© mricha15 - Xela’s Central Park

Quetzaltenango (more familiarly dubbed ‘Xela’) is probably the place to volunteer in Guatemala. It’s the country’s second city after Guatemala City, but smaller, somewhat safer (with exceptions: two of my friends were robbed at gunpoint, so you still have to be careful when it’s dark out), and with just the right balance of foreigners and locals to offer a sufficiently authentic local experience. Whatever you get in Antigua in terms of Spanish schools and bars and cafes to make your comfort zone, you’ll also get in Xela, but the latter is nothing like the seemingly self-absorbed bubble that is Antigua.

© Emily Ding - The famous arch in Antigua

But of course, as with everything, you have to give and take. And Antigua, being an old Spanish colonial town is, hands down, a lot prettier than Xela is. For the passing tourist who can only afford a few days, Xela might only stay in their minds as ugly and nondescript, kind of like Guatemala City. But for the dedicated volunteer or long-term traveller looking to stay in one place and live some semblance of a life, Xela is a good choice. From the people I’ve heard who have lived there, they’ve loved it.

The only reason I’m not in Xela, despite the fact that there is so much more there with which to keep myself occupied… is this nagging question I ask myself: “Why would I come to a country like Guatemala and live in a city?” I’m going back to London town in exactly three months, and I’ve lived all my life in Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia also home to the world-renowned Petronas twin towers. Why then would I choose to live in the city here in this still-developing country? Better to live a small-town existence on the tranquil shores of Lake Atitlán which, have I mentioned, is the most beautiful lake in the world. At least, until I see something else to rival it.

So. I’ve decided… this blog is only going to be about Guatemala and Nicaragua. What a surprise, eh? I mean, considering that’s what it’s been about the whole time. Ha. But I guess I’ve decided I’m not going to provide any information here on this blog that I can’t sort of verify myself, meaning I won’t (most of the time) provide any information on this blog of lands my unwashed walking boots haven’t grazed. So. Sorry to disappoint you ladies and gents who don’t have the luxury of time and are speeding your way down south or up north… this blog won’t be able to help you with Mexico or Honduras or Salvador or Panama or Peru or Argentina. For the sake of coherence and any kind of meaningful communication, I’m keeping the locus of this blog small: Guatemala and Nicaragua and nothing more. For now anyway, though Cuba might hop onto the bandwagon at some point in July.

So I guess actually not much has really changed. This blog was about travelling in Guatemala and Nicaragua and now it’s still going to be. But the difference is that I promise things are going to start getting busier around here after the 22nd of May.

© Emily Ding - Lake Atitlán, Panajachel

Right now I’m still stuck in my little corner in Guatemala, in a little village called Panajachel nestled by the Lake Atitlán, the most beautiful lake in the world and one which, I assure you, never looks the same way twice. Guidebooks and the cynical call Pana ‘gringotenango’ (gringoland, i.e. full of foreigners), but in fact, I’ve never hung out very much with visitors coming and going in this place. My experience here has been very much shaped by its locals, and it’s because of them that I’ve stayed this long. Falling in love with a place and it’s people does that to you, makes you stay for the kinds of possibilities you think it might offer. Because truth is, and do allow me a little space to philosophize, no matter how free and unattached you always think you are when you begin to travel, the heart betrays, every time, and looks for something to latch onto. And mine did, held out for something which, in the end, wasn’t worth it. And now it’s clearly time to go cold turkey.

So, in a nutshell: Having returned to Guatemala for the second time at the end of March and having stayed in my own rented space for six weeks splashing egg yolks and beans all over my own kitchen, getting to know again the people I knew before when I first arrived last October, cementing friendships, learning Spanish, teaching English to kids and young people I’ve grown to know well who can’t afford it, learning (finally) how to love – actually love – eating tortillas (black, white or yellow)… I’m ready to get on the road again, to explore other places of Guatemala I haven’t been to (and there are a lot of them). And this time, my experience won’t be shaped by a certain somebody, the way it has been for most of my time in this land of eternal spring.

But before my intrepid, and epic (let’s hope), Guatemalan journey, I’m off to New York and Connecticut (both for the first time) in three days, just for a week, to see two girlfriends in their final week of school (for the rest of their lives), after which I will return to the still incompletely renovated La Aurora international airport of Guatemala.

And when I arrive on May 21 onto Guatemalan soil, I plan first to head back to Panajachel (where I’ll be paying rent till the end of June because some friends and family are coming to visit then) to exchange the first world attire I’m planning to bring to the United States with clothes and footwear more appropriate for roughing it out on dirt roads and rainforests and jungles. Then I’m planning to head up north to Chichicastenango, then onward to the Chuchumatanes mountain range, to Huehuetenango, to Nebaj, to Cobán, then to the limestone crags at Lanquin and the waterfalls at Semuc Champey, then further eastwards to the Lake Izabal and a boat ride down Rio Dulce (Sweet River) to the Caribbean town of Livingston, then south-westwards to Quirigúa, then to the border down of El Florido, from which I will cross over to Honduras to see the Mayan ruins of Copán. Then it’s back across the border to Esquipulas and to the Pacific Coast starting at Monterrico, then Sipacate, then home sweet home to Panajachel to await the arrival of the first of my visitors on June 18. The last of them will leave late June or early July, at which point I will start my solo travels again, this time in northern Guatemala, where most of the remnants of Mayan civilization are found.

And it is that part of Guatemala that promises to be the most epic and off the beaten track, and I will explore that part of the country en route to Cancun (Mexico), from which I will then take a plane to Havana (Cuba) in July and spend the whole month there trying to learn Spanish all over again before catching my plane home to Malaysia via Los Angeles. And then it’s goodbye to Latin America for a while until my next holiday (God knows when that will be), because I’m going back to law school in London for a year, after which I will probably enter the elite (hopefully) workforce and make enough money to travel again.

So. The rest of Guatemala, then Cuba. At least, that’s the tentative plan. We all know how these things change on the road. But it’s to give you an idea of what’s coming up on this blog, and the new inspiration I’ve had to travel again, the way I did in Nicaragua last November. From place to place, bus by bus, step by step… with little surprises along the way.

And since it’s just me now (well, I guess it always has been but any kind of contribution from you, dear fellow traveler, is welcome), perhaps it’s time this blog got a little more personal.

Photos © Emily Ding

I guess this place attracts hippies as much as San Pedro does, but of the more health-conscious variety. No marijuana or cocaine here, it’s all about your spiritual well-being.

San Marcos is one of the many villages surrounding Lake Atitlán. It’s very beautiful, and much quieter than its counterparts. However, if you’re not into meditation or yoga or massages or emotional therapy or vegetarian food, one day spent here will probably be enough. However, I’m speaking from the viewpoint of a lone traveler; I’m sure if you have company, time will pass a lot faster here.

There are a whole cluster of signs to various hostels and restaurants near the dock where you disembark, but as they all seemingly point in the same direction they are unhelpful. But don’t worry, you don’t need a guidebook. Just be prepared to take a stroll and see things and you will find everything. From the dock, take a left, and follow the first fork up, or the second fork, or the third. Work your way around and you’ll find where everything is.

And if you want to get yourself into hippie pants and wander around barefoot, you wouldn’t look out of place either.

Santiago Atitlán is one of the many villages surrounding Lake Atitlán in Guatemala. Upon arriving on Santiago’s shores, you will be greeted by tuk-tuk (or rather ‘moto taxi’) drivers eager to bring you on a tour of Santiago for a fee. I’ve been inundated with offers as low as 50 Quetzales, and offers as high as 100 Q. Always negotiate.

If my tuk-tuk guide is anything of a standard comparison, you will first be brought to the Mirador, from which you will get a view of the lake and Santiago, and also a distant glimpse of the Lavandería Maya, where Mayan women wash clothes on the shores between 8 - 10 a.m. and in the evening between 3 - 5 p.m., so I was told. The Mayan women can wash their clothes in their own homes, but it’s long since been something of a custom to congregate by the lake to do their laundry. If you want to get up close and personal with the Tzutujil Mayan women, walk down a little dirt slope to the lakeshore from the Mirador. My guide was Tzutujil (chances are it’ll be easy to find one) so he could converse with the people I met in Santiago and act as a translator for me, in Spanish. If you don’t speak even a little bit of Spanish it will probably be difficult. I say get right down to where the laundry-washing is going on, because the view is incredible. The Mirador view is a tad bit impersonal.

The 3rd destination is the Peace Park (El Parque de la Paz), the site to commemorate the victims of a massacre, including children. I wish I could tell you more about the history of this incident, but the fact is I’ve forgotten the exact details. So you’ll have to do a little bit of research on your own.

Then you’ll be brought to the house of Maksimon, a god of the Mayans who actually smokes and drinks. There is a special committee designated to guard Maksimon, who entrusts him to a different house every year, and people are welcome to pay their respects to him for a small fee. It costs Q2 to enter, and Q10 to take a photo. It might be a bit bizarre for some of us to see a paper doll being fed cigarettes and cigars while someone leads a prayer to him, but those who believe in him take him seriously, so show some respect when you’re in his presence.

Your last destination will be the Catholic church, which is currently undergoing some cosmetic construction.

Aside from these places though, you can negotiate with your guide to take you somewhere else you’re interested in for an extra fee. I was interested in the small village of Panabaj, which was destroyed by Hurricane Stan in 2005. You will see the hollow remains of the Hospitalito, which is currently being rebuilt in a safer, more secure location, and which still needs donations. I also went to take a look at the temporary housing of the victims of Hurricane Stan. Three years on and they were still living in shacks in adirt field. It’s very much worth a visit.

As far as impressions go, Santiago is very much a workaday village, and much bigger than either Panajachel, San Pedro or San Marcos, which are more popular haunts of tourists and hippies. Santiago lacks the kinds of bars or restaurants we’re used to, and is probably not much fun if you’re traveling alone. In Panajachel or San Pedrogas (so nicknamed for its abundance of marijuana and cocaine activities, drogas meaning drugs) or San Marcos, if you’re eating on your own in a restaurant, chances are you will find company as you are shuffling burritos into your mouth, one way or other. But in Santiago, that will probably be more difficult. However, it probably offers a more accurate picture of what life in a Guatemalan pueblo really is like.

Where to stay in Santiago:

I stayed in Hotel Chinimya, which is a short walk away from the dock (’embarcadero‘) and its abundance of restaurants. Rooms are basic are perhaps a little cramped but comfortable nonetheless, with hot water and an attached licuado stand, useful if you need your fix of fruit shake every morning. It is also right next to an internet cafe, so that’s convenient. It’s one of the cheaper options, about Q70 for a private room with shared bathroom. It’s expensive compared to accommodation rates in Panajachel or San Pedro but considered cheap in Santiago.

For more luxurious - and accordingly, more expensive - options, try Hotel Bambu (which is rather far from the centre of Santiago, but I guess isolation is the point) or Posada de Santiago, which costs on average about $USD 50 per night for a private single room.

ALL PHOTOS © EMILY DING

If you’re flying into Guatemala City, upon arrival at the airport there are shuttles (usually upon prior reservation) to Antigua, from where you can then further your journey to other parts of the country. And there are always taxis, if you’re feeling particularly rich. Otherwise, take a taxi to a bus terminal to catch a chicken bus to your destination.

Truth is, shuttles and chicken buses do not differ very much aside from the comfort aspect. Taking a chicken bus from Guatemala City, which is the starting point for most buses, you’ll be guaranteed a seat so you won’t have to be swaying interminably in the center aisle. What’s more, in terms of time saved, I’ve found that the chicken bus actually does it better (or there’s no significant difference) since the drivers drive like hell’s on fire anyway, and it’s cheaper, and it promises much more of a local experience.

Well, what about in terms of safety, you ask? Heck, I think you’re better off in a chicken bus. The shuttles I’ve taken were painted with ‘TOURIST’ signs in big block letters, proclaiming to all the world that you’re a foreigner with some bucks to spend (more than the average Guatemalan anyway), which seems to me to be inviting trouble rather than averting it, by which I mean road bandits who hijack your vehicle at gunpoint and strip all your valuables off you. So, if you’re still hesitating about taking a chicken bus, don’t… unless: (1) you have a lot of luggage, then you might want to consider a shuttle, or (2) if you don’t want to take the minor chance of being robbed while you’re asleep or unaware. But the better reason to opt for a shuttle over a chicken bus is (3) not having to make multiple connections. A shuttle brings you from A to B in one vehicle, sometimes even door to door.

But for every first-timer in Central America, the chicken bus is an experience not to be forgone. So here I’ve listed a few places in the country you might want to make your way to from la capital, with the bus terminal addresses provided in Spanish.

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HyevO7EW6F8

This was played every six hours on Guatemalan TV in September 2007 to commemorate the month of the country’s independence. Guatemala became independent from Spain on September 15, 1821. This video will also show you the amazing greenery of the country, its landscapes, its people… all the nice things about Guatemala. The more unpleasant ones… well, you won’t find it here.

¡Guatemala feliz! que tus aras
No profane jamás el verdugo;
Ni haya esclavos que laman el yugo
Ni tiranos que escupan tu faz.

Si mañana tu suelo sagrado
Lo amenaza invasión extranjera,
Libre al viento tu hermosa bandera
A vencer o a morir llamará.

CHORUS:
Libre al viento tu hermosa bandera
A vencer o a morir llamará.
Que tu pueblo con ánima fiera
Antes muerto que esclavo será.

Fortunate Guatemala! May your altars
Never be profaned by cruel men.
May there never be slaves who submit to their yoke,
Or tyrants who deride you.

If tomorrow your sacred soil
Should be threatened by foreign invasion,
Your fair flag, flying freely in the wind,
Will call to you: Conquer or die.

CHORUS:
Your fair flag, flying freely in the wind,
Will call to you: Conquer or die;
For your people, with heart and soul,
Would prefer death to slavery.

It’s on the same street as Hostal San Angel, which is listed in most guidebooks, and which is also slightly more expensive than Hostal Nicarao, though still cheap, all things considered. In all honesty, I probably would have checked into San Angel if I’d found it first, but Nicarao was a cheap and cheerful alternative nonetheless. There is a bigcourtyard right smack in the middle which keeps the place mostly bright and sunny, something which is a consideration for me since in a bid to save electricity, most places in Nicaragua don’t turn on the light in the day. So if there’s no natural light coming through it can be very dim. In fact, most restaurants and businesses often look like they are closed in the day, because it’s so dark you can’t see the inside from the sidewalks.

It’s easy to get to Hostal Nicarao. From the southeast corner of the Parque Central, walk south to the end of the first block. On the way you’ll see San Angel, and then a few doors down, Nicarao, which sits on the corner. It’s got a very colourful wall to advertise its presence. You can’t possibly miss it. And you can probably walk right in and find a bed to settle in for a few nights. There’s no website or online booking system for the hostal, and anyway if it’s full there are an abundance of other options.

It’s manned by some local guys who I suspect have a penchant for porn (but what guy doesn’t, I suppose). They close the doors after 1 a.m. but that doesn’t mean there’s a curfew. All you have to do is knock and they’llit for you. Knock loudly though, and be patient and wait a little bit. They have to switch the channel to football before greeting you, you see. It’s only appropriate

There are dorms and private rooms, beds are clean and bug-free, fans to save you from the heat, a communal kitchen, and I think, laundry services. They also have a resident computer, but they charge you for using the internet. I don’t remember them having hot showers, however, so if that’s a problem for you, I guess you’ll have to go somewhere else. But the weather in Nicaragua, especially in Granada, is sweltering. I had no need or desire for hot showers except when I was in the highlands like Estelí or Jinotega. You’ll probably love cold showers in Granada. Taking one in the middle of the afternoon is absolute bliss!

However, history has clearly proven that revolutions tend to go wrong along the way, and the Nicaraguan revolution was hardly an exception, as was Cuba’s, no matter how many people go touting Che Guevara with his beret on their chests. As a reminder, I’ve got a t-shirt of the Che wearing Bart Simpson on his chest, a cartoon strip by Matthew Diffee for The New Yorker (you can buy your own here). I don’t have to tell you, I love the irony.

When all is said and done, there is a certain dangerous romance in the idea of revolution, the possibilities of change it induces you to want to believe in, which is obviously why so many people sign up to it in the first place. And well, I guess that’s what these following photos illustrate: the romance, the idealism and the camaraderie… but also the more inhumane parts of it, like putting rifles into the hands of children.

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Revolution and romance have always been inextricably linked, and there is no better example of this than Nicaragua, the underpopulated isthmus (“it was the emptiest of the countries of Central America”, and still is) that forms part of the slender waist of America. The mere whispers of its syllables is poetry, and despite — or because of — its poverty one needs only to delve into its recent history to find romance and ideals and hope, which luckily, isn’t very difficult. Her history echoes at you wherever within her borders you travel: through the bullet-holed walls of the fading buildings, the colourful revolutionary murals, the young men you meet who were even younger when they fought in the revolution… As the Indian-British author Salman Rushdie (The Satanic Versus, Midnight’s Children) wrote in The Jaguar Smile, a firsthand account of his three-week visit to Nicaragua in the July of 1986 for the seventh anniversary of the triumph of the Frente Sandinista de Liberación Nacional (FSLN):

In Nicaragua ‘at seven years’ the walls still spoke to the dead: Carlos¹, we’re getting there, the graffiti said; or, Julio², we have not forgotten.

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1. Carlos Fonseca was the founder of the FSLN in 1956, and who died in November 1976, two and a half years before the Sandinista victory.
2. In his memoir, Salman Rushdie also relates the story of Julio Buitrago, who had been surrounded in a ’safe house’ in Managua along with some others. “Finally he was he only one left alive, resisting the might of Somoza’s tanks and heavy artillery hour after hour, while the whole country watched him on live television, because Somoza thought he’d captured a whole FSLN cell and wanted their destruction to be a lesson to the people: a terrible miscalculation, because when the people saw Buitrago come out shooting and die at last, when they saw that just one man had held off a tyrant for so long, they learned the wrong lessons: that resistance was possible.”

John Mayer - Wheel

An excerpt from Starting Points and Destinations, an honours research paper by Marlaina Read:

The airport is a place where journeys begin and end. These are the places that I start feeling like a traveller. In the airport I feel a sense of dislocation, it comes, I think, from knowing that there are hundreds of airports just like this one all around the world. I cannot be intimate with a location that is constantly repeated because it does not exist as an individual place. The structure of the airport does not require individuality in order to function. Its production of repetition and homogeneity is the basis for its efficiency worldwide because it creates an order through which people’s movements can be controlled smoothly. Any intimacy I could want to feel in this space would, therefore, be swallowed in the airport’s overwhelming sameness. This is a space that serves to move people on their way, it does not exist of and for itself, but instead only as a means of delivering people to their destination. The airport is a place of transition; it does not need to describe history or culture because no one is coming to the airport to be at the airport. They come to the airport in order to leave. The airport is what Marc Auge calls a non-place.

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