Leaving Honduras

Thankfully the school year is over, and I am hanging up my teaching hat for a while.
Leaving Honduras made me happy, I can not begin to tell you how claustrophobic and parochial Gracias (and pretty much all who sail within her) is (are).

And so a line (a lifeline) written before the tyranny of distance and narcotic influences of time erase the zeitgeist of the "Honduran era" of my life.

Leaving Gracias, after a sleepless night, I was sick as a parrot, and had managed to lie in bed all night willing myself to sleep, to, of course, no avail, My flatmates had held a party for me the night before, I had been too sick and wretched to enjoy it, I was the first to leave for bed. So bleary eyed I found my way to the bus, said my last goodbye and clambered aboard the ridiculous yellow school bus (another reject from Estados Unidos) the bus was blaring "Betty Davis eyes" and other hopelessly overdone  love songs from the 80s' at a ridiculous volume, the reverb distorting and richocheting off the windows was ludicrously real, it was a mixed blessing that the bus was going all the way to The Entrance (saving me a bus change but taking years off the health of my ears). I managed to not cry for at least half a minute (o.k. maybe it was only quarter of a minute) anyway it was dark on the bus and no-one was paying me any attention and to be truthful it was two or three tears of relief, the scenery on departure was breathtakingly beautiful and I actually surprised myself by feeling a little sad about leaving the place. Mostly though, I will not lie it was with the feeling of a great weight slipping off my shoulders that I felt the distance between me and Gracias, Lempira lengthen.

So I arrived in Copan and then made a dash for the border, entering Guatemala was easy, apparently my passport is legit enough for immigration to not mind all the dodgy goings on that the school lawyers have (we suspect) been involved in for the past 10 months.

I arrived in Antigua as New Zealand tied with Italy in a world cup (soccer) game, apparently this is such a monumental happening that it may yet be declared a public holiday in New Zealand. Antigua is quite lovely, I was a little overwhelmed by the number of tourists, but I love the sushi and bakeries…

Antigua is basically a poor man's Cuzco, it's charming and sweet and FULL of ruined churches, astronomical numbers of ruined churches crumbling back into cobbled streets. My favourite of the old churches is accompanied by several small museums and set rather bizzarely amidst the middle of a rather posh hotel. I struggled to find the entrance (eventually entering via the multilevel car park, I went down into a posh lobby area. Dispite some initial misgivings I knew here I was on the right track as the walls were lined with niches displaying items from the museums which were my ultimate target, so I passed the young men in their penguin suits and the check in desk where the hotel lobby opened into a beautiful inner sanctum, full of gaudy McCaws still in last night party frocks sleeping off their excesses on roosting perches amidst a pretty gardens surrounded by ancient ruins. It is an interesting juxtaposition it appealed to me in it's oddity, The place is well set out, the ruins clearly labeled their are bones, bells, a fascinating candle workshop and precolombian artefacts (what more could a girl want).

There are so many ruins here because of all the nearby volcanoes and tectonic activity which regularly sends pieces of Antigua to it's knees, in fact there was a recent volcanic erruption only a couple of weeks before my arrival, the godesses (or Mother nature) underlining the dangers in case we humans might forget our place in the cosmic food chain. Of course given such provoa\cation I felt compeled to climb a volcano, the one which had in deed just errupted, I found a guide willing to take me and then as we set off one of my party informed me what we were about to do is now illegal, the government having banned climbing because of the five people who died the fortnight previous. Oh great I think, too late now, I also think as we begin our assent gingerly picking our way up onto the crusty blackened old lava flows now rigged with the cold. As we climbed higher, footing became more difficult and walking less gingerly it was hot despite the drizzle, the smoke seeped up around us through small fissures in the black lava, where the smoke was hottest the edges of the lava was grey soot rather than the hard black spiny dragon back ridges we were used to, I could see flashes of orange in parts and new what I was seeing was part of the molten core of our planet (pretty amazing).

The climb got harder and steeper, there was no path we just followed the guide who with goat like agility hopped from crumbling crest of frozen wave to wave. After three quarters of an hour the steam rising up through the crevices in the lava became noticably more and we soon found ourselves walking beside a river of lava we followed it up to a point where it forked and flowed round a corner as the skies darken and the rain settled in we could hear the sizzle of raindrops on molten earth. So we began our descent.

The next day I went to Panajachal on Lago Atitlan, the trip over the mountains was scenic and beautiful, arriving in Panajachal was a surprise, it is a strip of tourist shops, comparable to seeing Koh San rd (Bangkok) for the first time. Brightly coloured cloth everywhere, ladies carrying baskets cushioned on their multicoloured wrapped hair bands, baby's strapped in papooses on their backs, I found myself a quiet guesthouse away from the mad crowd in the old part of the city and went to the river to enjoy the sunset.
The lake here is truly beautiful. In the next few days I took the time to hike to the next little town around the bay, the weather held the whole time I was at the lake, though in the evenings the sky would darken threateningly, full of the promise of rainy season. I spent a day at the market in Solola, up a steep winding road from Panajachal the place was teeming with activity, I sat in the park watching people come and go avoiding the pandomonium in the actual market proper.
On I go, heading to Quetzeltenango or Xela as the locals call it. I arrived, found a hostel and acquainted myself with the centre of town, a grey day, grey buildings and here, at least, the rainy season is in full swing, by 12:30 the rain had settled in, I dug the jumper out of my backpack visited the cathedral and then gave up for the day. The next day opened with leaden skies and stayed that way all day. The morning after was at least light grey skies and no rain, I scurried to the bus station and went to el veijo Palmar, a ghost town destroyed by mud and lava flows from the local volcanos, most famously known for the fact that vigorous volcanic activity had changed the course of the local river which caused a deep ravine to form through the middle of the old church, all traces of the church are now gone but the deep ravine, the river was an absolute raging torrent that I watched pick up a large log and turn it into a lifetime supply of matchsticks in the muddy barrage of water that was hurling itself under the wooden suspension bridge that hung perilously over the roaring brown monster. Apparently you enter this area at your own risk, the abandoned houses all about stand in mute testament to all those who choose to no longer live such hazardous lives. Of course by now it was again persisting down with the rain so I took some quick snaps of the river and beat a hasty retreat to Xela.

The next morning I headed to San Andreas Xecul which is a cute small town where every second house is festooned with great hanks of thread drying in the open air after being dyed, it's imminent future revolving around being woven into some of the striking Guatemalan fabrics which I only wish my backpack was empty enough to allow me to purchase. The whole town is a riot of colour, not least of which is the church, an ochre yellow complete with bizarre gaudy relief sculptures. Inside the church are the usual tortured bewigged statues of Christ, Mary and a roll call of various saints. the dome of the church on the outside has been gaily painted to imitate a hot air balloon rising behind the main vestible helping the crucified Jesus with his ascension.

I returned to Xela as the rain (once again) began it's usual afternoon patter (of little footsteps over rooftops and streets alike). So I headed to the "Museum of Natural History" for my (indoor) afternoon entertainment. The first few rooms were full of old bakerlight phones, telephone switchboards, a genuine computer from 1980!!! an old "Pan Am inflatable life vest a cell phone that looked more modern than mine, (perhaps the curator had left his in there by mistake last time he was dusting). there was a room of musical instruments and documents concerning Guatemala's history. We then went upstairs (to the photography free zone where of course the cool stuff you really want to photograph is), here is all the precolombian (Mayan) artefacts, they have some really well preserved petroglyphs and rock carvings, pottery and statues. There are accompanying pictures and text showing you the Mayan Gods and Goddesses in all their glory, they look, well, terrifying, I totally understand the need to placate these Gods with whichever kind of sacrifice they demand!

This morning I caught the chicken bus again, this time in the drizzle to Chichiestanango, it drizzled all day but the town is really cute, small and cute, after I dropped my bags at the hotel I wandered around the cobblestone streets to see the major two churches, the first one was a sepulcher, a fire burnt on the steps and the inside was full of crucified Christs, Christs in coffins and spare crosses leaning up against the wall (errrrrrm?), the paintings are so blackened by the continuous smoke from a million candles and the almost continual swinging of smoking censors that the bloke out the front does, the smoke shimmers across the altars on the floor. Then there is a dark room, lit only by the candles on more altars which send small fingers of light toward crawling toward another coffin, I could barely make out the christ shape in the coffin, I felt the hairs down the back of my neck start to rise and backed out of the inky room,
the church behind me was still empty but the whole place just felt freaky!

The second church, the main cathedral had a Mayan ceremony taking place (with burning censors and sacrifices on the front steps). The church was well patronised with local Maya carrying out ceremonies on the altars.
These altars are set every few feet all the way up the centre aisle of both churches and are used to burn sacrifices of corn, flowers candles and sugar (the candles they don't bother lighting just throw handfuls of them into the burning fire, the sugar smoulders and melts attracting a million bees, amazing. Apparently one of the most popular ceremonies is performed by young women in the hopes of securing a husband who is good and not a drunkard. I considered having this ceremony performed for the mere cost of 7 dollars (US) and then decided to spend the money on cuba libra's instead!

The next day was market day, I woke up early and climbed the hill past the mask museum to visit the local idol, Pascual Abaj, alone on the top of a hill in a circular altar (surrounded by crosses) it's supposed to have a human face but again the years of soot and rain have mostly washed away the features, interesting nontheless. I wandered the market saw the museum and the next day traveled all day to get to Semuc Champey.

Semuc Champey is beautiful, natural limestone pools set in the middle of a national park, I climbed to the mirador and looked out over the park, I had the place to myself for an hour and a half before half a dozen Guatemalan guys turned up, guides I suspect, nothing disturbs the serenity quite like the sound of a snaggle toothed dude sharpening a massive machete behind ones back. I moved on. The thundering of the waters under the natural limestone bridge was cool, I swam and relaxed all day it was great, I rounded off the evening with a visit to the local bat cave, very cool stalagtites (& mites), if only I hadn't had to swim through freezing water in the cave I would have been much happier, but the clouds of bats exiting the cave as the sunset were well worth the wait.

And so tomorrow, on to Flores, but today I send this!!!