The Ruins (Alan)

The Copan ruins are located in Honduras, and so we had to get temporary visas to pass through the border. We stayed a night in the town of Copan Ruinas which is one kilometer away from the archaeological site. That proved to be a very lovely walk with some interesting statues recovered from the site mounted along the way.

The ruins are in a beautiful forested setting. There’s a long walk to reach the entry from the ticket office at the road, and it’s a peaceful walk with a few tables set out for picnics. Once inside the complex, we were greeted by several macaws [H: looked like parrots to us] and other wildlife before entering the ruins themselves. Really peaceful and beautiful.

The Mayans were master stone carvers, and the stelae and alters are intricately carved with images of royalty, gods, plants, animals, and mythical creatures. Most of the ruins date from the 7th and 8th century A.D. and are remarkably well preserved. You walk among (and in some cases on) the structures and get very close to the carved images. Only some thin wire actually keeps tourists off of the statues. We spent a couple of hours walking through the complex, admiring the work and the beautiful views.

It’s definitely better to view the images of the site than rely on my ability to describe them.

The next day, before our bus adventures, we had the chance to visit the Enchanted Wings Butterfly House where between 30 and 35 species of butterfly are being raised. It was a large property under netting that contained a protected ecosystem for the butterflies. We spent a good hour there, stalking the butterflies for video and pictures.

Link To Album

The Road (Harriet)

Crossing the border into Honduras was relatively straight-forward. In the middle of the mountains, at some rickety three-structure setting, 12 of us crawled out of the mini-van, like a bunch of circus clowns emerging from a miniature car, and were immediately surrounded by money-changers — Hoss Cartwright-sized guys in cowboy hats, fanning thick bricks of currency. The only (North) Americans in the group, we were whisked through the immigration process before everyone else. Don’t ask why.

Eventually we pulled into town, directly in front of our hotel, the one that got top billing in the guidebooks for its helpful staff, good restaurant and travel services. Later, after our fabulous tour of the ruins and peaceful stroll through the grounds, we returned to what we soon realized could be the loudest night club in Central America and the only deafening joint in Copan Ruinas to keep cranking the bad music past midnight. It was as if we had booked a room in the lawn section of the SB County Bowl.

The bus that was to pick us up the next day was delayed because a major rock slide had closed the highway. While it was sheer hell for the people stuck on that mini-van (for an extra 3 hours), we least we waited in a shady cafe, sipping cool drinks with interesting company.

Several hours later, after a another border crossing with the Mafia cowboy bankers, some problem the driver had with customs over a few “extra” boxes, and winding around the rockslide that had not been completely cleared, we found ourselves smelling burning brakes. The driver had run out of gas, there was trouble with the hydraulic system and the brakes were going. We pulled over (think San Marcos Pass) and all of the passengers began that instant bonding process that happens when one suspects one might be sleeping with heretofore strangers on the side of the road or find oneself in some bad “Lost” spinoff or “Survivor” episode. We chose the team with the two very funny Swedish brothers, one of whom was fluent in Spanish and had packed some extra snacks.

At some point, the equivalent of the CHP showed up, got us enough gas to get us to a filling station, and gave us a personal escort into Rio Hondo, the town where Alan and I were to leave our new teammates and transfer to another bus. We thought it best not be be on a dark bus on a dark road and decided to spend the night in Rio Hondo — touted as a lovely weekend getaway for Guatemalans who want to cool off in the water parks. That would have been fine, except that we were nowhere near the water parks. We were, however, smack dab in the middle of a huge truck stop. So we spent the night in a concrete cinder block room with 24-wheelers whizzing by or, worse, idling outside our door. It was slightly quieter than our room the previous night.

We were awakened the next morning by a rooster that was — honest to god — roosting on the tree branch 8 inches from our window. Best of all, his time clock was set somewhere over the mid-Atlantic so our personal poultry alarm began around 3 a.m. The good news was, this enabled us to get up and moving in time to catch the early bus to Rio Dulce. The tickets were cheap; the former New Jersey public bus had good brakes; and the on-board entertainment was free. For the first 45 minutes of our 4-hour ride, we listened (or tried not to listen) to a young woman standing in the aisle, preaching the gospel at the top of her holy lungs.

I had plenty of space but Alan was hemmed in by a woman and her mother, two young kids, one toddler and a baby.That mom had likely gotten less sleep than Alan and me combined. And as we wound our way along the mountain highway, we passed similar families, on foot, carrying baskets on their heads and babies on their backs, and we were reminded of how very easy our roads have been.

Link to Album

Lake Attitlan is located at the base of 3 volcanos which (geologically and aesthetically) define the valley. There is a series of villages that surrounds the lake, and the biggest of these, Panajachel (known as Pana), has become a vacation spot for Guatemalans as well as the foreign tourists. We spent a couple of days in this sweet little town, which has the feel of many California beachside towns.

We had a very nice hotel room with a view of the lake, and discovered some foods and treats that are easing our disappointment with the cuisine. For instance, in Pana we discovered an Italian chocolatier who makes some truly wonderful chocolate bars and snacks (dark chocolate and cinnamon, dark chocolate and cardamom, and my favorite milk-chocolate and peanut butter).

We took the traditional boat tour of a few villages, and much to our surprise, Harriet never got sea sick. The villages were an interesting mix of indigenousness people and counter culture Westerners. Officially, their names were San Pedro, Santiago Attitlan, and San Antonio Palopo, but I referred to them as Hippieville, Weird-Church Place, and Weaverville respectively (which is a particularly odd term in this context).

In Hippivelle (San Pedro) we had a pleasant walk around the island, including talking to a young woman from Texas who runs a local bookstore and yoga studio. Later, we walk through ZooLa, a little restaurant where you eat at low tables while laying on pillows, and instructions over the door recommend that you sit and really think about what you want to eat before deciding what to order. You get the idea.

In Santiago Atitlan (Weird-Church Place), there was an intersting church with a lot of carved figures and scenes in relief. Harriet wanted to describe a few things we saw here.

Vatican’s Next Top Model

[Harriet: As the fashionista in this couple, I took careful note of the snappy attire donned by the carved saints that lined the walls of the big church. Evidently, these guys get a set of fresh threads every year, courtesy of fashion-forward local women.

Group numero uno was wearing what I would describe as dental hygenists' cotton candy pink smocks. (Swish and pray.) Groupo dos was wearing auto mechanics' over-sized blue workshirts sans embroidered name patch. Groupo tres was a definite standout with their 1950s picnic tablecloths in cheery turquoise with borders of enormous pink roses. And everyone, blue collar to blue tablecloth, had a little extra fashion accessory to complete their outfit -- Versace(-like) silk scarves tied nattily about their necks and sometimes, wrists. Who would have thought we'd find such bold fashion statements in such a sleepy little town? - H]

Finally, San Antonio Palopo (Weaverville) had several weaving shops lining the road up to the church on a hill. You can watch them weave or embroider fabric, and (of course) buy some items.

Zip It, Zip It Good

The other notable activity for us in Pana was a visit to the local Nature Preserve. We had a lovely walk along the nature trail, visited the Butterfly Preserve, and saw some monkeys as well as the native Caoti (sort of a racoon thing).

But the real adventure was the Zip Line Tour. Both Harriet and Alan (the fellow afraid of heights) took a series of 8 zip lines down the mountain, suspended over the jungle canopy. My elder niece, Amanda, is some sort of rock, mountain, and tree climbing stud who last year was building zip line courses in Costa Rica. So with that inspiration in mind, I tried not to think about the fact that I was just stepping out over a 200 ft (or whatever) drop onto pointy tree death or worse, embarrassment. And you know, we had a great time. By the second line, I remembered to actually look around and appreciate the amazing view. I won’t say it ever got easier stepping off into nothingness, but I found that the rest of the experience made up for that. Quite the rush.

Our last activities in Pana involved shopping. The prices (and bargaining) were even better than Chichi, so Harriet now has a scarf which she hasn’t removed for 4 days. [Note from Harriet: Those scarved saints have inspired me. What can I say? - H]

Next Up: The Road to Ruins

Link to Pana Album

In the Highland region of Guatemala, Chichicastenango is a village of 49,000 people at an elevation of 6000 feet … oh wait … this would be excessive engineerese. Okay, try again …

We went to Chichi (as Chichicastenango is refered to by the locals) to see the big market. On Thursdays and Sundays, this small town hosts a gigantic, regional market where vendors from all over the area come to sell their wares. Unfortunately, a lot of the vendors sell souvenirs nowadays, the same items you see all through Guatemala. The prices are pretty good, and there is a lot of bargaining involved which are the ingredients to make Harriet a happy traveler.

We arrived on Saturday for the Sunday market.We had an inexpensive room which was HUGE, and in a lovely setting. It came with a fireplace, and on the second night we had a huge fire (it gets cold in the highlands). And, our first meal in town was one of the best we’ve had in Guatemala. It was mainly grilled meats, but they were delicious. I think we are finding that the simpler the foods, the better we do.

The next day, we had a good breakfast and out we went into the crowds and the stuff. As I mentioned, there are a lot of souvenir sellers nowadays, but there were still a lot of vegetable vendors, and folks selling a variety of dry goods. The crowds are pretty intense, and the vendors are trying to get your attention, but the touting is not as in-your-face as we’ve experienced in Asia.

Harriet bought a few things in bulk and for good prices, but I think, in general, we didn’t enjoy the market as much as we’ve enjoyed other, local markets. It’s big, and there are a lot of things, but so much is aimed at tourists that it loses some of the local flavor we we’re interested in seeing. Still, we were both very glad to get out of Antigua and into the highlands of Guatemala.

This was also the national election day and we accidentally walked into a polling place. It was interesting and we would have stuck around, but we’d been warned that elections can be pretty … unsettled – so we left fairly quickly. We did watch the returns that night on TV during dinner. It was all very peaceful. No problems at all.

Next up: Pana-Vision

Link to Chichi Album

The day prior to la dia grande, we visited San Lazaro cemetery where people were sprucing up the family monuments, white-washing walls and generally cleaning up for company that would arrive the following day. We were the only tourists – Guatemalan or gringo. It was a very clean, quiet, well-respected and well-maintained place.

Guatemalans fly kites to celebrate Dia de los Muertos and carry messages to their dearly departed. However, in Santiago Sacatepequez , the practice has (d)evolved into a massive fiesta and competition. And in contrast to the calm, orderly San Lazaro, the cemetery is far from hallowed ground. Literally thousands of people tromp across dirt mounds (yes, the graves), scattering pine needles, juniper boughs and flower petals, to fly kites and view the launch of los barrilates gigantes. There are guys pushing their ice cream carts everywhere and the marketing geniuses at Knorr sent a few men to schlep big canisters of soup on their backs and give out free samples. (Hmmm… 85 degrees, let’s give ‘em some salty hot soup…)

By “gigante” we mean GIGANTE. Upon entering the initial staging area, we saw 12’ octagonal kites with kaleidoscopic designs. Then we watched as they were launched from atop a huge wall of funereal niches. Some kites flew for a minute; others flew for a only few seconds and then came crashing down into the crowd. With each launch and landing, the crowd cheered and groaned in unison.

Then we discovered the 20’ kites. Their teams numbered anywhere from six to 12 men and boys and each group seemed to have their own system for calculating the best time and method to send their creations skyward. There were, evidently, judges roaming around, but the crowd cheered enthusiastically and shared in the disappointment of all the teams equally.

My Derecho or Your Derecho?

Amidst the colorful chaos were several of the truly gigantic kites – we’re talking 50 to 60 feet – that had not yet been raised. These kites were created by cities or organizations and were not meant to fly (unless NASA were to take over the engineering). Similar to their “smaller” cousins, these kites were constructed of regular TISSUE PAPER, layered on top of more plain old tissue paper, wrapped around bamboo frames. The tails were as long as tennis courts and made of old, colorful rags.

We watched as the one and only team made up entirely of women, worked to attach their frame and face. This was a visibly organized group with a clear leader and cooperative members who had, no doubt, spent countless hours processing their issues around hierarchy and coming to a consensus about who would direct the assembly… (sorry, just having a little flashback…)

It looked like one of those barn raisings you see in the old westerns or movies about the Amish or reports of Habitat for Humanity – only mucho, mucho more colorful. As each multi-story kite was raised, the crown screamed and swooned. Each one was more elaborate and breathtaking than the last, and each one seemed to have been as thoughtfully designed and carefully executed as any painting we had ever seen.

Note: We were not very discriminating about which photos to put in the attached album and as a result, there are as many images as we saw colors and designs. Just be grateful we’re not holding you hostage to a home slide show with several hundred pictures…

Next up: Doing the Chichi Cha Cha

Album Link

La Azotea has the corner on the market in Antigua. It’s everywhere. Every shop and restaurant sells the colorful bags of beans or grounds, and presumably uses only La Azotea in their machines which range from heavy duty Italian espresso machines to giant percolators and “Bunn” type drips.

We took one of the many free bus rides to the La Azotea vinca (farm) and then paid more than the most expensive drink at Starbuck’s per person for a tour of the music museum (well worth the price of a good latte), a video about regional dances of Guatemala (worth a decent cup of coffee), and another guided tour through the coffee museum and surrounding gardens (worth a couple of Krista’s lattes). We actually stayed on a beautiful coffee plantation a few years ago so the process of cultivation and processing wasn’t terribly new to us, but it was very interesting to learn about some of the economics of coffee exportation. Fun fact: Viet Nam, in the last 6 years, has become the third largest producer of coffee in the world, behind only Brazil and Columbia.

Pedro’s coffee in Chichicastenengo was by far the best and he said it was just something from the grocery store. The mocha Alan ordered at The Bagel Barn (swear to Dios, that’s the name) was very good. The free stuff at the jade museum was horrific. There’s no way to predict who brews a good cuppa and it’s not particularly inexpensive, so coffee has become, for us, another daily curiosity. How will we like it today…?

Link for Antigua  Album

Irving, our guide, made sure we all had good torches (flashlights), told us our group name was “Tigres” and urged us to stay close together. He also made a point of telling me, no one else, to let him know if I had any problemos. Ha! I walk the dogs to the top of Calle Cerro everyday. Granted, it’s not a long walk and we move at old dog pace, but it’s steep, and, afterall the guidebooks all said this was an easy hike…

Horse’s Ass

The trail was immediately steep and rocky. We lost sight of the 6’4” Austrians within minutes. Suddenly it seemed as if I had done that Inca Trail 30 years ago. (It was only 3 years ago.) But I knew if I could just keep a slow, steady pace, breathe deeply and rest when necessary, I would be fine… It wasn’t fine. It was fricken’ HARD, by any standard. To add to both my relief and humiliation, young men on horseback rode along at the back of the group and called out – taunted, really — “taxi, taxi, lady you want nice taxi caballo?” I’m sure these guys take bets every day as to how many overly confident hikers will succumb to their equine offers. So now my goal was to just stay ahead of the pack of horses snorting hot air at my ass. Eventually, the trail became too steep and narrow for the horses and it was clear that lack of oxygen had prevented me from making the less painful decision to ride the remainder of the way.

Jewish Mothers are Everywhere

Midway to the top, we happened upon a group of middle-aged Israeli women, resting at the side of the trail. I made some comment about how this was a more appropriately paced group for me and we all had one of those moments of instant bonding and understanding. Then one of the women said, “What, you don’t have a (hiking) stick?” I replied that I was fine as long as I went slowly. “No,” she said, “you should have a stick. Get yourself a stick already.” At this point, the little boys selling flashlights and bamboo hiking sticks and horse taxis are long gone, but now I’ve got Jewish mothers on my ass. Oy.

Very Hot and Very, Very Cool

Finally reaching the summit, we looked across the field of pumice to see great falls of magma streaming down the mountainside. Then we carefully made our way along the black waves of cooled lava to the slow flowing rivers of molten lava. How close were we? As close as we could stand without being incinerated. (Click on the picture at right to see more photos.)

We were on a LIVE VOLCANO for godssake!!! It doesn’t get much cooler (or hotter) than that.

Next up: Coffee

Album Link

Early on, we explored the large outdoor market brimming with mounds of fresh fruits and vegetables. It looked like all the makings of many great meals ahead. Nothing looked unfamiliar, but I was still tempted to sign up for a class (which included a tour through the market) at a well regarded cooking school. Now I just needed to taste some great Guatemalan dishes in order to decide which class to take.

We began our culinary exploration in a nice restaurant near the center of town, by ordering a plate of nachos especial, some carne asada, and, since it was Monday, a chile relleno. (I miss you, Ken and Ed. More than you, I miss Isador.) The platter of nachos was huge, the chips were fresh, there was lots of chicken and a mild, but tasty side of pico de gallo. And since this was “el especial,” it came with melted queso. Alan insists on calling it “queso Amarillo” because that’s what it was called on the menu, but it was a runny Cheez Whiz. And it was pretty much downhill from there.

We ate at one of the most highly recommended (by locals and guidebooks alike) places in town and ordered the house specialties, two of Guatemala’s favorite dishes. Dull. We tried another well regarded place and again ordered the chef’s recommendations. Boring. We tried smaller places off the tourist path. Bland. No spice. No heat. No flavor.

It was time to try something other than Guatemalan food. Guatemala still thinks Southern Mexico is theirs so it didn’t feel like “cheating” to go Mexican. We broke down and dragged ourselves into the hopelessly hip Frida’s in the heart of the tourist area. Thank Dios. They had some of the best mole we’ve tasted ever, anywhere.

Then we figured Italian might be okay too since it seems to be very popular, so we tried a little pizza and pasta place that looked promising. The only saving grace was the Gallo beer, which was very good – much like Corona. In hindsight, perhaps if we had ordered muchos mas cervezas, the pasta might have been more palatable. We even got desperate enough to try Chinese, reasoning that even bad Chinese food would at least have some flavor. Total disaster.

Our day trip to Santiago Sacatepequez (more on that in a later post) was slightly more successful. We inhaled a platter of grilled chicken and green onions – still not particularly interesting but at least it was fresh and cheap. We also had great, fresh-from-the-oil churros there.

We tried. We really tried. And we’ll try again, but sadly, so far, Guatemalan food just isn’t wowing us. And today, I hate to admit it, but we broke down completely and ate lunch at Subway and dinner at El Pollo Campero. We are a tad embarrassed to admit it, but both meals were better that anything else we’ve had so far – except that mole at Frida’s.

Needless to say, I’m not signing up for cooking classes.

Next up: The Trip Heats Up

As we strolled several blocks south of Antigua central on our way to the Cultural Center, the chi-chi boutiques became scarcer and gave way to more residential areas, fewer tourists and an occasional Colonial ruin.

The Cultural Center was created by an agreement between one of the universities and the 5-star Casa Santo Domingo Hotel. The hotel — about which Sue Benasso and I would say, “Our parents would stay here” – and several museums are installed in what was once the church and convent of Santo Domingo and the St. Thomas Aquinas College. Soft, sacred music lofts through the “lobby,” tropical, parrot- populated gardens and the broad hallways which are flanked by ancient stone walls complemented by contemporary reinforcements and halogen lighting. It is an exquisite blend of old and new. . . and there is no doubt this is a cinco estrellas place.

Among the museos were two with the greatest appeal for us. The “Hall of the Artist” houses temporary exhibits and currently has a show by contemporary artists paying homage to Frida Kahlo. This is the 100^th anniversary of her birth so we’re certain the there will be many more Frida tributes and retrospectives throughout the art world.

The Museum of Pre-Columbian Art and Modern Glass is just that. But the display is what is quite brilliant with Pre-Hispanic objects made of ceramics and stone, sharing space with contemporary art glass pieces of similar themes and forms. And again, the space is a beautiful marriage of ancient stone walls, newly constructed walls in rich hues, iron supports and gigantic wooden beams overhead, and halogens to bring it all together. Way cool. This rates as one of my favorite museums of all time. (Note from Alan: I overhead the curator asking Harriet for an opinion about something and thought “that’s like asking a tsunami for some water.”) Okay, yes, well I did get a little thrill when the curator wanted to know which style of display placard I preferred . Me? Have an opinion? Graphics? You betcha.

Following through on the Frida Kahlo theme, we returned to the main tourist drag for lunch at the pricey, trendy Frida’s restaurant, where we were overjoyed to at last have our first good meal in Guatemala.

Next up: Food and Coffee

Antigua is extremely touristy and admittedly quaint. We decided it isn’t “charming” for that would imply some greater emotional draw, which for us, is lacking. There are more than 60 language schools here so a large majority of the population is about 23 years old, English-speaking (mostly from the U.S. but with plenty of Aussies, Brits and a few Europeans to round out the mix) and doing their homework in Starbuck’s –like cafes. There are also LOTS of older (older than us, that is) people who seem to like hanging out in the very pricey restaurants and shopping in the very chi-chi boutiques that line the main streets and ring the town plaza. (Note to T: C’s shop looks like it belongs on Coast Village Road to clothe and accessorize the beautiful, après-Botox session crowd. She’s going to make a bundle.)

We stumbled upon a lovely little, mucho upscale shop one afternoon. The savvy, American ex-pat owner has all sorts of expensive items artfully displayed – including Trader Joe’s vinegar, Trader Joe’s pad Thai (all three flavors) and Trader Joe’s red pepper sauce – and not at TJ prices. This is a good example of where this city is headed.

Weather? They don’t call Guatemala the Land of Eternal Spring for nothing. The skies have looked threatening a couple mornings, but every day we have enjoyed perfect weather in the high 70s.

Antigua is surrounded by lush green hillsides and postcard perfect volcanos. The narrow streets are cobblestone which means little parking and therefore, not too many cars. The single-story cement buildings have colorful facades, formidable wooden doors and some nice iron work over every one of the windows of those chi-chi boutiques, pricey restaurants, as well as everything else with an opening.

Speaking of safety, this feels like a relatively safe place. There are tourist police in the main tourist areas but relatively few state police (the scary guys). There are, however, armed guards in front of every bank and ATM, the expensive jewelry stores, the McDonald’s, the Subway sandwich shop, and Pollo Campero, the Guatemalan answer to KFC (that evidently has franchises worldwide).

That being said, Antigua is clean; it’s easy to navigate; there are some good sights; it has a few gorgeous examples of colonial architecture; and it makes a good base from which to venture out into much more interesting places that we know will feel more like the “real” Guatemala we came to explore and less like a Latin-flavored Solvang.