A lesson learned

Against my better judgment, before coming down to Guatemala, I decided to try to book a shuttle in advance from the airport to Panajachel. I've only ever traveled by bus in Guatemala, but I thought that having a shuttle waiting for me at the airport and taking me to Antigua and then on to Pana would be a nice treat after taking two flights down. Also, I am only able to visit Colleen and Shad for a week, so it seemed like a worthwhile convenience.

Now, it is totally possible to get shuttles from the airport to almost anywhere, or to have a hotel or travel agency arrange a shuttle for you. But I wanted to book a shared shuttle in advance, instead of trying to get one from the airport. Upon arriving at the airport, if there aren't any other people going to the same place, you could get stuck having to pay for a private shuttle or taxi. And I was arriving in Guatemala City early enough in the day to travel on to the lake instead of staying a night in the city, so I didn't have a hostel or hotel to arrange a shuttle. So, I found one online that allowed me to make a reservation by paying a $5 deposit with a credit card. The rest, $20 would be due upon arrival. $25 one way is definitely more than a shared shuttle secured here would cost, but again, it seemed like it might be a justified indulgence on this trip. I was due in at the airport at 9:20am and the shuttle was supposed to pick me up at 10:30 am. I had my doubts that it would all work out as planned, but decided to be optimistic.

My flight got into Guate a little after 9am, so I was pretty early. But I had been told that if I was a no-show, my card would be charged the full amount. So, I decided to wait for the shuttle - again, against my better judgment. I hung around outside the airport with the other people waiting for friends and relatives, selling papers and candy, trying to lure people into taxis and shuttles, or just seemingly watching the day go by. 10:30 came and went. I decided I had to give it until 11am before abandoning the shuttle plan. Meanwhile, I was thinking about how far I already could have gotten if I had just set out upon arriving at the airport.

At 11am, there was still no sign of the shuttle, and I gave up. I decided to take a taxi to the spot where I could hop on a bus. Not being sure how far it was from the airport, I decided that if a driver quoted me a price of $10 or more for the ride, then I could be 100% sure that I was being quoted a ridiculous fare. I asked the drivers if they could take me to the place in Zona 8 where the buses left from. They consulted with each other to decide where it was I meant - I didn't have anything more specific to add. A driver quoted me a price of 70 quetzales - a little under $10. I had a feeling this was too much, but I wasn't fully switched into negotiating mode yet. And of course it's harder to negotiate when you don't actually know what a fair price is.

But, I should have just known that, being a tourist with a backpack at the airport, there wasn't any doubt that the price could go down. Approximately 5 minutes after getting in the taxi, we pulled into a rode lined with chicken buses. I thought about arguing with the driver at that point, but I had willingly agreed to a price. I decided to let it go and chalk it up to one of those errors you make when you're either new to or out of practice with traveling. Plus, I probably made the driver's day.

The rest of my trip to the lake cost a mere fraction of that one, short taxi ride. I hopped on a Xela-bound bus and rode it for about 2.5 hours until I hopped off at Los Encuentros, a busy (relatively speaking) junction where I could catch a bus to Solola. That 2.5 hour bus ride cost 25Q - about $3. The half hour bus down to Solola cost me 2.50Q - maybe 30 cents or so. In Solola, I remembered from years ago to cross the square and find a smaller bus down to Pana. As I walked through the square, I heard a boy shouting "Pana!" and I followed his call. The last leg was very crowded - three to a seat, but no people standing. It's a short ride down to Pana, taking 10-15 minutes and costing 3Q. So, my whole trip to the lake cost less than 30Q - not even $4. And, although I was a bit tired at the end of it all, I was also reminded of how much I like riding the buses. Windows open, vendors getting on with candies, fruits, water, and treats at all the busy junctions, and music providing a festive soundtrack for the journey. So, that's my lesson learned. Stick with the buses. And be ready to negotiate upon arrival!

In Pana, I wandered around the intersection of Calle Santander and Calle Principal, looking for the cafe where I was supposed to meet Colleen. Of course, she spotted me first and came out running, with a huge smile. We hugged in the middle of the road, and then I went with her to where Shad and a friend of theirs was waiting. We still had a boat ride and a trek up a hill to tackle before getting to Colleen and Shad's place, but first a few Gallos were in order...

(a belated) Feliz Dia De La Madre!

I called my mom on Saturday to wish her a happy Mother's Day a day early, as I would be traveling to Guatemala on Sunday. I promised her that Colleen and I would dedicate a toast to her together from Guatemala. I think, for my mother, the call and this promise were great Mother's Day presents. She and my dad were on the road, anyway, - headed to their new life in Hawaii, so I had nowhere to send a card.

Mother's Day in Guatemala was on Monday - a day after my trip down. But on the first leg of my travels, a plane trip from DC to San Salvador on Sunday, well wishes were bestowed upon all the mothers on board in multiple ways. Announcements were made at the beginning and end of the plane trip. And towards the end, the captain read a poem aloud that he had written for his mother. Then, the flight attendants sang a song together, dedicated to mothers. Afterwards, another flight attendant played a guitar and lead the passengers in song. It was a song praising mothers that most people on board seemed to know.

Perhaps prompted by all the singing, the passenger next to me told me that he was heading home to northern Guatemala to surprise his mother for Mother's Day. "Que buen sorpresa!" I commented in response. Little did I know. Turns out, he hasn't seen his mom since he left for the States ---- in 1990! I suggested that, after 20 years of not seeing one another, perhaps he should call ahead . . .

The next leg of my trip was a flight from San Salvador to Guatemala City. The passenger next to me on that flight was also going home to surprise her mother. She had been back for a visit a little over a year ago, so perhaps the dramatic effect was a bit less than that of my first flight companion, but still . . .

Colleen and I toasted our mom later that afternoon, shortly after I met up with her and Shad in Panajachel. I last saw her in August, and although I've been to Guatemala before, this is my first visit since she and Shad moved here, almost 2 years ago. So, the reunion was very exciting and it seemed fitting to lift our drinks in a joint toast to our mom who was, I am sure, overjoyed to know we were thinking of here while enjoying some time together down here.

So, to my mother and all the mothers out there, a very happy (belated) Mother's Day!

Off the beaten path...but not in a good way

My upcoming visit to Guatemala has me traveling down memory lane...and down - or almost off - some scary lanes.

I'm not talking about rare, off-the-beaten-path, supposedly "non-touristy" local finds. Instead, I'm thinking of near misses - and, in one case, an actual accident - while traveling cheaply in Guatemala, Mexico, and the Philippines.

What got me started is the memory I have of leaving San Marcos La Laguna on Lago de Atitlan after my first visit there, in 2003. I had traveled to San Marcos like most people do - on a launcha across the lake from Panajachel, the starting point for most travelers visiting the lake. But when I left, I hopped in the back of a pick-up truck charging a modest fee (was it $1? $1.50?) to take passengers up to the road where buses to other destinations went by. The back of the truck was fairly full, but not jam-packed, and there were incredible views as we went up, up, up to the Santa Ana road. The road up away from the lake isn't the most treacherous road you could ever encounter, but, if memory serves, it is a windy, curvy road with some sheer drop-offs. The kind that give you a fright when you realize the driver doesn't know what's coming when he barrels around a curve. That day, we just had one, fairly non-scary, near-miss. Our driver honked before rounding a curve, as did the other driver, and both vehicles screeched to a halt mid-curve, without actually colliding or sending anyone tumbling. A few shrieks and exclamations of fear as it was happening, and then we were on our way again. Well, after the laborious process of backing DOWN the curvy road until we could idle somewhere where the other driver could pass by. Phew. No big deal. I had one other incident like that, on my way to Lago de Atitlan, traveling through Guatemala from Tikal and avoiding the major hub of Guatemala City. That time, I think bumpers actually touched, but again, no real damage to vehicle or passengers, and we were soon on our way.

But these were minor events. Another near-miss, in the Philippines, was far more exiting. In 2001, I spent the summer volunteering with an environmental organization on the island of Palawan. I would frequently travel across the island from where I was based, in Puerto Princesa, to the town of Sabang, where a gorgeous national park and underground river offer lots of opportunities for hiking and exploring. On one such trip, I got stuck in Sabang longer than I'd planned, due to a monsoon. The roads were flooded, and the jeepneys weren't running.

A jeepney is like the Filipino version of a Latin American chicken bus (see the generic photo above). Old, ex-US military vehicles, they are the cheapest way to travel distances in the Philippines. What's best about them is that you can ride on top. I confess, I disregarded local practice a bit by riding on top, as usually women and children ride inside the vehicle. But riding on top was way more scenic, and fun. And, truth be told, I'm positive it was safer. Although men gallantly gave their seats up to women and children, being forced to hang off the back or the sides if there is no space left on top, the inside was often jam-packed. I rode inside once. In the case of an accident, I'm sure no one could have gotten out. And it was just plain uncomfortable. Instead, I preferred to ride on top, preferably claiming a prime spot on top of a sack of rice (which provided padding over the roof-rack type rails).

So, on the day in question, I found a spot on top and happily watched the scenery pass on my way back to Puerto Princesa. That is, until we rounded a corner in the mud...and went up on two wheels. On the edge of a somewhat impressive 30-40 foot drop down rugged terrain littered with rocks, trees, and general jungle growth. I'm talking about a big, rugged military jeep slipping and sliding and eventually tilting over to one side so much that two wheels came off the ground. On top, I gripped the rails and felt the jeepney hit a point of equilibrium. We hung there, balanced on two wheels, for what seemed like a full minute or two. But I'm sure it was about 5 seconds in reality. In that moment (seconds), it could have gone either way. We were either about to go toppling, top before bottom, down the hillside, or gravity would manage to pull us the other way, back into position on the road. I'm happy to say, four wheels ended up on the road again very soon. And the rest of the ride was uneventful, if a bit cautious and slow. [Incidentally, had we gone tumbling, I think being on top would have provided the only real chance of surviving...at least I could have TRIED to throw myself clear.]

But what takes the cake is the time my collectivo driver fell asleep at the wheel in Chiapas, Mexico, (on a paved, not at all scary road) and the van, crammed with at least 14 people, crashed off the road and through about 30 feet of growth until we were finally stopped by a big mudpit. I have no idea how we missed the trees. As branches and debris crashed through the windows and I saw the person next to me go crashing forward into the person in the seat in front of him, I covered my eyes with my hands, my natural instinct being to protect my eyes. Not from the sights, but from the objects crashing in and the window glass flying around. When we finally came to rest, the van starting sinking into a vast mudpit. We had to crawl out the windows into several feet of mud and wade back up to the road. There were many bumps and scratches, but - thankfully - no serious injuries.

We weren't too far down the road from a military checkpoint, and officers soon appeared to document the events. In reality, they mostly shared cigarettes and chatted with the passengers while we waited for another collective or bus to come by with some spare room. And, after awhile, they seemed to realize that some work product might be a good thing...so they made my new friend, Eric, lift up his shirt while one solder took a photo of another solider pretending to examine his injuries. Of course, he didn't have any injuries (well, except for some scrapes on his leg - but they didn't photograph those). But the photo was dramatic enough, and they seemed satisfied.

I'm assuming my upcoming visit to see Colleen and Shad won't produce another story in this vein. But as my trip reminds me of old (and hopefully inspires some new) adventures, I'll be documenting them here...

Connecting with an old friend: lago de atitlan

So...this summer will mark 4 years since I started - and promptly ended - this blog. I started blogging because I was inspired by my 2006 trip to Brazil. Sadly, that trip was the last of my exciting travels outside the U.S. (little did I know it then) for several years. What can I say? Two words: law school. Three more: SAD, but true.

Last year, I got to head back to Dublin and visit with old college friends. Not the most exotic of destinations (although our excursion to the west did remind that Connemara can feel like the end of the earth), but it was fun, reassuring, and even exciting to dust off my passport after so many years of neglect. And - luckily - I get to return to Dublin again this summer for what is sure to be a fabulous wedding - and weekend of wedding-related festivities.

BUT FIRST, I just booked a trip to Guatemala FOR NEXT WEEK. Nothing says getting back into the game like a spur-of-the-moment decision to support Taca Airlines. In fairness, I have been intending to return to Guatemala ever since my little sis moved to Lago de Atitlan two years ago. But life just kept getting in my way.

Until two nights ago, when I realized I have a week off between my current work and my new job. A quick search came up with a roundtrip ticket for $362. Not bad. Some scrambling around online and a quick (and pleasant, and helpful) call to the Guatemalan Embassy reassured me that I will not have any problems related to the fact that my passport actually expires in July. [Note to self: renew passport immediately upon return - nothing says Congrats on your Wedding! like leaving an empty seat at the table because you were too careless to get a renewal in time.]

So, next weekend, I will dust off the ol' rucksack and hop on a plane, and a chicken bus, and a very small boat...and eventually end up in Tzununa, where my sister and her boyfriend are in the middle of building a home. On this, my fourth visit to Lago de Atitlan (but the first since Colleen moved there), I vow to take millions of photos and even post a pic or two.

In the meantime, I'll share some memories from the days I first visited the area. Coming soon.

Paradise Found...or..."Where there's a will, there's a way"

This past weekend, we visited the coastal town Jericoacoara. Renowned as one of the ten most beautiful beaches in the world, Jeri is also a popular destination for windsurfers. Above and beyond my almost obsessive passion for sea and sand, this latter detail kept my enthusiasm piqued despite the fact that our trip was a mandatory group excursion...which meant that all 30+ of us traveled in a big bus together and descended upon poor little Jeri en masse... a dynamic that leaves me unsettled at the best of times, and positively frustrated and disgusted at others. Yet our group is comprised of many interesting and enthusiastic people, so no matter what our group travels always represent the best of what I consider a not so ideal situation. And the magic of Jericoacoara soon soothed those feathers of mine that were ruffled in transit...

All of Jeri is one big pile of sand. The town is built on the sandy coastline, so all the roads and pathways are sand. The landscape is littered with 100-ft high dunes, and many of the sandy hills are covered with beach grass, giving the impression of rolling green pastures for as far as the eye can see. Here and there, some cacti sprout up, leaving one a bit disoriented as to location. Parts of the coastline are also rocky and craggy, creating the dramatic, land-meets-sea effect that I often associate with Ireland and parts of the British Isles. Jeri is on the "sunset coast" of Brazil...it is situated on a stretch of land that extends out in such a way that looking out over the water is actually looking west... so the sun sets over the water. On Saturday evening, myself and a few friends climbed a hill (i.e. a large dune covered in grass) from which we watched the sunset in one direction and looked out over the dunes, the town, and the marsh in the other direction. Pure bliss.

The town of Jericoacoara itself clearly exists soley for the purposes of tourism and would probably get old fairly quickly. It's the type of place like so many others where Brazilians and expats come and settle to escape from the 'real world.' As a result, it's full of little businesses owned by foreigners and catering to tourists. Not somewhere that I could stay indefinitely, but the landscape and the opportunities for outdoor activities are so attractive, that it certainly does represent paradise-on-earth, for awhile. We were only there for a day and a half in total, but I went hiking, swimming, and windsurfing in that short time. Also, it seems to be a popular place for accomplished chefs to take a little sabbatical and set-up shop, so some of the food, although price-y by Brazilan standards, was simply to die for.

I owe my kind and generous father (who knows me so well) many, many thanks because the windsurfing lessons that I took on Saturday were a surprise gift from him. The story that accompanies my experiences bears telling: On Saturday morning, I approached a couple on the beach who were sitting around a bunch of surfing and windsurfing gear and advertising lessons, hoping to avoid the expensive looking schools dotting the town. We began negotiating the length and cost of my lessons and I asked if they had a location where we could use a machine for me to pay by credit card, because I didn't have enough cash with me in Jeri to dish out for lessons (there are no ATMs or money changers). They looked at each other for a moment and then the woman, Cris, responded: "Sempre ha um jeito, ne?" Or: "There's always a way, isn't there?" So, I began. I had a lesson in the water for a little over an hour, and then rested on the beach. During this time, I asked if they wanted me to go with them then and pay, to which they responded that there was no rush. No rush to pay, only to learn and have fun. After resting, I continued for another hour and a half or so. There was a calm wind that day, which was perfect for learning. I learned a lot, and had fun. Afterwards, I went back to the guesthouse to retrieve my credit card and returned to meet my instructor and head off to pay. I had already mentioned that I was thinking about returning this coming weekend (we have the weekend free) in order to continue the lessons. On the way, I began inquiring about what sort of deal he could give me if I returned. Finally, he stopped and asked me if I was certain that I would be returning. At that point, I made a snap decision and told that I was returning "com certeza"... definitely. He then told me that I could pay when I return. Of course, the benefit for him is that when I return I will pay him in cash. But as it is, he let me just walk away on the assurance that I'll be returning to pay him in a week. What's more, the deal we then worked out is such that I will be able to windsurf for as long as I want for all three days that I am there, be it two hours, three hours, or all day. At first, I'll continue with instruction but by the end I should be practicing on my own and can go out, come back in, and go out again as much as I want. And at the end of it all, I'll pay him what amounts to a grand total of... about $75. Had I gone through a tourist company, I'd be paying at least that for one lesson! So now I am obligated to return to Jeri this weekend. As I said before, it's a tough life...

My life as a soap opera star...

I wonder if Mariana Ximenes, star of the Brazilian soap opera Cobras & Lagartos, knows that she´s been spotted several times in Fortaleza recently? I´m sure it would come as a surprise to her, especially were she to find out that the person who keeps getting mistaken for her is none other than little ol´me...that´s right, a gringa with blue eyes (instead of green) who bumbles around like a fool in heavily accented portuguese! Personally, I´m very flattered. And it´s a great conversation starter once people realize that I´m not in fact her. The fact that I would never otherwise be mistaken as Brazilian usually leads to quite a lot of chuckling. I´ve taken to watching her soap opera if I´m home at the right time so that I can discuss what´s going on in "my" life.

My body has now begun recovering from my first hour-long attempt at practicing capoeira... last week!! Talk about muscles that I never knew existed. Whew. Given my utter lack of grace and style when it comes to anything involving dance-like movement, my first class at a local gym was also the source of great amusement for the guys who were working out nearby. Luckily, I had a companion from Tucson who was willing to make a fool out of herself as well, so we simply laughed along with everyone else.

Other than that? I have a great host-sister, who I get along with very well. She´s a lot of fun and as a result I seem to have become a sort of ad-hoc social co-ordinator for much of the Arizona group because I´m frequently in-the-know about fun places to go. So far, my trip has been a lot of beaches and all-night samba and/or forro dancing, a little bit of Portuguese study, and some intense world cup fanaticism. Some of you may remember when I sent out a link to 2night.com New Orleans after my photo was posted from JazzFest? Well, if you´re so inclined, check out: www.eceara.com.br Along the left sidebar, click on the photo album for the Brazil vs. Ghana game, barraca crocobeach. I´m in a photo with some friends a few pages into the album, in a bright yellow Brazil shirt. The game was at noon this past Tuesday and as everything, including the Federal University where we have our classes, was closed for the entire day, we spent our time watching the game and frolicking on the beach. It´s a tough life...

xoxo

Rediscovering the Inner Tomboy

Climbing on Monday was fantastic! For whatever reason, however, I have a tendency to sacrifice the integrity of my body (by completely disregarding it) when there is a challenge to overcome. Last fall, my friend Liz's mom sent me a card in which she reminisced about watching me compete in a halloween bob-for-apples event at the stable where Liz and I used to train. I remember the event in question well because I was thrown from my Mustang pony about 75 times before completing the challenge and still managed to finish with one of the best times. In fact, I think I might have won...but that's slightly beside the point. Liz's mom sent me the card to remind me of all the times I climbed back on that pony during lessons, events, horseshows and the like until the day came when he could no longer shake me quite so easily. Since then, I have acquired many more bumps and bruises along the way. After overdoing the adventure activities on a family vacation in Hawaii, I will never forget backpacking through Eastern Europe with a severe ear infection, a black eye, and feet that looked like they had taken a trip through a meat grinder. Since I spent the first part of the trip hobbling and unable to ride up any elevators, I'm sure my traveling companion Nell remembers those days (uhh...fondly?) as well! My personal favorite, though, is the time that I re-fractured my foot less than a month before the Belfast marathon and then attempted and finished it anyway. Nevermind that I've gone running less than 10 times in the six years since then, or that the splinter of bone just sort of chillin' in my left foot occasionally stops minding its own business and reminds me that it's still there... I wanted a "Belfast Marathon 2000" medallion, and I got one! We all have our priorities, after all.

So it came as no surprise when we piled into Julie's car after climbing on Monday that my knees looked like they belonged to the corpse of some unfortunate soul who had just irish-jigged cross-country with her feet tucked up behind her butt. Can't quite conjur that image up? Let's just say: black and blue + scratched, scraped, red, and puffy = well, not pretty. And with less than a week to go before braving not only Brazilian beaches but Brazilian beachwear to boot, it was a little disheartening to realize that I had just transformed my pale, freckled skin into a virtual connect-the-dots masterpiece of scratches, scrapes, and mottled bruises. Oh, and let's not forget the odd sunburn on my back that vaguely resembles a sprouting set of wings...everytime I turn around and glance at it in the mirror, I find myself wondering whether or not we'll ever know what becomes of Warren Worthington III if they don't make a 4th X-men movie. Just call me Archangel Meg...

Yet up Mt. Lemmon at about 6500 feet, the temperature was mild (relatively speaking - 80s early on, 90 degrees or so by midday), the views were incredible, and our party of five had a good mix of climbing and getting-to-know-one-another banter to keep ourselves entertained. I wouldn't trade in a single moment of our day for scratch-free skin. The marks on my hide will fade and eventually heal; I hope the memories from Monday never do!

The images posted here are from our first and easiest climb. Unfortunately, my camera batteries died shortly thereafter. Ooops. I seem to have left my spare set behind in the mysterious black hole in which we all managed to leave our cash, sunblock, hiking shoes, and xtra food. When I get back in August and go again, I'll make sure to get more shots...and have someone else spread the sunscreen on my back!

I'll write next from Brazil... in the meantime, keep smiling!

Tucson June 2006

It's great being back in Tucson! With a little bit of time to just settle in, hang out, and play before I head to Brazil, the reality of my move back to Tucson has finally sunk in. As usual, I'm content with my new surroundings. There's just always so many wonderful things about any given location, that it's impossible to focus on the negatives unless you make it a point to do so...and now that the shadow of Katrina isn't looming over me, I'm back to recognizing all the positives and consequently not minding the negatives (such as the fact that there doesn't seem to be any water whatsoever out here in this darn desert...go figure).

Despite the remnants of cacti in my hands from an overly ambitious solo hike the other day, I'm loving the setting and scenery out here more than ever. I'm going outdoor climbing for the first time in my life on Monday, so I'll be able to check off one more item on that list of "things I've always wanted to do." Yippee! Seeing as how my climbing experience is limited to one trip to a climbing gym in Rhode Island years ago and one recent trip here in Tucson (with maybe one more to be squeezed in before Monday), I'm not overly confident in my body's ability to defy gravity. Should be fun and silly...look for photos here afterwards!

So...this will be the spot to check for news and photos from Brazil, Hawaii, and wherever else the coming weeks/months take me! More soon...