中国政府とグーグルが揉めっているせい、中国では本ブログを閲覧できない状況になりましたので、benandkaori.wordpress.comへと移動させていただきます。ご迷惑をおかけしますが、これからもよろしくお願いします。
4.21.2010
Big in China! ブログ移動のお知らせ
中国政府とグーグルが揉めっているせい、中国では本ブログを閲覧できない状況になりましたので、benandkaori.wordpress.comへと移動させていただきます。ご迷惑をおかけしますが、これからもよろしくお願いします。
4.06.2010
Cameras don't swim, even if you demand they do so.
Went swimming with my camera in the beautiful Caribbean off Omoa, Honduras...now I am waiting for a new camera to arrive here to us in Tegucigalpa. Until then...we are alive, just not posting pictures.
3.28.2010
BOATS!! Rio Dulce to Honduras
After a three hour bus ride coming back south from Flores, we caught a boat from just outside the Castillo, which was built, like so many of the castles in Central America, to keep English Pirates from raiding inland stores.
We passed through several small inlets to let people off and on the boat, which is the only line of transportation between the Guatemala and Livingston, even though Livingston is not an island.
Along the way, I picked up a coconut and enjoyed not only the lucious juice, but the delicous and incredibly difficult-to-eat meat. It's quite tender when fresh!
After 2hours in transit, we arrived in Livingston, which is home of the majority of the Garifuna people (called Black Caribbeans by the Spanish). It's a strange little town, struggling with the changes that the tourist trade is bringing to their society. We saw signs deeper in some of the barrios posted by the government encouraging the locals to be "the tourist's friend". This painting I thought was quite interesting, though I'm not sure if it is a comment on the tourist industry.
.........................................................................
The next morning, we rose before everyone to catch this boat to Puerto Barrios, taking us an hour and a half from Honduras.
We got there at 4:45, because we believed it was leaving at 5am, but when we arrived, the crew was still asleep on the boat's benchs. We waited till 6:30. There was a whole mix of people on the boat, most of them taking merchandise to sell in the much larger town across the bay.
Kaori kicked her feet up and fell asleep early into the voyage. Don't believe it's because she was tired from the early departure...she sleeps on anything that moves. ;-)
After arriving in Puerto Barrios, we were soon discovered by a bus looking for people travelling to Honduras. We arrived at the border in an hour, where the copilot took our passports and did the entry paperwork for us in this shack! What service!
In another 30 minutes we were in Honduras! Brrrraaah-haaaa!
We passed through several small inlets to let people off and on the boat, which is the only line of transportation between the Guatemala and Livingston, even though Livingston is not an island.
Along the way, I picked up a coconut and enjoyed not only the lucious juice, but the delicous and incredibly difficult-to-eat meat. It's quite tender when fresh!
After 2hours in transit, we arrived in Livingston, which is home of the majority of the Garifuna people (called Black Caribbeans by the Spanish). It's a strange little town, struggling with the changes that the tourist trade is bringing to their society. We saw signs deeper in some of the barrios posted by the government encouraging the locals to be "the tourist's friend". This painting I thought was quite interesting, though I'm not sure if it is a comment on the tourist industry.
.........................................................................The next morning, we rose before everyone to catch this boat to Puerto Barrios, taking us an hour and a half from Honduras.
We got there at 4:45, because we believed it was leaving at 5am, but when we arrived, the crew was still asleep on the boat's benchs. We waited till 6:30. There was a whole mix of people on the boat, most of them taking merchandise to sell in the much larger town across the bay.
Kaori kicked her feet up and fell asleep early into the voyage. Don't believe it's because she was tired from the early departure...she sleeps on anything that moves. ;-)
After arriving in Puerto Barrios, we were soon discovered by a bus looking for people travelling to Honduras. We arrived at the border in an hour, where the copilot took our passports and did the entry paperwork for us in this shack! What service!
In another 30 minutes we were in Honduras! Brrrraaah-haaaa!
3.25.2010
Tikal!
Kaori and I made our way on a really shady overnight bus from Guatemala City to Santa Elena, where we defied tourist hustlers and got a ticket to Tikal for $3.10 as opposed to $10. We arrived, checked into the campsite and took a nap to catch up on all the sleep we had missed on the bus. Besides, if you enter the park after 3pm, your next day is free!!
We found our way into the park and climbed up what temples we could (Tikal is one of the few major sites that still allows you to do this). The door on Temple V above was about a foot, or so, taller than me, just to give you an idea of proportions.
From Temple IV, we watched the shadow of the tallest temple in the complex stretch across the jungle as the sun set.
The next morning, we woke up at the crack of dawn to the roar of howler monkies. Listen to the sheer volume as I approach one group near some of the ruins. The quiet as soon as they catch sight of me.
The Jaguar Temple above.
The tree below is full of air plants that make it look all fuzy and nice.
We found our way into the park and climbed up what temples we could (Tikal is one of the few major sites that still allows you to do this). The door on Temple V above was about a foot, or so, taller than me, just to give you an idea of proportions.
From Temple IV, we watched the shadow of the tallest temple in the complex stretch across the jungle as the sun set.The next morning, we woke up at the crack of dawn to the roar of howler monkies. Listen to the sheer volume as I approach one group near some of the ruins. The quiet as soon as they catch sight of me.
The Jaguar Temple above.
The tree below is full of air plants that make it look all fuzy and nice.
3.22.2010
Semana Santa in Antigua
When we woke up this morning we headed down to the central park just in time to catch a beauty pagent in process. Feast your eyes on this one guys!! This early 90s Sentra is quite a catch.
Down a few alleys, we found the alfombras, which are pictures made of sawdust, flowers, pine needles, and all manner of fruits. Some locals informed me that these “carpets” are laid to soften the path Christ must walk bearing the cross.
Following the Roman warriors were portraits detailing the last days of Christ.
Following Christ was the mornful virgin Mary.
The procession continued on until 2am...all were tired.
The holy mother finally finds her way back to the church whence she came.
Down a few alleys, we found the alfombras, which are pictures made of sawdust, flowers, pine needles, and all manner of fruits. Some locals informed me that these “carpets” are laid to soften the path Christ must walk bearing the cross.
Early on this last Sunday before Easter, the streets of
Following the Roman warriors were portraits detailing the last days of Christ.
The Christ is carried through the town on a float by more than 100 men at a time, and when negotiating the tight corners of the narrow Antiguan streets the float and its carriers overflow onto the sidewalks. I could literally reach out and touch it.
Following Christ was the mornful virgin Mary.
The procession continued on until 2am...all were tired.
The holy mother finally finds her way back to the church whence she came.
3.20.2010
Jesus Towels and Miraculous Meetings in Santiago Atitlan
Hoping on a boat from Panajachel, Kaori and I went to a nearby town sandwiched between three volcanoes.
We had been told that this town was the least touristed, so that’s where we headed. After pushing our way through the walls of tuk-tuk drivers crying “Maximon!! Maximon!!!”, offering to take us to see the current home housing the local deity, we made our way up to the local market place.
There we miraculously ran into a couple that is traveling Central America by bicycle. We met them in San Cristobal and knew that they were in Guatemala, but what are the odds?! I think that it’s divine power chanelled through the Last Supper towel found in the local market that is due thanks.
3.19.2010
Laguna Chikabal, Chichicastenango
The day before my birthday, after coming back from Chichicastenango, when my body temperature shot up from normal to 40 C in about one hour and the smell of my fountain-like diarrhea filled our hostel, I knew it was time to go to the hospital. SO, now that my intestines have recovered from the rather intense infection that put me in the hospital where Kaori recovered from pneumonia, it´s time to talk about the fabulous two days that helped the bugs in my gut put me in the hospital.
On Saturday, we went to Laguna Chikabal, a lake in a volcanic crater and sacred site for the Mayans at some 3,000 feet about sea level. Bare branches and flowers decorated the lake shore creating little altars.
Mayan families gathered around to fish and enjoy the cool weather in the crater. We enjoyed our lunch here in the shade of the trees.
The wailing of women in a gathering of Apostalic Protestant Mayans on the opposite shore reminded me of a similar gathering Kaori and I had participated in at a local church the night before. I was again at once surprised and perplexed at how mixed the two cultures, the original Mayan and the colonial Christian, had become.
Chichicastenango
The next day, at one of the major tourist spots of Guatemala, Chichicastenango, we saw multitudes of colorful Mayan clothing and a special dance that they perform over the Easter week celebrations depicting a Spanish bullfighter.
From masks of what look like very caniving Spaniards, to the local deity, Maximon (see the post on Zunil), the strange acceptance of the Spanish culture by the locals is if anything perplexing.
On a nearby hill, religious ceremonies performed by the Mayans now revolve around a crucifix, though the content of the ceremony is far from Christian. The crawling on the ground that we saw here was identical to that in the local Catholic Church, a clear indication of the merger of the two cultures.
Mayans also puff on cigars (kids included) as a method of cleansing. During the thrity minutes we were on the hill, this family of three smoked around 10 cigars. Why not just burn some insence?
On Saturday, we went to Laguna Chikabal, a lake in a volcanic crater and sacred site for the Mayans at some 3,000 feet about sea level. Bare branches and flowers decorated the lake shore creating little altars.
Mayan families gathered around to fish and enjoy the cool weather in the crater. We enjoyed our lunch here in the shade of the trees.(The owner of Taka-House, Taka-san. He likes Cheetos.)
The wailing of women in a gathering of Apostalic Protestant Mayans on the opposite shore reminded me of a similar gathering Kaori and I had participated in at a local church the night before. I was again at once surprised and perplexed at how mixed the two cultures, the original Mayan and the colonial Christian, had become.
Chichicastenango
The next day, at one of the major tourist spots of Guatemala, Chichicastenango, we saw multitudes of colorful Mayan clothing and a special dance that they perform over the Easter week celebrations depicting a Spanish bullfighter.
From masks of what look like very caniving Spaniards, to the local deity, Maximon (see the post on Zunil), the strange acceptance of the Spanish culture by the locals is if anything perplexing.
On a nearby hill, religious ceremonies performed by the Mayans now revolve around a crucifix, though the content of the ceremony is far from Christian. The crawling on the ground that we saw here was identical to that in the local Catholic Church, a clear indication of the merger of the two cultures.
Mayans also puff on cigars (kids included) as a method of cleansing. During the thrity minutes we were on the hill, this family of three smoked around 10 cigars. Why not just burn some insence?
3.18.2010
Neumonia...all you have to do is drop the P and you've got what Kaori came down with, only in Spanish
After our wonderful trip to the hot springs in Zunil, Kaori came down with Pneumonia. How in the world? We may never know. But! We now know that pneumonia and diarrhea are the number one killers in Guatemala. Luckily, Kaori managed to wriggle out of their steely grip.
That meant she was able to enjoy her tortillas, beef stew, and sweeeeet tea (we're talkin' have a little tea with your sugar) at nearly 90 degrees!
3.12.2010
Robin-hooded Encapuchados of Guatemala
The first time I saw Encapuchados, or "the hooded" in English, as nearly bumped into them as I rounded a corner in downtown Quetzaltenango, I thought I was about to be robbed. But they walked by, with only their eyes showing through their dark cloaks. I later found out that the Encapuchados are college student vigilantes, Robinhood types, who "collect donations" with big sticks as a threat for non-payment. These donations are collected for poor people who need help, medically, economically, or otherwise, but can't access the help they need. They stop traffic, collecting from buses and cars alike, and even charge local businesses and then give them reciepts that they post in their windows to show they have "paid their dues". McDonalds has never paid the dues, and has accordingly been painted black with motor oil several times. Other establishments have met the same fate...most just pay.
We were intrigued, and when Sindy, the college student who was boarding at my homestay, offered to introduce us to her friend who is a member, we jumped at the chance to learn more.
At the college, there were all maner of "revolutionary" paintings adorning nearly every wall of the University. It reminded me how recently Guatemala had recovered from intercene warfare, and how fresh the ideas are in the mind of the students. Portraits of "El Che", who came to help Guatemala with their revolution, and is universally loved, were on nearly every building. Equally prevalent were painting decrying present government corruption.
When we arrived at the headquarters of one branch of the Encapuchados, we were questioned through a small window in a large metal door. The interogator then closed the window to recieve permission for entry, and a few moments later the door opened and we were led to a small room where we were told to sit and wait. Pictures of "martyrs" and various political propoganda lined the walls.
Our hosts, who remained cloaked for the duration of our meeting, were very friendly and explained that Encapuchados exist to defend those who have no defense. Poor people with grievances, cannot approach the police for fear of repurcussions. Although medical care is free to all, including foreigners, in Guatemala, often procedures are not covered. Encapuchados, they explained, put their saftey on the line in collecting money--one of our hosts had had a gun stuck to his head more than once by a disgruntled citizen--and in confronting the local police as the voice of the voiceless. They often have parties where they charge and entrance fee and require canned foods and/or dry rice and beans, which will be delivered to the hungry.
(The pink color is for a female group, though females in other groups are not distinguished by color.)
Certainly, not all citizens are pleased with the Encapuchados. Some claim that the money they collect is only used to fund their drinking. However, when they oiled the delinquent McDonalds, Sindy told me that they were surrounded by locals who believed in their cause, cheering them on. The hosts' parents both were aware of and supported their son/daughter's participation.
We bought two T-shirts, thanked our hosts and were on our way.
Muchas Gracias, Sindy!
We were intrigued, and when Sindy, the college student who was boarding at my homestay, offered to introduce us to her friend who is a member, we jumped at the chance to learn more.
At the college, there were all maner of "revolutionary" paintings adorning nearly every wall of the University. It reminded me how recently Guatemala had recovered from intercene warfare, and how fresh the ideas are in the mind of the students. Portraits of "El Che", who came to help Guatemala with their revolution, and is universally loved, were on nearly every building. Equally prevalent were painting decrying present government corruption.
When we arrived at the headquarters of one branch of the Encapuchados, we were questioned through a small window in a large metal door. The interogator then closed the window to recieve permission for entry, and a few moments later the door opened and we were led to a small room where we were told to sit and wait. Pictures of "martyrs" and various political propoganda lined the walls.
Our hosts, who remained cloaked for the duration of our meeting, were very friendly and explained that Encapuchados exist to defend those who have no defense. Poor people with grievances, cannot approach the police for fear of repurcussions. Although medical care is free to all, including foreigners, in Guatemala, often procedures are not covered. Encapuchados, they explained, put their saftey on the line in collecting money--one of our hosts had had a gun stuck to his head more than once by a disgruntled citizen--and in confronting the local police as the voice of the voiceless. They often have parties where they charge and entrance fee and require canned foods and/or dry rice and beans, which will be delivered to the hungry.
(The pink color is for a female group, though females in other groups are not distinguished by color.)
Certainly, not all citizens are pleased with the Encapuchados. Some claim that the money they collect is only used to fund their drinking. However, when they oiled the delinquent McDonalds, Sindy told me that they were surrounded by locals who believed in their cause, cheering them on. The hosts' parents both were aware of and supported their son/daughter's participation.
We bought two T-shirts, thanked our hosts and were on our way.Muchas Gracias, Sindy!
3.04.2010
Zunil (pssst...it's pronounced Soon-eelh)
Only two days after our first hot-spring action since Japan, we were ready for more. Figured we aught to soak it up while we can. We had decided to head to the more touristy of the many options, because of what promised to be a breathtaking location up high in the mountains and right smack in the middle of nature. What we did to make ourselves feel better was to take a walk through the town at the base of the mountain, when most people get a ride in a pick-up right at the bus stop. We ARE better than you tourists HAHAHA.
Anyways, the story begins on one of these...
which drops us off at a small town surrounded by these...
we follow a road up to the top of the town, which is filled with women dressed like these...
only to stumble upon the most beautiful one of THESE I have ever seen...
The ladies who we followed most of the way up the hill asked me out of the blue if I was going to the cemetery. Then I knew where we were going. Absolutely breathtaking. Colorful graves draping the top of the hill, with mist-draped mountains towering in the distance. I remembered my time in Korea, when in the best places with the best sunshiny there was always a grave around. Fengshui in Korea creates a practice that seems to be echoed here in this primarily K'iche' Mayan town.
The graves here were different than those I had seen in Merida. They were lower to the ground, and fewer had house-like structures on top. There was a distinctly new kind of grave that was made of roofing tiles painted solid white, with the remains placed inside a cylinder constructed and covered with same tiles. Like Merida, crucifixes dominated the highest places on most graves, but the flower wreathes that adorned many of the graves were something of both beauty and interest.
Zunil is also home to rather unique in that they worship a deity called San Simon, who is a cowboy hat wearin', booze drinking, cigar smoking, and yes, wish grantin' sun of a gun. Some say that he is a Mayan deity represented as a Spanish missionary. Statues will often have a hole that allows the statue to actually "drink" booze.
Once we made our way through most of the town, we headed up to the highway to catch a pick-up to the hot spring. Breathtaking views, refreshing wind as we rode through mountain top fields holding onto the sides of the truck bed.
The people in the field whistled much like as we drove by. The kind of whistle that, in the States, you would expect to hear from a drunk man trying to get the attention of an unwitting girl. Here, it seems, that's just how you get someones attention. Except for one Mayan minority that when they want your attention, it sounds like they're telling you to be quiet, "Shhhhhhh!!!"
There was one catch. The entrance fee had been doubled in the last few days... Of course, I didn't believe the guys telling me this when I got there. That is, until he showed me the pistol strapped to their waist when I tried to push by them. I paid the new fare...
...and we soaked in some GREAT natural spring water to the sounds of live mariachi music. Even managed to hitch a ride back with the CEO of a construction company in Quetzaltenango.
Anyways, the story begins on one of these...
which drops us off at a small town surrounded by these...
we follow a road up to the top of the town, which is filled with women dressed like these...
only to stumble upon the most beautiful one of THESE I have ever seen...
The ladies who we followed most of the way up the hill asked me out of the blue if I was going to the cemetery. Then I knew where we were going. Absolutely breathtaking. Colorful graves draping the top of the hill, with mist-draped mountains towering in the distance. I remembered my time in Korea, when in the best places with the best sunshiny there was always a grave around. Fengshui in Korea creates a practice that seems to be echoed here in this primarily K'iche' Mayan town.The graves here were different than those I had seen in Merida. They were lower to the ground, and fewer had house-like structures on top. There was a distinctly new kind of grave that was made of roofing tiles painted solid white, with the remains placed inside a cylinder constructed and covered with same tiles. Like Merida, crucifixes dominated the highest places on most graves, but the flower wreathes that adorned many of the graves were something of both beauty and interest.
Zunil is also home to rather unique in that they worship a deity called San Simon, who is a cowboy hat wearin', booze drinking, cigar smoking, and yes, wish grantin' sun of a gun. Some say that he is a Mayan deity represented as a Spanish missionary. Statues will often have a hole that allows the statue to actually "drink" booze.
Once we made our way through most of the town, we headed up to the highway to catch a pick-up to the hot spring. Breathtaking views, refreshing wind as we rode through mountain top fields holding onto the sides of the truck bed.
The people in the field whistled much like as we drove by. The kind of whistle that, in the States, you would expect to hear from a drunk man trying to get the attention of an unwitting girl. Here, it seems, that's just how you get someones attention. Except for one Mayan minority that when they want your attention, it sounds like they're telling you to be quiet, "Shhhhhhh!!!"
There was one catch. The entrance fee had been doubled in the last few days... Of course, I didn't believe the guys telling me this when I got there. That is, until he showed me the pistol strapped to their waist when I tried to push by them. I paid the new fare...
...and we soaked in some GREAT natural spring water to the sounds of live mariachi music. Even managed to hitch a ride back with the CEO of a construction company in Quetzaltenango.
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