle. Later that evening we met back up at a bar where we had way too many mojitos. It was actually really nice to be around some other travellers again after such a dearth the past couple of weeks.

On Sunday I went to the neighbouring town of Ataco which also hosts a food festival at the weekends. This town is developing quickly but still not spoiled by tourism. While it drizzled all day, the beautiful murals on all the buildings brought so much colour and life that I barely even noticed the rain.