Garifuna Hospitality

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Livingston

Well Livingston was the soft landing that I had hoped for. I wasn’t feeling to happy the last few days I was in Belize but I wasn’t quite ready for full Latin America again, so Livingston was the place to start. I got off the boat and went to customs, the lady was so helpful she even found someone who could speak English to point out who the scam artists were, waiting for easy targets. Literally a few buildings up the hill to the left was the hotel I stayed in, all very quick and easy. There is a dude that works in this place called Harold. He is a tour guide and translator; he speaks several languages including his native Garifuna. This man was so helpful and full of tips and advice that I have to rate him as the best guide I’ve met to date. He also works with the cruise ships and has great aspirations for more employment of the Garifuna people. He gave me a true representation of the situation there and taught me stuff about the Garifuna people. Total Respect to Harold, who helped me out when I was feeling distressed, blue and couldn’t remember a word of Spanish.


Livingston is where I caught my breath and sorted out a mini crisis back home. This wasn’t easy or fun, dealing with automated phone queuing systems when you are eating through phone cards isn’t fun. In times of crisis I generally become a bit more technologically aware. When I went to Brazil in 2000 and missed my flight home, I had to get very user friendly with the internet. I had an account for years but barely knew how to send a message. After needing my friend to send me some cash for the ticket home, I became a whiz at it. Similarly I now understand how to use Skype the programme that allows you to call any number for very little cash or free if they too have a Skype account (Kelly and Richard will be pleased). Now you can be caught up in a telephone queue and not feel your heart pounding through your shirt because it’s really important that you speak someone but not blow tons of money in the process.


Apart from that I sat very still in Livingston, realising that I had blown through more money than I thought and realising that I probably wouldn’t be able to do the full tour that I had vaguely planned. I also realised that after 2 weeks in Belize, I had lost all ability (the little ability I had) to speak Spanish and especially to understand it. I felt like I was back to square one. In Livingston I bumped into Matti again, the Italian modern day hippy that genuinely has a warm glowing air about him. He looked very thin and had explained that when his money hadn’t come through, he hadn’t eaten for nearly 10 days. Jeeeezus, man, what the hell is that about. I’ve seen a streak on self flagellation in a few travelers but this really took the biscuit for me. There are plenty of people not eating properly in the world for real… I’m gonna leave it there. So you’ll all be glad to know that I am physically as well rounded as I have always been. The beach is lovely to watch the sunset in Livingston, I have to admit that that is all I did there. The relaxed air of the place really does the trick. Watching the Garifuna band perform at night was also a treat. Watching the band morph as players come and players go was fascinating. The band fueled on getting tips so they could buy alcohol, disintegrated if they got enough tips for them all to have a drink or if there were not enough tourist to tip.


Rio Dulce

Leaving Livingston I went on a boat trip to Rio Dulce. Speed boats man, I getting well use to them. Just before we took off I called my brother Donald. It was a real buzz to hear his voice and talk to him whilst I was in such beautiful surroundings. The boat trip was ok, it had a few stops by far my favourite was the hot springs we hit. One of my new favourite things to do, sulphur hot springs. When we got to Rio Dulce the place I was a little disappointed and thrown right back into Spanish only speaking territory. I got a room close to the bus station as I didn’t plan to stay more than one night. My plan was to go to Agua Caliente, which is another hot spring that has a waterfall going into it. It makes it a natural spar and I was up for some of that. Not sure which bus would take me there I asked the 1st bus conductor and pointed to the map, he said that where they went and ushered me in. Unfortunately that’s not where they went, I wouldn’t mind but I even had visuals to go with my bad Spanish and he still took me to Puerto Barrios, I place I had no intention of going. When we finally got there I was so upset and vexed I didn’t even get out, I just went straight back with them and guess what, had to pay for the pleasure. That was the straw that broke the camels back, I realised that I needed more Spanish lessons if I wanted to avoid feeling this pissed off again. Back in Rio Dulce I went for a nice meal and got talking to some Guatemalan City folk. The next morning I was up and out by around 5am for the bus to take me to Antigua, there I would go back to school.


Antigua

I get off the big bus in Guatemala City, from what I could see of the town it didn’t look so bad, still I had no intentions of stopping and waited for my connecting shuttle to Antigua. As it happens I was the only person in it and I had a very nice driver who had spent many years working in the U.S. It made me think of my parents who had worked for nearly 40 years in England before they could return to Grenada and build their dream home. I so glad they made it with plenty of time to enjoy it as many don’t. They’ve been there 11 years now and seem very happy. The driver told me all the things to take care off in his opinion the Chicken bus was not to be done on any circumstance and neither were the Tomato Buses. We chatted away and watched the traffic jam build in the other direction due to road works. These road works never got me, in the whole time I was to travel back and forth to ‘Guat’ City as the locals called it, I never got caught up in the ‘stand still’ traffic, believe me I was very chuffed about it. When we got to Antigua he gave me a little tour before dropping me off as I asked at a cheap hotel. He didn’t seem happy about this as he thought I wouldn’t be able to handle the lack of comfort. I assured him that things had to change from now on and I had to get a little more basic.


The first placed I tried was too expensive but the receptionist let me leave my bag whilst I looked for another. Then one of the many tour operator guys that give out leaflets on the street approached me a pointed to a cheap clean place a few doors down. I told him I was looking for a school and he said he show me a good one after I checked in. So off we went to find Latino America Language School. For a fraction of the price I paid in Mexico I got a 1 to 1 tutor for 4 hours a day and lovely family to stay with, for what turned out to be 4 weeks (I originally booked in for 2 but soon realised I needed much more help). I gave to guide a tip and went back to my hotel. After that I did a little tour of my own, some interneting and chilled for the night. Sunday and I did some more touring of Antigua, checking out some of the Rough Guide recommended places. At one café I bumped into the 2 French guys I met in Belize, that live in Managua Nicaragua. We had coffee and cake and their friend gave me the Tica Bus tip for my travels south. It was a very pleasant surprise to see them. After that I went for a stroll and bumped into Jules an English guy I had briefly met in Mexico, met again in Belize and now Antigua. He was doing the same thing, 4 weeks of school.


My1st day at school went well and I felt pleased about my choice. We sat on the roof terrace and my teacher Nineth very patiently got a feel for my (lack) of ability. Afterwards I met my family, Connie, Sergio and their son Danny, and their pets. They both taught Spanish which really helped and we hit it off. The house was basic but it didn’t bother me at all. Sergio was very funny and even though I didn’t really understand Spanish I could understand his jokes. He was also a great cook and I enjoyed meal times. They were in a totally different league to my Mexican family, you could see that they were hustling for every penny they could get; they were catalogue agents, teachers, Connie worked in the evenings at a beauty salon, they gave private lessons and they took in students. Even though they had far less than the Mexican family I stayed with they seemed happier. Whilst in Antigua I felt I got to know the place quite well, I’d stopped even pretending to be interested in colonial churches by that point but I went on some interesting walks around town.


On my first weekend I went on a trip up a live volcano (yes I said live). Vulcan Pacaya was an interesting experience; I was drawn to it like out of share craziness. All week I had been asking people why they wanted to climb up a live volcano and how could they assure me it would decide to blow up or change course at any time. They tried to assure but I wasn’t convinced, and yet I went. I guess I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. My disbelief, first criticism became curiosity. When I got up there I have to say that I wasn’t overwhelmed, I was pleased for the exercise but that was about it. I could feel the rubber on my shoes heating up and I thought, ‘you know what, this is stupid’ (see picture of me titled ‘nutter’, you can see it on my face. So I didn’t go as far as you were allowed to, just to the relatively cool lava flows. I met to lovely guys Isaac and Daniel who lived in Guatemala City though; one was a teacher from America and the other his student. They took the photo of me and have sent some pictures of the lava they saw further up. This is where my camera finally died for real. It kept giving me hope by reviving for short spells. Thanks guys for allowing me to publish the pictures on my blog.


The school provided salsa lessons which I enjoyed but unfortunately I had to get a varuka removed from the sole of my foot and after that there was no dancing for me. In fact there was lots of hobbling, Antigua’s streets are not easy at the best of time, but with a open wound the cobbled streets became a bit of a nightmare. Still the day after I had the op I had previously booked myself for a trip to Copan in Honduras. I wasn’t too worried as the day mainly entailed driving for hours and hours then seeing the ruins for 3 hours and then back to more driving. Even though I was perhaps the youngest of the group I was the one trailing behind, hobbling away. Still Copan was amazing and the amount of detail there was astounding. I was impressed and distressed at the same time as I didn’t have a camera and the guide kept saying, ’this is a great shot, oh yeah but you don’t have a camera’. I wanted to deck him by the 3rd or 4th time, but I kept it civil. He clearly didn’t realise the torment of not having my camera. Luckily a lovely American guy called Nick promised me to send some of his pictures, which he did. Thanks Nick, much appreciated.


The school also provided trips to see some traditional Mayan culture, Cero de la Cruz (not sure if I’ve spelt it right) and a Macadamia Farm. We had a lovely walk up to the cross and a great view from the top. We made a rapid decent (running our arses off) as the rain came thick and fast. It was fun even though we got stuck under very thin shelter for over an hour. The Macadamia farm was very uneventful and I wondered why I had bothered. The San Antonio Mayan culture trip was very interesting as there was lots of crowd participation that I wasn’t aware would be the case. We took a bus to what was basically a shop, I had thought we were going to a village. Anyway we (2 German girls a guy from New Zealand and my good self) were seated and then the show began. The women showed us how they weaved, cooked and a traditional dance. This was followed by a request for volunteers, I refused and felt quite safe that I had missed all attempts to get me involved. The 2 German girls had to do it, one had her hair plated in the way that would show she was an unmarried young woman and the other to show the opposite. After that bit of entertainment came the blow. They needed a man and woman to volunteer to be a couple getting married. Since Warrick (New Zealand bloke) and I were the only ones left, we did the deed.

Once I was up and they were dressing me in the traditional wear I got right into it, well what else is there to do. Warrick who I had thought was rather dry and boring from the little contact we had had at the school, turned out to be right up for the crack which surprised me. (I latter would revert back to my original view of the man). So there we were dressed up in our fineries and going through the paces, which involved the couple having two ceremonies, one lasting up to 3hrs where the whole family are on bended knee praying for the newly weds. They also have to dance for 10hrs and the woman spends the year before weaving a shall for the mother in law. Now if the mother in law don’t like it, she has to do it all over again (I was shocked). Warrick was a very strange dude who in the end came to live with my Guatemalan family, he seemed to complain about everything and was never happy. Still I have to thank him for;sharing some of his photos with me and allowing me to put them on my blog, for doing hilarious impersonations of his teacher who liked to talk about drogas and Christina Aguluira, for making me realise that I am far more content with life than I ever imagined and for making me question the point of his existence.


There was no getting to know any Guatemalans in Antigua, except for my family and teacher there just wasn’t much chance to meet them. Antigua is swarming with tourists and people that came and never left. Lots of the businesses, bars, restaurants and clubs are owned by people from just about everywhere else in the world. It really was a backpackers heaven really and I have to admit that I really didn’t see much of the real Guatemala. I did meet a dude that I bumped into in Mexico and Belize called Jules from London and he introduced me to his Antigua gang. Steve, Sarah, Jules2 and Nina, all of which were great fun. They hailed from Ireland, Australia and Sweden and basically gave me an opportunity to go out drinking and have a laugh. I had tried going out on my own and always ended up with unwanted Latin attention. Note to female travellers, basically if travel in Central America and go out to a bar, club or even restaurant as I found, you will be considered fair game to any and every toothless (for some reason this is the type I attracted most) Latino lover. They think that if you are a female on your own, you MUST need and be looking for a man’s company. They think you are desperate and probably crazy so if you need a drink, want to dance, or just socialise hang with other travellers.


I had no real plans to but I was pleased when I decided to go to the Pacific coast of Guatemala. This meant that I had travelled from one end to the other and although I really hadn’t seen much of Guatemala I covered the some ground. The place was called Sipocate, it wasn’t very touristy so was very quiet and peaceful. Not sight of Tortugas even though I gave my best pre dawn shot, still I got to see the pink, blue and grey sky reflected in the ever so strong Pacific waters soaking on the dark and glistening sand. I also got some jokes from some elder local women who seem to have an endless number of rude words for both male and female private parts. Thanks for the beer, hospitality and increased vocabulary Ladies.

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Photos

Mi esquela
the yellow and brown building to the left

Trraditional Mayan culture visit4
volunteered Warrick and Donna reinact the typical Mayan wedding ceremony, which includes two wedding services with the whole family prayering for hours on bended knee in one, the couple dancing for 10hours and a whole lot more.

at the top by the cross
it´s just about to come down in buckets

Comments

[atim]

Great blog! Wonderful pictures. Wish I was there!!