Okay, I don´t remember where I left off, but I think it was a rant about pictures and such. Well, sorry for whining, but it is hard to deal with a computer that isn´t yours, in a language that isn´t yours and for a purpose that doesn´t really come all that naturally.
So I had talked a little about our Spainish language school and how that was. I can´t really explain how awesome it was to live with a family and be immersed in spainish. I have never come this close to even being functional in another language. I have gotten to the point that I can speak to some people about some things without really having to think. In fact I have even noticed that I think differently about some things when I THINK about them in spainish. When I write a tune in Spainish, then I´ll know I´ve made it.
After we made our tearful goodbyes to our family we went by bus to Rio Dulce and got hammered by our first of many succesive three day periods of culture shock. While we had learned alot staying in San Andres, we had gotten used to the people, the dialect of spainish, the small town life and the rhythm of class and study. We had gotten used to not having to pick out a restaurant and being able to rely on a very high quality of food and place to sleep (although, there was that one bastard ass rooster who would crow all night long). In Rio Dulcie we ran right into a three way confluence of vacationing middle class Guatemaltecans (we didn´t know there was such a thing, becuase there wasn´t any in verapaz or peten), vacationing yachties (think slighty more sober parrotheads) and a large, young, animated political gathering for canidate Colum of the UNE party who is on his way to being the next president of Guatemala. He apparently has some crazy ass ideas about socialism not being all bad and corruption being definently all bad; but as we all know political talk (especially my political talk) is cheap.
We liked the area around Rio Dulce alot, it´s basically a huge lake/river/lake/river/hotsprings that flows into the carribean and is surrounded by biosphere reserves and has (supposedly) manatees swimming in it an a castle guarding it from pirates. I was bummed to find no pirates there currently, as it has been a long time since I have had to pull out my ninja skills and beat me some pirate ass. But speaking of skills, with our newly expanded spainish skills we found our way out of the normal backpacker havens and into a hotel close to the castle and filled with the aforementioned vacationing guatemaltecans. It was fun to go and tour the grounds of the castle and be the only whiteys and see what a weekend off was like for the locals. In a perfect example of our perfect spainish skills (actually just mine, I did the talking for this one), we got totally confused about the boat trips going down the river/lakey thingie to the city of Livingston and bought a ticket for a ferry that didn´t leave for four hours. We then sat with our backpacks and watched dozens of happy, spainish speaking people get on boats down the river. Eventually a old gentleman (who seemed to be running the show) took pity on us and put us on a boat that need two last people to complete the normal compliment of ten.
And that´s where Auna´s spainish skills saved the day! It turns out that that day, whatever day that was, was National Teacher Day in Guatemala. Instead of getting spit on, as they would have in the good ole U.S. of A, these fine teachers got to take a day trip to an area they didn´t know to learn more about their country. They thought we (read Auna) spoke Spainish really well and even laughed at one of my quips and I understood their questions AND they understood my answers. My first successful conversation with the some locals that I wasn´t either paying to teach me Spainish, or where the conversations involved something other than prices, schedules or the weather.
The trip down river with them was also really cool we explored another cave, without a guide this time, double bonus scary and got to see some really beautiful scenery. Although what we saw went by REALLY fast beacuse our lanchadore (boat driver guy) was about 12 and understood one simple fact in life: fast is good, faster is better.
When we got to livingston we got hit by another confluence of cultures with the Garifuna (I´ll let ya´ll google that one if you care), and a totally diffent set of languages and lifestyles. I think I´ve covered this in my last blog, but I´m to retarded from heat exahustion right now to figure out how to look at my old post, so sorry. Oh, and while I´m making no sense, a couple shout outs: Matt: I went to the rebel base from star wars, so I´m cooler than you now. Cori: stop making fun of me and tell me how to use this stupid blogger thingie that you made me promise to do. Basil: I have photographic proof that you are faking your life as an american actor/musician and that you are actually running for vice president of Guatemala with the UNE party. Okay back to other stuff.
After Livingston we went on a bit of a Maya trip. We went down to Quirigua, which is an really beautiful and really interesting site. I won´t bore you with the Mayan details but it was a city state that was interelated with Tikal and Copan. Oh yeah, did I say we went to Tikal as a side trip during our time at the spainish school? It was really cool, especially beacuse it´s the original rebel base and all, but man it was like fuckin disneyland with all the stuuuuuupid american teenagers and the carnival like food (crappy) and prices (high). WE much perfered Quirigua because not only did we feel like we undrestood much more about the Mayan structures and (huge, 30 ft. tall) stelae but we didn´t feel like cattle. We had to find our own way there and had to stay in the near by town which until the archelogists came to town (another cool part, they´re still working on the site) was a united fruit town. it´s was nice to be Spainish functional and away from other tourists. A little thought in to the asthetic beauty of a restored site also goes a really long way which is what made Copan kick ass.
We left Quirigua, and by soliciting info from the wife of a Guatemaltecan archeaologist (who spoken in verb tenses I´ve only heard about) we were able to enjoy the beauty of multiple perfectly timed microbus and larger bus trips. It´s amazing the way they´ll take you closer to where you want to be than a greyhound and some taxis, you just have to know what to ask and to stand confidently at the roadside in the middle of nowhere. We crossed the border into Honduras to a small disappointment, Auna was bummed to not see my passport photo get me stopped and searched and I was bummed to find out that the Honduran Migra accept Guatemalan stamps. So no new trophies in the passaporte. Honduras has been very different. But in many ways just as different as each area of Guatemala. Maybe I´ll come up with some comparisons later. It´s too hot to do anything to actually guide this babbling.
We really like Copan as a Mayan site. It was very informative and beautiful. It lacked the wildlife of Tikal but it also lacked the hordes of stupid english speakers. Copan has been very thoughtfully restored and I believe this encourages it´s visitors into a quite sense of awe. Copan Ruinas (the town within walking distance) was really cool. I really liked the cobblestone streets and the mix of colonial spainish architecture and the cosmopolitan nature. Also the food was amazing. That is one thing, the food in honduras has been much better, even the food at the ruins restaurant was good and dirt cheap. Although I do miss the way Guatemaltecans serve you a beer with a pile of lemons and salt. Speaking of beers, after a long day of templing, we went out and partied. It´s hard to explain that touring ruins can be exhausting but Auna spent a day in bed in Livingston from heat stroke, so for those of you about to call me a wuss, well, go a head. We had fun partying but we were rather disgusted at the bar in our hotel when the belgians who owned it turnned out to be fairly intellgent, nice guy sleaze bags with little to no cultural sensitivity. After repeatedly leering at Auna one of them proceeded to tell me how their place was all about backpackers getting to meet the local people. Yeah? Fuckin Idjits. The only locals there were the ones bringing us beers and they weren´t talkitive or even smiling like they had been in the other bars. Further, they played a madonna concert video at mind numbing volume and proceeded to tell me about how her social commentary was brilliant and sublte and some other horsecrap I forgot. As Auna put it later, I may even agree with Madonnas politics but that doesn´t mean her inspid little displays of her political opinions mean anything what-so-ever. Especially not to the Honduran wait staff forced to endure her. And further I was totally embarassed that those fools thought this was cultural confluence. Well it was, but it´s not the kind I´m looking for. Actually Auna put it in much better words while we were debriefing on the bus, you´ll have to ask her if you want to know what I really think about it all. Hah.
Now we´re in La Ceiba on the coast and we´re leaving for Utila island in the morning. This is a shitty, hot, dirty, sleazy, whory (judging from the girl who keeps looking at me from the street) drunk, weird ass town. There´s a really rude, loud texan yelling in spanglish to complete the scene. We won´t miss it here. And we´re heading into tourist central. I think it´s gonna rock and suck at exactly the same time, which should violate the laws of physics and bring about the destruction of the universe which is, of course, my real goal on this trip. I am however looking forward to learning to SCUBA for my birthday and I plan on a least one entire day consisting of a hammock, a bottle of rum and a cigar. Wish me happy birthday in your minds folks, I probably won´t be checking my email via satelite on the islands because I rather spend that money getting drunk. Cheers.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment