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We took a mini-bus from San Cristobal to Panajachel by Lake Atitlan in neighbouring Guatemala. It took over nine hours, which is close to the limit of time you can spend inside a vehicle and still remain in good humor. I had expected we'd be doing the trip in an over-crowded mini-bus in the South East Asian style but that didn't turn out to be so. In Central America they don't seem to operate using the Asian 'shoe horn system'. The system where the object for the bus company is to sell as many bus tickets as possible regardless of minor logistics like seating, and just hope that things work themselves out on the day.
Its the rainy season now in Guatemala as it is all over Central America and as we got closer to Lake Atitlan the sky turned black, malevolent looking cloud expanding across the horizon. Eventually it started to rain and when it did it poured down without respite for the next forty eight hours. Years ago we went to Zanzibar in what was the rainy reason in East Africa, but all that meant was just one massive downpour in the afternoon followed by blue skies. But
the guide takes an early bath
middle top, diving in mid airthis was different, consistent and persistant rain, like summers past in Manchester.
On the journey to Lake Atiltan a car came towards our mini-bus on the wrong side of the dual carriageway and one by one other vehicles followed. It turned out there was a land slide blocking our side of the road and people were turning back into the oncoming traffic to look for a place they could U turn to attempt to pass the land slide on the actual wrong side of the road. It sounds dangerous to me, but with no traffic cops people just got on with it. It must happen all the time because the closer we got to the lake there were more chunks of rock and earth strewn over road at intervals, and dangerous looking torrents of muddy water sluicing down the mountain sides. You hear stories on the news about parts of the world where whole villages disappear under land slides and you wonder how it can be so, but in Guatemala you can clearly see how that might happen.
We probably might have stayed longer at Lake Atitlan, but it looked like it could continue raining until Noah returned to build
a new ark, so we left after two days.
*Rant time
I think Panajachel is the only place I've ever been where its normal for street hawkers to sell to you inside restaurants, could be four or five times everytime you sit down to eat. I don't mind it out on the street and I appreciate that its low season now and people still have to make a living but Panajachel is too much.
Street hawkers are persistent, that's their job, but nowhere more so than when the textile selling ladies of Guatemala have got you captive in your seat in a Panajachel eatery. A scene is played out and it goes like this......
They know that after you've said thanks but No, you don't want to buy wrist ties woven in all the colours of the rainbow that you're probably not going to want to buy a woolly hat with floppy ears, poncho, or whatever of a similar material. But they produce all their wares one by one anyway like you asked them to do it. Then after your final thanks but No, they let a silence drift while you look up at them knife and fork in
hand and they gaze back at you. It's uncomfortable, it's meant to embarrass you into buying something. Then eventually they go but not before shooting you one last measured look of reproach. And the message conveyed in the look says........"You, you must be one heartless bastard not to buy just one thing off me, a poor working women trying to put food on the table"
After about the fifth time in an hour me and Lynn might share a look and discuss, "What if we did buy just one thing off every person who tried to sell us something here, where would we put it all?"
If think if I'd of had to stay in Panajachel just one more day I would have hired the ceremonial robes of a Mayan shamen, and wore them every time I left the hotel just to buy a minutes peace.
Panajachel is touristy because it's on a circuit connecting the famous archaeological sites and colonial towns of Southern Mexico and Central America. It's so well trodden that in Antigua in particular, petty as it is, if it wasn't for the sight of the volcano's dominating the skyline you wouldn't know you were in
Guatemala at all. These places are popular for good reason, because they are either beautiful or interesting. But the feeling of being on a backpacker conveyor belt was beginning to grate on me and Lynn so we decided to head to El Salvador where there's less tourist traffic.
With Guatemala fresh in my mind when the bus parked up at the El Salvadorean border I groaned inwardly when I saw an army of vendors approaching the coach. But I needn't have worried because the El Salvadoran vendors turned out to be a lot more easy going. They got on the bus welcoming people to El Salvador and laughing and joking, ambassadors of the general good naturedness to come.
I had to smile because one ample lady selling fruit got on whose breasts were over flowing the top she probably last fitted into properly in 1989. She held a tray of fruit above her head in one hand like a waiter. As she brushed passed me the words flashed through my mind "I'll have the melons please" but luckily I managed to keep my gutter mouth shut, this time.
After the border crossing into El Salvador we were the
sleepy village
the lattice pattern on the hillside is a coffee plantation only people to exit the bus at the town of Santa Ana. The rest of the bus were heading for the surf beaches El Salvador is most well known for. There were yet more amiable El Salvadorans in Santa Ana and I could tell by the second glances we got that they don't see many foreign visitors, and we liked it there for that. Being anonymous, and knowing that after Guatemala conversations instigated by local people wouldn't be based solely around commercial transactions. It was ok for a night in Santa Ana but I wouldn't want to stay much longer. There is an attractive central plaza with typically colourful and grandiose Central American buildings and church.
Next day we took a bus to Juayua, a laid back little village we used as a base to explore the 'Ruta de las flores' (route of the flowers) which is a string of villages through mountains and volcanoes covered in lush forest and coffee plantations. We stayed at the Hostel Anahuac where on the first day they organized a guide for us and we did a seven hour walk to some cascades in nearby hills. Nobody mentioned words like 'tough' before the
hike yet me and Lynn found it hard going. It's been a while since we've done anything active and I'd forgotten all about the mud and heat of walking in tropical forest, but still it was great to do something outdoors after the past few weeks of Spanish school. During the walk I noticed a type of flower I've seen before in florists back home, exotic looking and expensive, yet in El Salvador its growing wild on a river bank as prolific as weeds.
On Saturdays there is a food fair in Juayua. On the day there was a festive atmosphere in the plaza with live music blaring out. One of the local bums who are always pissed on an orange looking liquid in unlabelled bottles got the party started with some dance moves he must have copied from a dying mosquito. Someone handed me a piece of steak on a cocktail stick and I chewed and ate it noting the weird taste. I looked back at the stall where it came from and I saw I'd eaten rabbit steak. The thought of this left me mentally scarred for an hour or so until we found a stall selling
this guy is the dictionary definition 'gentle giant'
He opened his restaurant at 11am each day. But when I asked him if he knew of anywhere we could get a good breakfast he asked, what time do you want it? and opened up at 8 just for us cooking up a gourmet breckie! paella. The Spanish influence in Central America doesn't seem to include Spanish food unfortunately. Its been seven months or more since we've last eaten paella so to find it here was a happy moment. There was also a great and afforadable steak restaurant in Juayua called R & R's.
The owners of the hostel Anahuac in Juayua were a young couple, he El Salvadoran and she Danish. The Danish girl's father owned a house a couple of hours away on the coast that was up for rent at 25 US dollars a night. It looked OK in the photos so we made our way there. The hostel in Juayua was good value and spotless so I was surprised when we got to this house of theirs to see that the kitchen, our bedroom and bathroom were in fact very basic, or in a certain light, dirty. And also occupied by fat black mosquitos that refused to call a truce day or night.
So the interior of the house was really nothing to speak of, but the glory of the place was an outside living area that was much bigger than the indoor living space. Strewn with hammocks, sofas, a
Juayua food festival
I think there is a gap in the market for outfits like this, in Bolton. BBQ and table and chairs. Beyond this was a small pool they must have added to the property, and beyond that a few palm trees after which there was a fence with a wooden gate that opened onto the sand.
With the volcanic nature of the sand and the black rocks protruding out of the sea El Salvadoran swimming beaches are never going to win any awards, but still, a house with a back gate that opens onto the sand is something most people would aspire to.
The days we were there I used to wake up with the birds, brew some coffee, then go sit on the sand and watch the Pacific waves crash in with the turn of the tide for an hour or so.
I was curious about how much the Danish owners had paid for the house when they bought it three years earlier, but of course you can't ask these questions. I got some vague information from conversations with El Salvadorans about prices of houses on the coast. One said $10,000 US, and the other $16,000 US. Sounds too good to be true don't you think? But I've no idea if their idea of a
house and my idea of a house would be the same thing. And at the end of the day its all irrelevent, because if you wanted to buy a house here you'd find that there was one price for locals and one totally different one for 'gringos' (Europeans/Americans) I'm positive the Danish owner of the house would have used his El Salvadoran son in law or his family to do the deal.
The first day at the house we took a walk to a fishing village nearby, it was a Sunday and the place was very busy. All the generations of El Salvadoran families down at the beach for a day to swim or just relax. Just like the English Sunday roast tradition only they visit the beach to dine on fresh fish with lime and salt instead of roast potatos and gravy. We sat down and ordered two whole fish off the grill and twelve king prawns and the bill came to just over ten quid. The place we choose to eat at was full of El Salvadoran families, a local guy leaned over from the next table and said to me in English "welcome". Its not the
the love of my life
No, not Lynn, the bottle of Nicarguan rum she's holding. A new discovery for us, its aged 7 years so its damn spicy, nice first time that's happened to us here.
For me there are parallels between Cambodia and El Salvador. The El Salvadoran and Cambodian people both suffered badly during civil wars in their respective countries through the 1980's and early 1990's. Yet the El Salvadorans are for the most part very amenable, as were the Cambodians. You would think both people would be jaded and bitter after what they've been through. Makes me think is there something about living through years of adversity during war that galvanizes people in the aftermath?
But the other side to El Salvador is that there are on average fourteen murders a day. These murders are mostly gang related though and separate to the lives of everyday people. There are areas in certain cities that you don't want to visit at night in El Salvador, it's the same story in cities all over Central and South America. And in England too!
Right now we are in the North of El Salvador in the village of Suchitoto, this could be the daddy of all laid back villages in El Salvador. The only word to describe the sunny cobbled streets and atmosphere generated by the locals is,
timeless.The same old characters you pass sat down chatting about nothing to their mates at breakfast time are the same guys still there when you pass the same spot six hours later.
And greetings, I've never been to a place where so much importance is placed on social protocol. You better remember what hour of the day your "Buenos Dias" (good day) turns to"Buenas Tardes" (good afternoon) and what hour of the afternoon "Buenas Tardes" changes to "Buenos Noches" (good evening) And god forbid you forget to finish off any request with "Por Favor" (please)
It's a good thing though, it shows they obviously have a strong sense of community, the common civilty is unforced. Not wanting to appear the ignorant tourists we're chirping "good day's" all day long.
It makes a difference to me and Lynn how the people are in the countries we visit. I can't relax and enjoy myself in a place if I sense that vistors are unwelcome in any way. That's not the case in El Salvador.
We heard off an Aussie bloke yesterday that there has been a military coup in neighboring Honduras. We had planned to take a bus to Nicaragua in
a few days which would have had to cross a short land strip of Honduras to reach Nicaragua. But for now at least no bus company is operating a service crossing Honduras. Dammed inconvenient.
But I suppose armed revolution, military coups, and funny looking dictators in over decorated military uniforms are as much a part of Central American culture as beans, rice and tortillas. So we'll just have to sit back and see how things play out.
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Annette
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hippies.com
Just had a massive catch up sesh (accompanied by bottle of red) . All sounds amazing - glad u liked San Francisco, always fancied going there!!!!!!!! Get missing u pangs every time in Chorlon.........................complete woos Ax