To Xela and Spanish School.

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Well, the adventure on Pacaya was more or less successful. I didn't make it to the summitt or see the lava, which was a bummer, and I lost my camera, yes, its horribly true but I think its sitting on the volcano or it was robbed the next day. However, I was able to hitch a ride back to antigua, where all my things were sitting in the hostel where I was living, witth a group from a travel agency that we caught walking down.

I left antigua on a chicken bus headed for los encuentros and from there to Tecpan. I decided to take the northern route to lake atitlan and stop by Iximche rather than going south to the coast. After a rather smooth two bus trip I found myself walking up a narrow road from the Highway to Tecpan, and realized rather quickly that this was not a city, but a highway pueblo. In passing I met a guy named Geovanni, a college kid heading home for the weekend, and he offered to show me around the town. We walked around for a few hours and got a coffee, and he told me all about his life.

The next day I went to the ruins of Iximche. In short, Ixchimche was one of the most important post classic mayan cities when the conquistodores arrived, and for this reason it was the first capital of guatemala, before antigua. It is smaller than the more famous classic sites, squat and made of smaller rectangular bricks, but its highland location can't be beat when it comes to altiplano vistas. I walked down a path behind the ruins and found a present day mayan altar and a mirador of the milpas that climbed horrendously steep slopes on the other side of the valley. Then I hopped a bus to Panajachel.

Waiting for the bus an old mayan lady asked my for water, as i was holding a just openned gallon, which is kind of like a gold bar when you're hopping busses and you don't know where the next tienda is. I couldn't deny it on a blistering day so i forked it over. As she lipped the thing and chugged i noticed the skin discolorations, and told her it was hers, keep it, a gift, and went on a three hour stuck in traffic and dehydrated highway to pana.

Lago atitlan has public ferrie that go from town to town, and I took one to san pedro at sunset. Beautiful, volcanoes and the pueblos in their shadows through a late afternoon cloudy haze. At the dock I got screwed into paying for two nights in a trashy hostel by a group of tourist steerers running a racket, straight up bad news. I was tired and didn't feel like lugging my pack on the seach for lodging, and when I realized that there were nicer places for half the price and twice the security the next day, i set of to reclaim my dinero. What a high stress, agressive situation that was, but in the end i was walking off with 20Q and the guy was shouting behind me "thats my money man".

So basically the whole purpose of staying in san pedro was to relax, and on thanksgiving i finally did so. I swung in a hammock, climbed a church tower only trespassing a little, ran into some friends from chiapas that I met in antigua, and watched a basketball game.

The following day my curiousity got the best of me and I set off on a long walk to San Marcos on the other side of the lagoon. A path runs along the lake and cuts through the agricultural heartland of Lago Atitlan, coffee and maize and chiles and cows. I passed countless men at work on their land, machettes in hand and hats shadowing their faces. San Marcos is the Hippiest shit i've ever seen. No need to say more, my friends. I walked back to san Pablo and gave up the hike and took a pick up shuttle back.

The next day I woke up and got breakfast, then asked my hostel owner if there were busses going to xela. She said yes one leaves the city center at ten. It was nine fifteen. I packed up in twenty minutes flat, hiked up to the central park, and threw my pack on top of the bus. A half hour later the bus was chugging up mountain roads, engine growling and me small talking with this old lady sitting next to me and teaching me a few words of Tzutzu hil. The truth of the matter was that the bus didn't go to xela, but that in order to arrive at Casa Argentina I had to take four different busses, and would never have found it without the help of another old lady who lived nearby.

Casa Argentina is an american hostel, simply put. It was refreshing to run into so many people I could relate too, but at the same time I needed to get back out into guatemala. I looked for spanish schools on sunday and enrolled at la democracia on sunday.

La democracia is in zona 3 of xela, certainly more residential and local than the urbanized upscale zona 1. My teacher is a low twentysomethging named Yessica and we get along just fine; I must say that four hours of spanish school in a row is a draining experience, truth be told an hour was almost too much in highschool, but I do my best, and its more fun when we go for walks to the park to study, or stroll throught the market. My family is fun. Marlon and Betzebe are the parents and they work way too hard for Catholic Relief services, staying up half the night data crunching and Marlon travels to rural areas all the time. The kids are Alicia and Daniel, four and two respectively, and we have a blast when we're playing hide and go seek,(in which they hide me and then find me) or read, in which they flip the pages really fast and then cheed when we "Finnish" the book. I must admit I almost go nuts when they cry and scream for extended periods of time. Its maddening, and I can't fathom the depths of love that keep Marlon and Betsy psychologically sound.

Xela's awesome. The Minerva market is beyond description in words, its simply enormous and chaotic, a mindblowing kollaidascope of buying and selling. Street food abounds. you can meet other travelers or chit chat with Guatemalans on a park bench. Simply put the city will provide whatever you desire.

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