Journal; Xela, Fuentes Georginas, Tajumulco, and San Pedro de la Laguna, in Guatemala.
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Thursday 1st September
I arrived in Guatemala today, and got to Xela the second city at about 8pm. (Those of you who are clever will notice there’s a gap, it doesn’t take a day to get down the road to Guate. What actually happened was that yesterday some bastard nicked my wallet, thus delaying my departure AGAIN..but the point is I finally got here).
Wow, Guate makes Chiapas look like a really civilized place. I traveled to the border in 2 and a half hours in new micro-vans. Across the border I got on a shitty bus with three people to every two spaces. The exhaust was growling every time he put his foot down as we climbed back up into the mountains. Everyone said the buses in Guate were an experience, yeah, a really BAD experience. Especially since I have a hangover (during my extra night in San C I met my new editor and he said ..i quote..”you can write”. Now there’s a reason to celebrate. He also said I was cute. Hmmm, I hope he didn’t have ulterior motives when he was being nice about my article).
Anyway, the bus journey is crazy. The driver absolutely hoons it along the winding road. Then if there are any people waiting at the roadside he drives right past them because he can’t stop in time. I think more time is actually wasted waiting for them to run to catch up than is gained by driving ridiculously fast.
I would also advise travellers to sit on the drivers side of the bus. This way you will avoid having to watch the bus guy risking his life as he clambers up on top of the bus while we are moving at forty miles an hour. I saw something hit him on the head one time - a branch? Or maybe a dangling electrical wire - and the guy had a laugh about it with the driver! Then he climbed on up and just made it before two trees were close enough to take him out. I really don’t want to see this guy flung onto the tarmac. It would ruin my already horrible, uncomfortable day.
In total it took 8 hours and 2 collectivos, 2 buses and 2 taxis to get to Xela. But looking on the brightside it only cost $13 US.
Friday 2nd September
On my way to the shower this morning I passed by the travel agent who lives here and booked a trip to climb a volcano tomorrow. Nice. Then I went to some cold miserable hot springs. The guide book said “sublime” and I was really excited. But after a pick-up ride up the hill to get there the fog had rolled in and you could barely see to metres away, let alone the view. I forced myself to sit in the tepid water a while as I figured it was good for me, then got changed on a freezing concrete floor and sneezed all the way back to the village. I sat in arestaurant with a view over the whole village, which would be great if the village wasn’t a mish mash of grey concrete buildings, mud roads and small fields. It is still raining and Guate is not great. Plus it takes me two hours to get home on crowded buses (it’s only 10km).
Saturday 3rd September
I’m impressed with how well I wake up at 4:30am to head on yet more crowded buses out to the bottom of Tajumulco volcano- the highest in central America, but a fairly pathetic 4220m (been up higher). At the final count there are 32 people and 3 guides in our group. This doesn’t please me, it takes 20 mins to get on the bus, they throw our packs on top one by one, and we squish our way onto an already half full bus. When we sit down to breakfast we take over the whole comedor and I’m already starting to get annoyed about the inane conversations people are having (oooh, I like your hair, where have you been then?, altitude can kill you know) and there is absolutely no opportunity to practice Spanish on this trip – all 3 guides are from the USA.
The walking is bloody hard. We climb 1000m to our camp spot (at 4000m) carrying 15+ kg packs and the going is not slow.
I love the word “gung-ho” and luckily the gung-ho people in our group get to the top sooooooo quickly they have put most of the tents up before we arrive. Not before overtaking me with the predictable condescending comment “you just pacing yourself are you?”
I am in a tent with all the lone travelers, 5 in a 4 man tent. I already hate the girl next to me – she’s even more obviously selfish than me – and hasn’t said a single thing yet apart from statements of her immense knowledge of all things outdoor, and complaints about things going wrong for her. On my left is the most gung-ho of all. He has carried 3 kgs of camera equipment with him, including a foot long zoom lens. But he just goes round snapping away, reaching over people holding the camera with one hand at a funny angle. If those pictures come out it just proves my theory that with expensive enough equipment anyone can be a photographer. He took pictures of the porridge.
After standing around in the cold in a stupid black poncho waiting for more pasta to cook we went to bed at 7pm, and I got to sleep about midnight. Not until after a girl came to join us from her flooded tent and slept where our feet should go. At this point we are 6 in a 4 man tent in the rain. The guys on either end are completely wet, and I am trying to sleep with my knees up. I’m close to storming out and screaming, but it’s raining and I don’t want to go outside.
Sunday 4th September
Another 4am start takes us to the summit, just about in time for sunrise, but with 30 of us (2 didn’t make it after last night) the traffic is ridiculous. The view at the top is stunning, you can see Mexico, 2 live volcanoes and apparently the ocean but I’m not sure about that.
After about 300 photos from the t#@t who slept next to me we head back down. The walk down is fantastic, I escape the traffic a bit, free myself of the ridiculous poncho and can look around at the meadows dotted with trees and flowers, and see the hills and valleys below us. After a precious few moments sitting alone I know I have to return to the crowd if I want any breakfast.
It takes a phenomenal amount of time to eat and break camp. On the way down we stop in the sun a couple of times, mmm soaking up the warmth of the sun…a decent rest. The travel conversations have moved on to “where have you been in Asia?” and I prefer the boyish ramblings of the guides, who are trying to start a fire with a tiny magnifying glass.
After more buses and lunch and handing the equipment back it’s over and I can have a hot shower and a long sleep.
Monday 5th September
I haven’t tried to move yet but I have a feeling it’s going to hurt. go back to journal main page go home
No. Moving around is painful and I’m still very tired. After a morning of indecision and trying to get things done (it’s impossible to send a fax, or buy shampoo, hairbands and a razor in the same shop – in the developed world it’s called a pharmacy – not that difficult surely) I find a shuttleto take me to the lake. Hooray..i couldn’t face getting on another chicken bus.
By nightfall I have found a gorgeous lakeside room with a hammock out front. This town (San Pedro) has to be the friendliest place anywhere. All the locals as well as the tourists say hello. When I was strolling around trying to figure out which path went back to the main street (there aren’t very many roads here) I first got invited to join in a young girls game with her sister, then 2 seconds later a slightly older girl invited me to her grandma’s party. I wanted to tell someone these tales of friendliness so I stopped into the next bar. He listened to my story then introduced me to everyone in the place!
Tuesday 6th September
This was the view from my hammock and I looked at it most of the day. A quick swim, reading and eating is all I did. Great.
I had dinner with my Israeli neighbours and braved the topic of politics with an English girl who has moved to Israel. It sounds like a pretty divided place, with the ultra-orthodox Jews living in their own communities and shutting everything down on Saturdays. They are resented by the people at this table because they don’t have to do military service, and instead spend one year less than everyone else doing “national” service, (like community service). Then there’s the Israeli Arabs who also live in their own communities and are also resented. This group because they have cousins in Palestine and have been blamed for helping to bring bombs in. These guys do the crappy jobs. The people you see traveling (in their hoards!!!) are the Hebrew speaking Jewish who have just finished military service. According to my neighbours, in Palestinian schools kids are not even taught that Israel exists, (how do they know where to take the bombs then?!). It seems to me that, as always, education is so important in this delicate situation. I stumped them all by asking what type of passports Palestinians had, and – predictably- one of the macho guys commented in Hebrew that Palestinians don’t have passports because they are all too poor ha ha ha.
And so far I’m proved right about them being tight….none of the people I’m with tip. They just don’t. Not even in this ridiculously cheap country where the people really could use the money – cultural differences eh.
Wednesday 7th September go to guate photos
I think I ate a bad egg. I had stomach pains.. but not the normal cramps, more like aching with a bit of nausea thrown in. I really did stay in the hammock all day today, and was particularly anti social.
I’m in San Pedro, it’s a strange little town. There are tons of Spanish schools, but I don’t believe anyone actually wants to learn Spanish as all the menus and people working in the restaurants speak English. I was supposed to be practicing loads this week, but it’s actually easier to practice in Mexico.
Thursday 8th September
A hellish day getting back to San Cristóbal. 6 hours on chicken buses, including being squashed by someone’s bag of rotting fish (smelt like it), then mini-vans back in Mexico. 10 hours it took me, and I stank of fish for most of it.
So I have lovely memories of Guatemala. Not.
Friday 9th September
Ahhhh, Mexico, such a lovely country. I spent the day sitting in the garden of the hostel and talking to various people about going to this week’s Zapatista meeting, without really believing any of them would go. Then to my pleasant surprise my friend Martin says “why not?” and provides transport and a tent. By the time all this is decided it’s too late to leave today so we set our alarms for a 6am departure.
Saturday 10th September
My stomach is still way dodgy so the 6am departure becomes more like midday. On the way there I am in serious pain, Martin thinks it’s his driving scaring me, but no, I am just sweating because of my painful stomach. But after half an hour of pain, whatever it was is gone and I am better than I have been for days. Hooray, I can enjoy the meeting. Well, enjoy is putting it a bit strongly, it’s more like an intellectual exercise with all the speeches in Spanish. It’s astoundingly similar to the last meeting, the same kind of people saying the same kind of things. There’s a group of campesinos that do a great show though, they walk to the front shouting, (“Zapata vive!” response: “La lucha sigue!”), then sing some songs whilst holding their machetes high in the air and clanking them together.
you can just about see machetes
Marcos is a lot more accessible this time (they’re outside so you can sneak up behind him) and he’s actually autographing books and t-shirts while people are queuing up behind him! He’s supposed to be listening to the speakers.
The people in the community are really friendly. Our friend Cedric had nowhere to sleep so we went looking for a hammock space. In one barn I was suggesting using the emptier half of the room, when I realized it was someones house! And they had already let about 12 people come to stay. The next barn we peeked in was also someones house, but they let cedric stay anyway!!! They put the hammock up for him above a huge pile of corn kernels and in the bed in the corner 2 of the children were asleep. So kind!!! Then when cedric went back covered in mud at about 1am he accidently woke up the baby, now the whole family of 5 had gone to sleep…in one double bed, and to avoid any further disruption cedric just slept in his muddy clothes all night!
Sunday 11th September
We truly are part-timers at this weekend’s meeting; we leave early, at 1pm to go to some Mayan ruins in Ocosingo on the way home. Toniná they are called and it’s a great site, built all the way up the side of a hill you can climb 80m’s up the steps of the different buildings. Bloody hot though. This is the first touristy thing I have done in Chiapas for weeks!!
Martin is such a star he’s letting me stay at his house…with great facilities including high-speed internet, playstation2, sky -full package- and kittens!!!!
Monday 12th September
Hanging at the house, some serious internet action. It feels kind of weird going into town in the evening and seeing tourists everywhere, San Cristóbal is such a different place for me now - compared to when I first arrived. I’m practically a local.
Tuesday 13th September
Martin has gone to the states…but I’m still in the house. After a brief stint in town I return to the computer.
Wednesday 14th September
Well more of the same innit, you think this website writes itself?
The most exciting point of my day was introducing the kittens to the dog. He’s behind a fence so it’s relatively safe, but I could feel their little hearts beating faster and faster as I carried them closer. Then they tried to make themselves look big by putting their fur on end…ha ha, they are only the size of my hand and they are trying to make themselves look big.
They are Mexican kittens, they eat tortillas.