Ometepe

I got scammed on the way to this island, so my first impression wasn't the best. Then I spent the night lazying about because there was nothing to do after dark except drink a coke and read a book.

Last night I could barely sleep because the room was so damn hot and sticky. 

This morning I woke to an empty hostel, one woman sweeping the floor who said she couldn't rent me a towel and my clothes were still wet from yesterday.

So... I woke up in a generally foul mood as well. 

Then I rented a scooter and though scary, I got to see a portion of the island, the vibrancy of the plants, the craziness of the animals... And for a while I felt better. 

It's still hot, and I am generally in a funk that is likely being prolonged by the heat, but it was a beautiful day. A little expensive since I scratched the paint on my way to the museum, but still it was mostly a good day.

The heat

It's so hot, and yet the Nicaraguans wear jeans. Full jeans, not shorts. 

Managua in Words

The vegetation is tropical, but drying in the ridiculous heat, the leaves are brown on the street, and yellowing in the sky. 

The houses are cramped on the edges of the city, not enough room to breathe, sharing walls and likely laughter, in the dark spaces behind their cement walls and waving iron roofs. 

In the middle of the city (the old part, rebuilt) there is space. Too much space, and in the morning, the people don't come out to fill it. Vacant lots, vacant parking spaces, vacant parks and the occasional vendor setting up for something that must not happen till the sun is much higher or lower in the sky. 

The wide avenues allow for racing cars and there is no need for honking. 

The sun suffocates the sidewalks and anyone who does exist, hides in shadows under trees or impermanent shelters. 

What stores and restaurants exist are behind muraled walls with exclusive access, the neighborhoods suggest development based on security. 

With no tiendas the vendors come out and after setting out their wears, and a  selection of beverages retreat to hammocks and benches in cooler places. It's like the Caribbean only dressed in the concrete of modernity. 

The parks are huge, and promise splendor, maps display shops and amusements, gardens and monuments, but the parks jut out of nowhere, a modern retraction from what otherwise seems barren. 

There is a lake with lapping waves and mountains in the distance. Staring across seems like staring at a muted watercolor, the tones muddled into dull. But hehind you is the pier with colorful flags streaming, with vibrant colors painted everywhere. I kind of joke, in which the man made holds your attention far longer than what should be a buffet of splendor. 

The commercial areas are herded with shepherds in security outfits and fox-like taxi drivers prowling on the outside. The stores are familiar, a mixture of cheap trash and fashion. 

In between the herds are vast "natural" spaces where the grass is overgrown and the trees untamed, they would make great parks but they are inundated with garbage and the broken bits of buildings. The homeless have set up camps using old brick walls as a wind break and a collection of whatever was available for the other walls. The roof(if there is one)  is rusted corrogation. The yard is as much garbage dump as it is a place to stretch out. 

These encampments are in some cases the neighbor to fancy new buildings, car dealerships, banks, restaurants. 

The city is made to mythologize. The destruction of massive areas by earthquakes has meant rebuilding with new faces... Prominently displayed at every respectful street corners, park., highway wall, are the names and quotes, the faces and symbols of revolutionary Latin Americans. 

Some are so common that they stop being human leaders and instead turn into the Jolly Green Giant, or Paul Bunyan. Their giant silhouettes saying to all the poor families "this park is yours, This street is yours, this dilapidated falling apart palace is yours... Now don't. Question too much" 

A

Hot as... León

Spent the last couple days walking around the city of Leon, Nicaragua with some friends from Guatemala. 

It's hot enough to be a desert town and directly east is a whole line of volcanoes many of which are actively spewing lava and smoke into the air.

León is considered the more liberal of the  one time colonial cities, as I mentioned before the Sandinistas are pretty popular here.

Sandinista flags line the streets near a memorial. 

But other than the monuments I'm not sure what stands out as particularly progressive or liberal. The city has a few museums we checked out, one was an art museum with a wide mix of styles and pieces in two separate buildings but because it was a private collection we weren't allowed to take pictures. 

My friends spent most of their time in the art museum making up imaginative summaries for the more abstract pieces, while I tried to figure out what historical context the various Latin American artists were painting in- many of the pieces were during or before revolutions and civil wars. 

The other museum we saw was an entomological exhibit showing bugs from here and abroad. Collections of beetles, moths, spiders and scorpions were all fascinating but the most beautiful were the butterflies  of course.  

Other than the museums are time was mostly spent going in and out of colonial churches around town and dodging the sun as best we could. 

Oh and of course climbing a volcano. 

While some of our other friends went to do the "more adventurous/adrenaline rush" of volcano boarding, my friends Sara and Anna and I went on a volcano night hike at Vulcan Telica. The ultimate goal is to see lava at night, but unfortunately our volcano partially caved in a few days ago so we didn't see any (que triste). The views however were awesome!

Seeing the caldera of a volcano is always thrilling but seeing it this close was a little scary and awe inspiring. 

Especially when we jumped in- to our certain deaths. 

And the thrills just kept coming... Our guide promised us something special so as we walked up to this trench/cave in the side of the volcano, she mentioned "ok now we go into the bat cave" and all of us had a moment of "the what?" Before climbing in...

All the white things are bats flying. I have a video, but can't upload it yet.

Honestly I think being surrounded by bats was probably the highlight of the night, it was just non stop adrenaline the whole time we were in there... Which I've been told lasted a lot longer than sledding down a volcano hill (ten seconds). 

Anyway we didn't get to see the lava, but we did see a beautiful sunset and could just barely make out the ocean about 50 km or 30 miles away.

Overall the time in León was great. Now I am headed off to the second biggest city in Central America recently described to me as "barking dogs, police sirens and gun shots" don't worry I am staying in a safer neighborhood. 

A thought

I was watching a street festival outside of the cathedral in León )

(Possibly a fundraiser for renovations for the building). This is supposedly Sandinista territory and there are monuments and hospitals and things dedicated to the revolution. 

Watching people dance and clap and smile while listening to the latest dance music with the Sandinista flag waving crazily behind them, I can't help but wonder what everyone was so afraid of...

Communism!!! 

Schools and hospitals and taking care of people.

The redistribution of land? Taking land from those who own regions... The Dons entrusted to rule over dozens of villages like feudal lords.  The U.S. Once said that any reservation land that wasn't being currently farmed by Native Americans had to be redistributed and sold (under valued) to poor homesteaders, but when communists propose the same its time for war.   

Did they think they would take away their freedom? What freedom?

The freedom to buy what they couldn't afford? The freedom to read and write and speak - though kept intentionally illiterate? The freedom of religion? Do you think these people would give it up when the spanish couldn't even stamp it out/replace it entirely, the center of people's lives, the place next to the schools and markets the other place of people's lives... 

They smile and dance and cheer each other on... The commies. 

What were we so afraid of that we had to arm and murder and take away all those smiles? 

The Goods in the Market

Throughout my time In Latin America I've run into various products that have been mass produced and yet  sold as if they were handmade. I'm thinking mostly of the textiles, but wood carvings, jewelry and and clay statues surely fit the bill. Markets and tourist stores are full of them, women and children will approach you with arms full. Some are very clearly the same products you can get in the US. Silk or pashmina blend scarves sold all around the world... Others have designs as if they were local, perhaps finalized locally with a pattern that makes it seem a little more special. 

But where do these products come from? Are they made in giant factories along the banks of polluted chinese rivers? Are they made in small villages in mountain towns in India or in Guatemala?  Are they made on blackstrap looms by women sitting and chatting or by large industrial machines that keep the people awake all night with the noise?

Are the colors made locally or shipped from Indonesia? Is the material from the sheep in the countryside or from the cotton fields of Central Asia, or the oil fields in the Middle East?

Are these products shipped in vast cargos ships, to ports along the coast where they are loaded up into trucks and further distributed from warehouses... or brought down by trucks from the highlands, one guy making the rounds to each of the houses. Collecting that week's harvest, to be sold in the markets of the region. 

If they are hand made in little towns, then where are these towns?  And how does the product of one place end up in so many? How is it that I can but the same blanket in Cancun, Oaxaca, Antigua and Copan? If it's the same pattern distributed to many locations than how do they get the materials? 

But perhaps the question that sets it all in motion,  what is the price?

The price should tell us the distance, the quality, who made it and where... But because the price varies depending on who is buying, we get nothing.

The Baja hoodie (drug rag) sells for between $3-30 depending not on the distance but upon the buyer. The person selling it couldn't possibly have made it- they are the vendor... So we are already talking about a product that 2 people are involved with that can somehow be sold for $3... If mass produced locally that might make sense, but if made locally by hand, there is no way that is worth the time, effort, materials. Someone needs to live off that $3 potentially more than 1 or 2 people.  

So most likely it is made in a factory, local or international... But if international how can it be made, shipped and sold for $3?? Even the gasoline used to take it from the coast, or a large city all the way to these mountain towns seems to beg for more than $3. 

If it's made locally how do they afford the machinery?   Sometimes I look at the teenagers selling a handful of scarves and think "even if it costs them a dollar a piece, that still means they spent 25 dollars (usually more) on those items to sell... How did they earn 25 dollars to build up their stockpile? Did they do it 3 at a time? Sell a scarf for $9 buy a handful more and starve for the night?

But they are not starving. The majority, even the street kids have clothes and food. Which begs the question are they family units? Cooperatives? Are NGOs or churches or micro-financiers  supplementing them for a time? 

How does this process work.

I asked the tour guide today. He assumed the products weren't made in china, but his guess was Guatemala. But everyone in Mexico assumes Guatemala is just a little worse off than anywhere in Mexico, I wonder if I asked a Guatemalan tour guide If he would tell me Honduras.

I also asked him if he thought the venders would know... He assumed not. 

But ask the vendors directly and they will say it was handmade, sometimes they will even say they made it. 

Xela

When I first got to Xela it was raining, dismal and gray. I knew it was the weather and the fact that Id been cooped up in a shuttle bus for 7 hours, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to leave sooner than I had planned. 

I decided to make the most of the rest of the evening by doing a sort of survey of the city. Quetzaltenango(Nicknamed Xela based on its original name Xelaju) is the second biggest city in Guatemala. Like the big city its polluted and crumbling in places. Like the big city it has a fair share of old and new. Like the big city it is packed with people... 

But as I got out and about, Xela started to feel nice, maybe it was the fact that through the rain clouds you could actually see the surrounding country, maybe it was that mix of outdoor eateries and spanish court yard restaurants,

Or maybe the strange totally out of place Romanesque architecture of all the big monuments and important buildings...

Over time though I realized it was not the buildings and businesses both familiar  and new, or the open air markets or the awesome french fry place... 

It was the kids.

Even in the rain last night, even in the dark when I was walking home, or all day today I saw children. School age kids in uniforms, youth with backpacks, college age kids coming out of classes... This city is full of schools and universities (and spanish language schools for tourists)... But they are not hiding, or in a rush, or chaperoned by their parents. They are laughing and smiling innocently on street corners, walking down dark alleys and totally unafraid. Totally enjoying life the way young people should. 

If you have ever seen the movie Children of Men that is a little of how Guatemala City feels. It's not that there aren't children out playing or walking, but there is a constant fear... There is barbed wire, and guards everywhere. Children are handheld and briskly lead to where tey are going. It is an environment where hope is closely guarded, by shotguns and fear is ever present. But Xela doesn't feel that way. It's got the crowded streets, te horn honking the exhaust, the same shopping centers and coffee shops, but the fear doesn't seem

as prevalent. The city feels like a breah of fresh air, still very Guatemalan, but comfortable.  

Antigua is a short distance from the city, but feels touristy. The lake has some nice small towns, but feels kind of cut off, like a vacation spot. The small towns feel very small... But perhaps Xela is the goldilocks of Guatemala. 

I'm leaving tomorrow or the next day. I won't be doing all the cool nature hikes or the cool cultural tours, but I am glad I got to come here for a bit. Just to experience a Guatemalan city that feels a little more natural.

Oaxaca and San Cristobal de las Casas

When I was looking for places to live and teach, I had a small set of conveniences and other items I was looking for:

First the city must have a good feel. Hard to explain this one, but some cities feel great from the moment you arrive till the moment you leave. The kind of city you want to return to even when you've just been.  There are lots of these places but they are not every stop on your journey... Gautemala city was not one of these places, even though I had a good time there, the city never felt great and when I decided to leave I remember thinking distinctly that the feel of the city was part of it. 

After that it was a list of things that seem silly but I know matter to my sense of calm.  A coffee shop with good lighting and decent coffee. A chinese restaurant that I like. Some sort of chain fast food. A movie theater.

Then there was the it would be cool if- though for me some of this plays into the feel of a city. It would be cool if there was an abundance of street art. A history to the place. Friendly people and cultural exhibits of some sort. Green space and somewhere with natural water. A progressive scene, liberal politics etc.

Those things are really unique to a place, for instance Rio de Janeiro had a to. Of street art but I didn't like the style all the time. 

Ciudad del Este in paraguay had a big lake with walking paths, and several big parks but I would not choose to live there. 

Do it's really the mix of things that make a place. 

The last few days I've been in San Cristobal de las Casas and this morning I arrived in Oaxaca. Both of these places would make my list, though really they aren't all that much alike. 

Both cities have a historic touristy area and a more modern though not always better looking local area. The centers have historic churches, big squares with music and street performers, art sellers etc. Both have pedestrian areas with restaurants, galleries and coffee shops. Both have markets both for tourists and locals.  But both cities despite their obvious Mexican background, kind of look and feel nothing alike...

And yet they are both awesome. 

Here are some pictures.

That was all in Oaxaca 

Here are a few from San Cristobal 

Back to Mexico

As I've mentioned my last time to this part of the world ended poorly. After a serious dose of radiation at the lake I got sun poisoning (something I had never heard of) which seriously knocked me out.  I painfully followed through with the next few days of my trip as the burn got worse, eventually leading me to a Mexican hospital in San Cristobal De las Casas.  

I'm in San Cristobal de las Casas. 

After a very restless hostel sleep last night I woke up super early and caught a shuttle for the Mexican border. The shuttle wound around the lake, and stopped briefly in Xela (where I will hopefully spend a day or two on the way back). 

As we got further and further into the Guatemalan highlands, the winding curves and tiny colorful towns reminded me of the last time I was there. I remember an almost hallucinatory experience, completely nauseous and hoping around each bend we would  finally stop. I thought it was car sickness mixed perhaps with altitude sickness... I didn't know the sun could poison you. 

This time I watched as the hills grew larger,  turning into a mountain chain instead of a series of volcano points. It reminded me at first of the Andes, the vast wall of slopes covered in various types of vegetation.

As we drove, memories played out in my mind. I remembered accurately the Guatemalan border area, the plateau street with shops on either side. I remembered it being lively, and extrnely hot, and today was the same...but the Mexican side didn't hit me till I got there and remembered at the time how desperate I was for a bathroom.

How I worried people would think I was on drugs. How I was fading in and out of full consciousness, desperate to sleep and to ease the nausea. 

When in Mexico, the roads smoothed out and I must have slept because I didn't remember the countryside. 

The mountain towns that in there wood and cement block construction look more and more like the monotone desert towns of Mexico rather than the coastal lively colorful ones. 

The farms inbetween pine forest covered hills, the ewes and Rams running around. 

The turkeys and chickens and the life style that paints images of the black hills or the Appalachians in my mind. 

I remembered accurately the many military bases, the clean smooth facades, sometimes in the middle of a forest and at other times like malls on cleared suburban looking cement. 

As we approached San Cristobal I got excited. Things started to look familiar  in a really intense way.  I   Remembered the feeling of desperation. Of wanting to see everything and knowing I couldn't. It's a beautiful city and I was confined by immobile feet, so I pushed myself, straining through an ever present pain, a gritting, a streaking, a on the verge of tears kind of pain.  I remember the pain almost enhanced the magic of the place. It was a colonial city like Antigua which at the time I had just seen, but felt even more vibrant because it seemed to serve locals as much as tourists. 

As we drove in today, I felt confident. Readin for a stroll through the cobblestones, ready to relive and fill in the gaps... And so far the city has not disappointed. 

I leave tomorrow night for Oaxaca (an entirely new experience). But today and tomorrow I am going to try to take it all in.

 

Also I made a friend, we've decided that this guy (yet to be named something other than ugly lion) will do some exploring with me. 

More soon. 

Moving On

This morning I left my apartment for the last time. Not the building though, I'm hoping to return a few times to say hi before I head home. 

Moving on from work here was not an easy decision. For the past 8 weeks I've spent each day in front of a classroom full of students, secretly thinking about how I was going to be leaving soon. Rather than that secret fueling my desires to leave, it's just left me feeling guilty. 

Yesterday was my last day at work, and I went to work nervous because thus far I had been instructed not to tell the students. My boss came around about 15 minutes into class and told me it was ok to tell them... So each class had their moment, some tears were shed, lots of me trying to reassure them that it wasn't about them, lots of apologies for bad behavior (though it didn't necessarily change during the hour), one class clapped, hugs were given, many colorful notes were placed on my desk. It was overall a really nice goodbye.

I spent last night cleaning out my apartment and giving stuff away. 

Today I am headed out into the world again. 

Itinerary  (always subject to change).

The plan in the immediate is to spend tonight in Antigua, then head to San Cristobal de las Casas (Mexico) tomorrow. I am hoping to spend the night  and day there then head to Oaxaca (overnight bus). After a few days in Oaxaca I would backtrack and either go to Merida to see a friend from South America or back to San Cristobal. 

After Mexico I will meet up again with my friends in Guatemala and take a shuttle or bus to Nicaragua. There are 5 or 6 spots I want to check out in Nicaragua before heading back overland through Honduras and El Salvador checking out some places in each.  In all I will spend about 2 weeks in Mexico, 2 weeks in Nicaragua, and roughly a week or so in Honduras and El Salvador. 

I fly home on the 23 of July from Guatemala City. 

I know that I can easily make this schedule and see all the spots, but after so many weeks of constantly working one of my goals will be to give myself a break. Hopefully that means a few days in each spot, not crazy rushing the whole time. 

I have been trying to figure out other goals for the trip today. I think one will be to do some journaling and catching up. Another to do some watercolor along the way. But mostly I want to let my brain and heart to think and process and figure out what they want. 

Months ago I was unhappy because I didn't have enough time to do creative projects while working. Over the last 8 weeks I have been so busy working, focusing on getting through the job... That I accidentally got stuck in that rhythm again. Now I am not sure what it was I wanted to do with my time off, but I am hoping to find it again before I head home. 

The hardest part of leaving is that there is a community of people I respect and have grown to care about here. 

Today when I was leaving it made me feel relieved to say "see ya in a couple of weeks" instead of goodbye. But soon that will not be the case.

I know that the world is full of wonderful people, but it has been lovely to have a group that has been part of my life, both work and play... Now I will be on my own again. 

I guess I can look forward to talking to myself. 

Getting ready

I leave in a week... Where to?

I was thinking about heading west, then north west, then back here, then south and maybe east,  then north again, and west and then back here to catch a plane home in July. 

Specifically Mexico, San cristobal and Oaxaca. Then back through Xela and here around the 19th or 20th.

Then direct to Nicaragua where I would see these places: Managua, León, Granada, esteli, Isla de ometepe

Then to Honduras and then El Salvador 

gracias, la Esperanza , Lagos de yogoa, Tegucigalpa, 

El Salvador- San Salvador, cihuatan,joga de cerei, ruinas,suchitoto, apaneca-juayua

Then back here