el fin

Well, I'm back in the States now, so this will likely be my last entry. Unless I forget some anecdotes or something.

Wednesday night, I had dinner with my (second) Guatemala family (the one I lived with for a month). Lily and Nicolina (the girl that replaced me) cooked, and I assisted since I have no actual cooking talent. Nicolina made a fabulous pasta dish with shrimp, and Lillian made a Chinese beef and broccoli dish. We actually had wine and beer, too. Eric introduced me to a Guatemalan beverage (which apparently they also drink in the west) which consists of 50% beer, 50% tomato juice, lime, and salt. Definitely makes Gallo (the budweiser-esque Guatemalan beer) better.

Earlier in the day, lily had informed me that our family had requested that I bring a cake for dinner. And, also, that I bring a cake from Xela Pan (a local bakery). And, furthermore, that I bring a chocolate cake with strawberries. Made me chuckle, but I was happy to not have to make any decisions about what to get.

I also went to the market and bought flowers for Nico (and my final Guatemalan family, too), as well as chocolate. S actually saved me, because I was walking around the Mercado Democracia for two hours and couldn't find any flowers (J had told me to buy flowers there). I finally gave up, and headed back towards home, when I ran into S. He told me he'd walk me to where the flowers are. Turns out there's an entire huge inside portion of the market, which I never would've found alone. There I found several flower stalls, with ladies who were happy to make me a bouquet while I waited. It ended up being 80Q for two huge bouquets--$10.

Anyway, dinner was awesome, and I got some pictures of my Guatemalan family, and we had great conversation. Lily, having been here for a month, can now speak some Spanish, so it was a lot easier for everyone to communicate.

After dinner, I went out with a bunch of Guatemalans, and it was a lot of fun. We figured out we could buy a bottle of 12-year rum for $130Q ($15, maybe?), so we split that.

Funny thing about Guatemala—they use “agua” as drink, basically. Which I didn't figure out until my last week when my teacher finally explained it to me. I learned this Wednesday night, when S asked me if I wanted some 'agua' but was referring to Pepsi. I was so confused. But, as it turns out, Guatemalans will ask, for example, what type of agua you'd like with your meal?

Thursday, my teacher and I took a field trip to Pollo Campero, because I hadn't yet made it there. Pollo Campero is a huge Guatemalan fast food chain with fried chicken. It's really good. I mean, it's no Chick Fil A, but it's pretty good! So yeah, we had fried chicken at 10 am, which was a lot of fun.

After class, at 1, my teacher decided that we should have 1 drink at the cantina. Some other people had already congregated there. So, of course, we ended up drinking for four hours in the middle of the day! At 5, I was like, 'I have to go pack!'

After a nap and dinner, I went out to El Arabe for a bit (where I hadn't been since my first week in Xela) for some live salsa music. I went to bed surprisingly early for my last night in Xela.

On Friday, I had my last day of class, complete with a trip to the Bake Shop (the Mennonite bakery that is amazing, and only open Tuesdays/Fridays). Jose gave me an exam, which I did okay on. (I rocked the grammar, but randomly forgot that llover was to rain . . . ). After school, we actually had our party in the afternoon, instead of the evening. Which was convenient for me. We had a pasta lunch, where we all brought pasta dishes. And I graduated. And then I drank. And then I almost missed my bus, except Pedro gave me a ride to the bus station.

So I spent my last night in Guatemala in Guate City with Steve and Jana. Who kindly fed me and such. Then we went out to a pretty cool bar, that had a live band that was really, really good. They described them to us as 'ska.' I'd revise that to 'Guatemalan ska.' But good. The trumpet player was badass, and I thought the lead guitarist was adorable. So, we ended up chatting with the band after the set and I went out with the band later. So I got to see a little of Guate-city night-life, which is refreshingly gringo-free after Xela.

The lead singer/guitarist told me (which was one of many times I heard this in Guate) that I didn't look American. I'm not really sure why they think this. Maybe because I'm not blond? Maybe because they mostly meet either hippie travelers or Southern baptist missionaries? It's a mystery to me.

So I was up at 730 to grab a cab to the airport. I didn't see much of the Guate airport upon my arrival, but it turns out it's really, really nice. Much nicer than most American airports. And I was able to use the WiFi at “AirDogs” by putting in “AirDo” as a password. Go figure.

My flight was basically me, a bunch of Guatemalans, and a huge group of Southern Baptist missionaries. The flight attendant talked to all the missionaries, but talked to me in Spanish. And gave me a Spanish customs form. So I think perhaps she thought I was hispanic.

Then I was stuck in Miami for a 5-hour layover. Which was slightly confusing, since it's in the states, but everyone continued to speak Spanish.

The guy at immigration asked, “what were you doing in Guatemala?” “Learning Spanish.” “Ah, how'd that go?” “So-so?” “Cuanto apprendiste?” And then I thought, oh shit, now I have to answer in Spanish. And if I can't, he won't believe me! So I said, “Yo apprendi un poco, pero no tan mucho que yo quiero.” Which may or not be correct, but probably vaguely makes sense.

After making it through customs, immigration, and re-checking my bag, I bought 24 hours of WiFi and settled down in a restaurant, where I spoke Spanish to my waiter.

While waiting for my flight to Orlando (I really probably could've driven to Orlando in the same amount of time), a woman from Ecuador asked me to borrow my computer, and I ended up having an entire conversation in Spanish with that family, too.

And then, at long last, after a 39-minute flight, I made it back to Orlando, and my Mom picked me up on time. (For which I was very glad, since I was entirely phone-less.)

El fin.

estoy teniendo sentido (yo espero)

This is destined to be an entry about odds and end that I haven't thought to write about before. I wish I was better about jotting down notes about what I want to write about. Sigh.

Last night, the son in my house (who is 24) insisted that the other student in the house and I both tell a joke. Of course, I don't know any jokes in Spanish. (Okay, that's not entirely true. I know a dirty joke or two, and one really silly one.) So we both translated jokes from English, which is a somewhat painful process. Z's joke was about an oso (bear) and a raton (mouse). Except he kept forgetting the word for oso every 30 seconds, which was itself entertaining. I told a joke with which many of you are likely familiar – the duck joke. With the voice. Except I was unable to do the voice and talk in Spanish at the same time (guess I need to work on that!). But hey, now I know the word for nail (clavo) and duck (pato). I managed to translate all of it except the part where he says “flat feet”--I cheated and just said “feet.”

Oh, by the way, for my mother—to tell a joke is “contar un chieste.”

Another completely unrelated story. I was talking to my Guatemalan friend this past weekend, and at some point I mentioned that my roof (of my apartment) has an amazing view, but I'm not actually allowed up there. He asked why, and I thought about chicken buses, and riding in the back of pickups, and running across streets in front of cars, etc. . . . and I realized that this concept would make no sense to him. Because the answer is 'it's dangerous,' except it's not—you're not really going to fall off the roof. But it's dangerous in the uber-cautious, always-worried-about-being-sued culture in the US. So I tried to explain the concept of worrying about liability, which was the closest I could get to an explanation that made any sense.

In spansh, “tiene sentido”--have sense. I think that's probably the hardest thing about learning Spanish. Trying to remember crap like that. Similar to all the prepositions, which bear little resemblance to English. I now have so much more sympathy for non-native speakers struggling with prepositions in English. They're hard because they're situation-specific, and I can't think of any good way to turn them into flash cards. Another example: instead of making someone understand, you would give them understanding. Prepositions are even worse. When you think about something, you “pensar en (in),” and when you dream about something you “sonar con (with).” Leaving a place requires a “de” (of) and almost anything you can think to do to a person (talk to them, look for them, etc.) requires an “a.”

Of course, one of the funny parts about learning another language is realizing curiosities about your own. My friend pointed out that in English you get on a bus, but you get in a car. I objected that the same was true in Spanish, since you 'subir' a bus, and not a car – only to have it pointed out that you actually can 'subir' a car, too.

And the verbs drive and ride make no sense in English, either. If you ride a motorcycle, you're driving, but if you're riding in a car, you're definitely NOT driving.

The one thing that is close to impossible for me right now is trying to figure out which to use between estar/ser and imperfecto/preterito. I usually know which is correct between estar/ser and which is correct between imperfecto/preterito, but when I have to make a decision about both at one time, my brain is just overwhelmed. I just made a chart so that I could visualize the four choices better, but it's still really hard. (For those who have never taken Spanish, ser and estar both mean 'to be', but they're used in different situations. Preterito is simple past tense – like “I walked.” Imperfecto is a different type of past tense which I think translates sort of like “I had walked” or “I used to walk.” Effectively, this means that there are four different ways of saying that something “was”--and each is correct in different situations.)

As I wind up my time here, I wish I spoke better Spanish, BUT if I think about it, I know I've learned sooo much in 6 weeks. Grammar-wise, I've learned more in 6 weeks than I did in more than a year in school. While there's still about 5 trillion tenses I don't know, I know all that I need to know to communicate sufficiently. My hope is that I've learned enough to allow me to practice on my own with comprehension. I.e., now it's time for me to start watching telenovelas in Spanish, but I have some chance of understanding some of it. I also am worried that when confronted with a Cuban or Dominican accent, I won't understand a thing.

One of my friends told me she hopes I'm able to take a little bit of my Guatemalan self back with me to NYC. I liked that. I've been collecting Guatemalan and other Latin music to aid in that endeavor. (There aren't a ton of Guatemalan bands, actually, but there are a few.) My teacher is very useful for things like this. He recommends music and rum. Although I swear all the guys here, if not romantics in life, are romantics in music. They sing all the words to the song, con gusto! It's cute. And they like these beautiful, romantic songs.

Guatemalans take their music seriously. One funny thing is that the chicken buses, which are pieces of crap, with seats and windows, etc., that are falling apart, are often equipped with nice(ish) stereo systems to blare latin music during the trips.

lago atitlan

Back from Lake Atitlan! As anticipated, I really didn't want to leave. If my travel partner (we'll call him S) hadn't needed to work tomorrow, I totally would've stayed for another day . . . or three.

Getting there was a bit of an adventure. We got to the Xela bus terminal (and when I say 'terminal', I actually mean a street lined with so many buses that it's impossible to breathe) a little after 9. Unfortunately, there was no bus service to either Panajchel or San Pedro (both towns on the lake) until at least 10. S didn't want to wait, so we hopped on a bus headed to Guate. After an hour or so, we got off at some small town, where the turn off is to go to the lake.

Unfortunately, there was very little traffic on the road. We thought we might just need to wait until the bus from Xela arrived, but then a microbus pulled up. They weren't going to San Pedro, but they insisted that if we went with them to Santa Clara, we'd be able to catch a bus there to San Pedro. So we hopped into this microbus. (A microbus is actually just a van. Larger than a minivan, but possibly not as wide as a full-size conversion van.) I counted, I think, 24 people in this microbus, including ourselves. I was lucky enough to have a seat, albeit with a little child halfway on my lap, whereas S was sitting on a overturned bucket that was functioning as additional seating. We were both in better straights than the several people who were simply standing.

When we arrived in Santa Clara, we realized we may not have made an entirely excellent choice. Santa Clara was very tiny, and there was very little traffic. We asked a guy who said to take a pickup truck, but we didn't see any. I was starting to feel like we were stuck in that (I think it's Archimedes') paradox, where every time, you go half way, and thus never actually reach your destination. Anyway, after wandering around for awhile, we at last found a pickup headed to San Marcos, by way of San Pablo. (Not our intended destination, but we figured it would work.)

We hop in the back of this pickup truck, and somewhere around 25 people jump in with us. There's nothing like holding hands with a bunch of strangers because you're all trying to get a handhold so as to not fall down. There was a guy selling pigs (you know, live ones) nearby, and one of the indigenous women, at the very last minute, decided to buy a pig. The guy throws the pick in a burlap sack, ties it up, and tosses it in the back of the pickup right in the middle of all the people.

The pig was freaking out. (I mean, it was in a bag, duh!) It kept running into people's legs, and they'd kick it away. It was squealing and snorting. I felt so bad for the pig. “Oh, the poor coche!” I kept exclaiming. (Side note: while “coche” is car in most Spanish-speaking countries, it's pig in Guatemala. “Carro” is car.) S is like, “it's just a pig. What do you think they're going to do with it when they get home?” S's mother's family were butchers and he and I have very different views regarding animals.

Anyway, the truck ride was certainly interesting. It was going down incredibly windy mountain roads to get to the lake. Think Pike's Peak-like roads. Except really narrow, no guard rails, and no visibility. When chicken buses come around blind curves (and the pickup in places) they just honk to warn other cars to stay out of the way. So, not only are we going down my favorite type of road, but I am standing in the back of a pickup truck with a squealing pig, a little kid literally grabbing my leg, another kid leaning against me, and lots of random people grasping my hand on the handrail. One of my “if you could only see me now moments.”

Not to mention that I was the only gringo in sight for literally 100% of this trip.

We finally made it to San Marcos, by way of San Pablo. San Marcos was beautiful. We wandered all the way down to the dock, where we found that we could catch a lancha (boat) to Jaibalito, where we were staying, every 20 minutes. Thus, we decided to have lunch. There's a lot of gringos in San Marcos, as it sort of has a yoga/meditation/wellness type vibe or focus. Walking through the town is cool. Once you leave the main road, you're just walking through these little garden paths. We ended up wandering to this wood-burning oven pizza place that was sort of off of the beaten path – and completely empty. We were the only ones there, so we got to claim a table on adorable second-story patio. The pizza was pretty decent, and the Gallo and water were quite nice after the journey.

From San Marcos, we caught a lancha to Jaibalito, the town in which our hotel was located. In fact, the hotel has its own dock, so the dropped us right off there. The hotel is basically built into a cliff. It's a bit of steep climb up stone stairs to get to the office and cafe. There's only 16 rooms, and they're spread out all over, across various paths that lead up and down and left and right. Along those paths, there's also all of these patios and places to sit, all of which have stunning views of the lake.

The view from our room was stunning. Because of the angle of the rooms built into the cliffs, when laying on the bed, you look straight out this window onto the lake and there's nothing – NOTHING – blocking your view. And, because of where Jaibalito is located, you have a perfect view of both volcanoes. From the room. Frickin' awesome.

We mostly just hung out at the hotel and admired the lake for the rest of the day. At 6:30 there was a “family style” dinner where we ate with the other guests. Turned out there were only 4 other people in the hotel that night. 2 American girls, one of whom had just spent 3 months in Antigua, an American guy who'd been working for an NGO in Guate City for 4 years, and his Guatemalan girlfriend. (I think S was glad he wasn't the only Guatemalan, as he had been positive the hotel would be full of gringos and that he'd be the only Guatemalan). It ended up being like a four-course meal, and was really amazing. Afterwards, we just hung out on the porch of the cafe in a hammock, listening to latin music and looking at the lights of all the pueblos around the lake. (There are, I believe, 10 different towns scattered around the lake. Some of them, like Jaibalito, are only reachable by boat. In addition, there appear to be scattered private residences around.)

As a side note, the shower in the hotel was far and away the absolute best shower I've had in Guatemala. The hotel uses fancy solar power to heat their water, and boy was it hot. And it had amazing water pressure. Did I mention I didn't want to leave the hotel?

This (Sunday) morning, we had breakfast at the hotel and caught a lancha to Panajchel, which my guidebook refers to as “Gringotenango” (place of the Gringos – in one or more of the Mayan languages). In Pana we caught a tuk tuk (oh, I really should have a picture of those. They're three-wheeled motorbikes with a back seat, basically. They're the same thing as CNGs in Bangladesh) to a nature reserve. The nature reserve was pretty gorgeous, although I wish I'd done the zip line. S wasn't that thrilled about zip-lining, and he's done it quite a few times before. I, of course, am hesitant to zip line because I'm scared of heights. But, I figured they just push you off and you can't do anything about it, so it's work out for me.

Anyway, instead, we just walked around the nature trails, which were gorgeous. We went to a beautiful waterfall, and walked over a gazillion swinging bridges made from rope and wood (and, admittedly, wire, although that doesn't make you feel much better about the pieces of rotting wood). We followed a path that took us back to the lake, to a nice secluded area without any boat traffic.

After the nature reserve, we had some really yummy Italian food back in Pana, and then spent the afternoon souvenir shopping (since I'm leaving in 6 days!). We missed the last direct bus to Xela, so S decided we should hop on a bus to Solala. From there, we got on a ridiculously full chicken bus to some other unknown destination. On that chicken bus, we were standing (/falling) for the majority of the time, although I eventually got a seat next to a breast-feeding mother, who had no particular shyness about breastfeeding in public.

From wherever we were, we got a third and final chicken bus to Xela, which was even more full. I spent a lot of time sitting with about ¼ of my butt on a seat that already had two full-grown men on it (remember, these are school buses, so the seats are made for two children), with my knees wedged across the aisle to keep from falling as we went around all the curvy mountain roads. Eventually, I actually got a (real) seat, although with S also trying to cram on the other side of me. I actually passed out. I woke up when the other guy next to me needed to get off, and decided that I must've gotten pretty comfortable in Guatemala to actually fall asleep on a chicken bus.

And that was pretty much the trip. I was tired when we got back to Xela, so I took a taxi (that cost more than all of the day's chicken bus rides combined) home.

muchos cambios hoy

I'm having a bit of an odd day, which really began yesterday. First, Janet, who is one of the sisters who runs the school, showed up at my door right before lunch yesterday. The first thing I could think of was that I was in trouble, although that's clearly a pretty absurd proposition. (She's seen me with one of the teachers after school 15 minutes before that, which gave rise to my fear, but really, only the teachers get in trouble—not the students.)

Anyway, she came to tell me that I needed to change houses today (Friday), because some girl from Denmark was arriving and she'd already been promised my room. I didn't really catch the details of why she'd been promised my room – I was paying more attention to the part where I had to leave.

Then, to make my day even weirder, my teacher sent me a text message at about 5:30 to tell me he was in a motorcycle accident and wouldn't be at school today. So I called him and found out that he was in the hospital and he broke his arm, but was otherwise okay. This is the second time he's broken the same arm in 6 months. (Although I guess last time it was a wrist and he didn't break it on his motorcycle). I asked if he was okay, and said, 'no! I broke my arm!' Poor kid. He's had a year with a lot of problems. Hopefully he'll be okay. Actually, rumor has it that the bigger problem is that he hit a girl in the street, who is in much worse shape than he is, which is realy what he needed to deal with today. I just hope everything works out okay.

But yeah, so today I had another teacher (one I know, but not very well), and then after school I immediately moved houses. Now I'm in a house with another student I know (who has been in the school a few weeks longer than me, actually). It's a bit weird, because he's pretty tight with his family. One of my other friends lived in this room I'm now living in, but she left last week.

Anyway, it'll be okay. It's just for a week, and this is a very, very pretty house. Even prettier than my last house, probably. And, I'm not going to be here this weekend.

This weekend I'm finally going to Lake Atitlan, which I am really excited about. It's supposed to be the most beautiful lake in the world, and not just according to Guatemaltecos! I leave in the morning, and I have a reservation at a hotel that's supposed to be incredibly nice with amazing views. It's in a sort of secluded town that can only be reached by boat.

Now the only question is what I want to spend my last Friday night in Xela. (I figured out that my flight is at 10 am Saturday, so I'll have to head to Guate Friday night to make my flight – ugh.)

cerrar con llave

I'm always amused by the ways in which Spanish and English are unexpectedly the same, and ways in which they are surprisingly different. Turns out there's not really a word for “lock” in Spanish, at least the way we use it. Instead of saying 'lock the door,' you say, 'close the door with a key.' But there is a word for locking, for example, your phone-although I think it mostly amounts to saying 'the phone is blocked.'

On the other hand, other phrases make perfect sense. Jose will tell me expressions in Spanish, and I'll frequently remark that they also exist in English. And, you can say the floor is hard, but also that you work hard in Spanish—same word, much like in English.

This week I've been sick. On Tuesday morning, Jose and I took a field trip. (Apparently an equivalent word doesn't exist in Spanish, although the idea of saying campoviaje amuses me. Also, they don't take field trips in Guatemala, which may be why they don't have a word for it.) Anyway, we went to the pharmacy to buy medicine. I asked for something for congestion, and they gave me nose drops. So I asked for a pill, and got “Panadol,” which appeared to be akin to Tylenol Cold & Sinus. It amused me because it had the 'GSK' logo on it. I noticed when we came in that the shelves were organized by pharmaceutical company—mostly companies I knew very well (aventis, glaxosmithkline, etc.) but with medicines I'd never heard of before. Anyway, Panadol seems to work just fine, and hopefully I'll get better without developing an ear infection or anything. I really don't want to have to try to go to a doctor in Guatemala.

I've just been trying to take it easy the last few days, and thus haven't done much of anything interesting, unfortunately. I've skipped out on the activities the last few days in order to sleep and rest more.

semuc champey

So my friend that I met my first week in Xela, who lives in Guate City with his girlfriend, and I have been talking about a weekend trip for a few weeks. On Thursday, he suggested we go to Semuc Chemey, which are these beautiful waterfalls/pools/mountains a few hours from Coban, which is itself four or more hours from Guate City. We finally actually got to talking plans at about 7 pm on Thursday night, at which point I realized I needed to miss class on Friday in order to make it to Guate in time to leave with S&J to Coban. So, at that point, I sent my teacher a facebook message to tell him that I wasn't going to be in class -- since I realized I didn't have his phone number.

I wasn't entirely sure which bus lines were going to have an 8 am bus, since it was too late to really figure that out. Xela Who magazine claimed Linea Dorada had one, and everyone always says they're the nicest. I packed a little bag, slept a little, and at 7:15 caught a cab to the terminal, where they told me they only had a 4 am and 2:30 pm bus. Damn. Luckily, I knew where I was, and that the Alamo terminal was only a few blocks away, so I wondered over there. They indeed had an 8 am bus, which I made with plenty of extra time. I was the only gringo on the bus.

S sent me a text with his address, and I eventually managed to get a taxi to take me there. Their apartment is absolutely beautiful, in Zone 15 of the City, which is fairly nice. S was vaguely impressed that I managed to get there, I think. Probably because my Spanish was completely awful the last time he'd seen me.

After a sandwich and a trip to the ATM, we caught a 2:45 bus to Coban. The going was pretty slow, as there were several places where passes were really terrible from landslides and the cars going in opposite directions had to take turns. Driving on a bus in pitch black on very twisty turny mountain roads is not scary at all, really.

Thankfully, the bus dropped us off just about 2 or 3 blocks from the hostel we were staying at. The hostel was really tiny (and very pretty) with a very nice restaurant attached to it. They had two dormitories with 4 beds each, so we were able to claim one of those for ourselves. We headed out in search of flashlights, toothbrushes, food, and beer, but found Coban to be entirely silent and mostly deserted. We did manage to find a store that sold flashlights but not toothbrushes (go figure). We found a bar/dance club which was completely empty. The people there were kind enough of point us in the direction of a Chinese restaurant, which actually turned out to be pretty good, albeit entertaining. I ordered sweet and sour pork (agriodulce in Spanish), and the waitress was insistent that I understood that it included bones. Huesos? Yes, huesos. Yo entiendo!

After that, we checked by the "club" to see if a crowd had appeared yet, but no such luck. In reality, we were all really exhausted (and I was still fighting off my head cold), so we just retired to our room to read and sleep. [[Side Note: I just finished the book 'The Art of Political Murder: Who killed the bishop? which was an excellent book. It is a sort of journalism-style book about one of the most famous murders in Guatemala history, which took place in 1998. It also is incredibly interesting and informative, and you'll learn a lot about Guatemala. Mom, you shouldn't read it until I'm home. ]]

Bright and early Saturday morning, we headed out on our tour of Semuc Chempey and some caves. The tour group was the three of us and two other couples who were staying in the hostel. One was from England and the other was from Italy/Switzerland. Plus our tour guide and the driver. We drove through absolutely beautiful country, but that's basically true of all of Guatemala. Once we got to a small Pueblo, we got out and switched to a jeep. Three of us had to cram in the back of the jeep, which was very much not comfortable. (Our guide rode outside on the spare tire, and somehow seemed to be more comfortable than us.)

We got to this hotel in the middle of nowhere where we picked up two more girls and stopped for a beer. From there we walked about 2km through the mud (ewww!) to Semuc Chempey. Once we got there, our guide gave us the choice of heading to the viewpoint first or the pools first. I was already exhausted by the time we got there, what with trying not to fall in the mud and whatnot, so I voted pools. Everyone else voted viewpoint, even though our guide explained that it was 45 minutes straight uphill.

I seriously could not keep up with everyone, but I did eventually make it up. This was a pretty damn steep climb, much of which consisted of very steep stone or wooden stairs (each a foot tall, which is even weirder when considering the average height of a Guatemalan). Rudy stayed back with me to make sure that I'd make it. He kept telling me "Si puedes" (yes you can), and I kept responding that this was horrible. (Or, rather, 'horible,' which is way more fun to say.) I did eventually make it, and I had to admit that the viewpoint was pretty magnificent. Basically, you're looking down into a river that cuts through the mountains. It begins as very large water falls, trickles down through 6 or 7 crystal clear, incredibly tranquil pools, and then eventually resumes its course as a rushing river. The bottoms of the pools were rock, not dirt, which probably helped with the beautiful clarity.

After our lunches, we headed downhill to the pools. I wasn't tired on the downhill trek, but I was struggling to keep up since I did not want to move too quickly and fall down the mountain (which didn't look like it would be that difficult). At the bottom we shed our shoes for flip flops and waded into the top of the pools near the big waterfall. Rudy showed us the hole that the water rushes into, where you would die if you fell in. We took a lot of photos, and then headed back to change into swimsuits and swim!

Swimming was amazing. Rudy had us jumping from one pool into the next one down. (This is why having a guide is important; he told us exactly from where to jump.) These ranged in height from 2-3 feet up to maybe 10 or 15 feet. It was terrifying, but awesome. In between the jumps we got to swim leisurely through the pools.

I'm not sure I've seen anything more beautiful. When resting in the pools, we were surrounded by beautiful green mountains, trickling water falls, roaring waterfalls in the distance . . .

Rudy was worried about me when we were walking across walks between pools, etc. I had a small head cold, and it turned out my typically horrendous balance was even worse than usual. (Actually, i'm not sure my balance is usually horrendous. It's much better than many other of my physical attributes.) In any case, trying to balance on slippery rocks with a head cold is not the most brilliant idea, but, hey, I'm alive and such.

After swimming we hitched a ride in our cramped jeep back to the hotel for a short break (and another cerveza), and then we headed to the caves. The caves are sacred for the Maya that live around there. (Our guide was Mayan. As is not too uncommon in Guatemala, particularly in rural areas, his mother doesn't speak Spanish -- only K'iche, one of the many Maya languages.)

Throughout the caves, Rudy pointed out all the rock formations that look like animals and objects, and he also showed us an area which is an ancient Maya sacrificial altar. (He also insisted that despite stories to the contrary, the Mayan did not sacrifice humans, only animals). Around the altar, the rock is all black from years of fire. (The rest of the rock is close to white).

Around sunset, we went and sat in the entrance to the cave and watched all the bats (hundreds of thousands) fly out. It was fairly intense.

Apparently if you go on the two-day tour, there's another cave you can visit and tube through. The one we went in has carved paths for walking, although when you get to the end, you can see that the caves goes on and on. Rudy says they've explored it 18 km past that point.

And that was pretty much the trip. It seems to take FOREVER to get back to our hostel in Coban, and all we wanted was a hot shower. We were covered in mud and our clothes/bathing suits were still damp. Unfortunately, upon arrival in the hostel, we discovered no sign of the hot water the hostel claimed existed. So, instead, we changed into clean clothes and ate a ridiculously huge meal at the very nice restaurant attached to the hostel.

In the morning, there actually was hot water (turns out it had been broken), and I had the best shower I've had since arriving in Guatemala. Unfortunately, I think had to put back on my mud-caked jeans, as I failed to bring more than one pair of pants with me. D'oh!

me siento un poquita mala

I think I'm finally coming down with the cold/sore throat that has been going around the school for the last month. Crap. Perhaps I overdid it a bit this week.

On Monday, for my birthday, I ended up being out until almost 4 am. Oops. I did make it to school the next day, but a bit late. My teacher, who actually was with me for the whole night, was on time and in much better shape than I was, I think.

On Mondays, the activity at the school is usually to teach English to kids in public school. Except, it hadn't happened for various reasons for my first three weeks here. (Independence week; the week after independence week; rain). I wasn't going to sign up on Monday, but my teacher is in charge of the afternoon activities this week, and he made me. They needed at least four students, and they were short one. I didn't understand why they needed at least four students until I got there. It's because there's 4 classes of maybe 20 or 25 11- or 12-yr-old boys.* Basically, Jose handed me a sheet of paper with the family tree on it and told me to teach them the words for the family.

Talk about ridiculous. And intimidating. I thought it was going to be one-on-one tutoring, which I felt like I could do. But no. And this is effectively the equivalent of an inner-city school in America. The kids don't sit still--ever. My kids were jumping up and down, yelling at each other, making paper hats and paper airplanes, etc. I didn't succeed in getting them to write anything down. About the only thing I could do was get them to repeat the vocabulary words.

And, to make matters worse, I tried to combine it with a phrase about names, which they had theoretically learned before. So I wrote down the phrase 'what is his/her name?' and 'his/her name is ... ?' Then I tried to ask a couple students individually--which just freaked them out. I successfully asked one boy the name of his mother before totally messing up and asking this other boy the name of his father. And then he had to explain to me that he didn't know because he didn't have a father. Yup, I'm a terrible person.

*As a weird side note, the reason that the class was only boys is that in the public schools in Guatemala, the girls (or boys) go to school in the mornings and the boys (or girls) go to school in the afternoon. In this particular school, the girls are in the morning, so it's only boys in the afternoon. In the colegios (the private schools), they all go to school only in the morning--at least in the lower grades. The kid in my house is home for lunch every day (as are the older brothers who work).

Today we played futbol again. I think I did maybe slightly better this time. At least for the first half of the game. By the second half of the game I felt like I was about to collapse. It was really sunny and warm in the sun today, but the air was really cold and hurt my lungs. It's actually gotten colder the last few days. The padre of my family said it was 4 degrees the other morning, which I guess is about 40 degrees fahrenheit. I find it interesting that they only use the metric system here, EXCEPT for weight, which they do in pounds. Go figure.

I can't believe my time here is running out so frickin' quickly. I only have two weeks left after this one, and this one's almost done, too. It's insane. It's going by too quickly. I wish time would slow down so I didn't have to leave so soon. I'm also running out of traveling time, but the weather has actually been absolutely beautiful this week, so maybe I'll go somewhere this weekend?