Winter 2002
Jan. 12, 2002
San Antonio Palopó, Guatemala
Greetings once again from Guatemala,
Faye and I flew out of Medford, a few miles from Ashland, on Christmas
Day, to Mexico City. We weren't sure what to expect in regards to heightened
security measures. But, while the subject of security seemed to be at
the front of everyone's mind, things went smoothly.
Thanks to the mad shoe bomber who got caught a few weeks ago on board
a plane trying to light a fuse sticking out of his sneakers, we had
to remove our footwear twice during the trip for inspection. I was glad
he hadn't stuffed the explosives into his underwear.
We spent one night in Mexico City-- just long enough to get some rest,
then get a bus out. I'm sure there are some interesting places in Mexico
City, but I'm not a fan of big cities, and Mexico has grown to become
the most populous in the world. At something more than 20 million, a
fifth of Mexico's entire population lives there.
We visited three cities-- Patzcuaro, Guanajuato and San Miguel de
Allende-- which Faye had enjoyed ten years ago while traveling with
a tour group. To her dismay things had changed since that time. Still,
they were interesting and quite different from any other place I had
seen in Mexico.
Guanajuato is a very picturesque, prosperous place, built on undulating
hillsides, with serpentine streets. It was once a wealthy center of
silver mining and there are numerous examples of monumental architecture,
including three performance theaters.
Guanajuato is Ashland's sister city. Like Ashland it has a university
and a festival devoted to a playwright with no logical connection to
the place (Shakespeare in Ashland, Cervantes in Guanajuato.) Also like
Ashland it attracts wealthy tourists. We were surrounded by them, mostly
from Mexico City. (Travel tip: Avoid tourist destinations during the
holidays.)
Our next stop, San Miguel de Allende, is another upscale city. San
Miguel has been known for decades as a haven for expatriate North Americans,
retirees wanting to live the good life on a fixed income and artists
(or, more likely, amateurs with artistic aspirations. In one art supply
store we were in I heard a middle-aged woman with a Texas accent ask
the clerk "Do y'all have any nude, you know, skin-colored paint?"
I suspect she meant the color of her skin, not his.)
As far as the cost of living goes, San Miguel is no longer a good place
to be on a fixed income, or on a tight travel budget. The atmosphere,
prices and artistic pretensions reminded us a lot of Santa Fe, New Mexico.
We returned to Mexico City ten days after we arrived. Faye flew back
home to attend winter-session classes, and I spent the next 36 hours
riding on buses, and waiting in bus terminals, on my way to Guatemala.
Mexican first-class buses are quite nice. They are built for comfort
by companies such as Mercedes-Benz and Volvo. From Mexico City to the
border was a 14-hour ride. Aside from being a bus instead of a bed,
it wasn't a bad place to spend the night.
Guatemalan buses, of course, are another story. They are mostly old
school buses. There is an old joke here: How many people fit on a Guatemalan
bus. Answer: Five more. I thought of that one again on one of the buses
I was on. About 40 more people got on after that joke stopped being
funny.
Evidently it is illegal for passengers to stand up in the aisle. There
are police cars parked a long the road every so often. When a crowded
bus approaches one the attendant (who collects fares, handles baggage,
etc) shouts at everybody to get down. On the bus I was on that happened,
but nobody got down because there was no room for them to bend their
knees. So everyone standing just sort of bowed their head. I thought
it was cute that they at least pretended to duck.
And, I suppose, the police pretended that they were keeping a close
eye on the crowded bus situation. It will be quite a day here when the
police throw fifty people off a bus because they don't have a place
to sit.
I arrived in Panajachel tired and sore. As I grow older I seem to
be facing the twin problems of having less strength and worse memory.
This kind of travel takes more out of me than it used to, but I don't
remember that until it is too late.
Still, I was glad to be back in familiar territory. Panajachel is
only a few miles from the Mayan village of San Antonio, where my four
godchildren and their family live, and where Faye and I spend most of
our time when we're in Guatemala. But I decided to stay in Pana for
the night to get some rest and take advantage of the good restaurants
there. After a day and a half of buses and bus stop snack food I wanted
a good bed and some decent food. I knew I couldn't look forward to either
of those in San Antonio.
When I arrived in the village the next day I was met with the usual
fanfare-- my godchildren competing to carry my luggage and greetings
from people with a firm grasp of the obvious-- "You've arrived!"
followed quickly by "You're alone!"
It has been several years since I've been here without Faye. It seems
to come as quite a surprise that I would come alone. To the people here
being alone is unusual, unnatural and undesirable. They squeeze together
like sardines on buses, crowd into markets in a way that defies the
laws of physics, build their little homes so close together you can
almost hear your neighbors breathe and at night huddle in bed together
like puppies. Furthermore, one of the more pejorative things that can
be said of a person here is that they live alone. The implication is
that nobody wants anything to do with them.
So, me being here alone has been quite a cause of concern. Since I've
arrived I've had very little time to myself. Everyone seems to be going
out of their way to make sure I always have company. Being here without
Faye certainly has its drawbacks, but being lonely isn't one of them.
Little has changed in the village since last year. There is a small
recycling station that no one seems to know how to use. They are still
getting used to the trash can someone put outside the old Catholic church
last year. Those who are using the recycling station evidently think
it is just a bigger trash can, and throw stuff into it without regard
to whether it is "Plastic," "Paper" or "Glass."
The mayor, who can't run again because of term limits, is building
himself a monumental three-story house that is an affront to the thousands
of very poor villagers who elected him. Everyone I've talked to about
it thinks he is using public money to build it, but that's just the
way things are.
The churches are keeping their music down to reasonable levels, so
far. And the packs of dogs who used to keep us awake at night (after
the churches shut off their loudspeakers) have disappeared under mysterious
circumstances. The few dogs that remain seem well behaved, as if they
understand the conditions of their survival.
Also, I am happy to report that Don Pablo's old Mitsubishi minivan
has not moved from where I parked it last year. I don't think it is
going anywhere anytime soon. Today Don Pablo (grandfather of my godchildren)
was bemoaning how much it cost to get the thing licensed. Of course
not having it (or me) licensed didn't stop him from wanting me to take
him and half his family on a road trip in it last year.
You may recall my account of the trip that started out full of unfounded
optimism and ended with us limping back home the next morning after
Don Pablo and his family had to spend the night in the Mitsubishi, huddled
together like very cold puppies.
I don't think we'll risk repeating that adventure this year. But I
did bring my driver's license this time, just in case.
I've been in Guatemala a week now. This year I'll only be here a little
more than a month, but I'm sure I can find something to write about
another time or two. Something always happens....
Feb. 8, 2002
San Antonio Palopó, Guatemala
The story goes that Sir Isaac Newton discovered the law of gravity
when an apple tree he was sitting under provided him with both food
for thought and something to munch on. I don't know what Albert Einstein
was doing when he discovered that time is relative, but if he had been
hanging out in a dusty Guatemalan village he would have soon concluded
that while some days pass slowly, others seem to last forever.
My last report a few weeks ago ended with the overly optimistic statement
that something always happens here. Since then precious little worth
writing about has happened. Most days have blended together with little
to differentiate them.
The kids returned to school the middle of January. Angelina, the oldest
of my godchildren, left the village to go to school in Xela, Guatemala's
second largest city, where her older brother, Rolando, has been the
past couple of years.
The school in the village goes to the sixth grade, but Angelina failed
fifth grade last year and didn't want to return to a teacher she didn't
like much in the first place. The school here is pretty pathetic and
the teachers themselves are poorly educated. The classes are overcrowded
and the kids are high-spirited. It is a chaotic situation and I think
it would strain any teacher's abilities to get much done. Most of the
assignments I've seen seem to be busy work, simple but time consuming.
The fact that the school is so crowded is itself a positive indication
that most children here are attending classes. Another school is being
built at the other end of the village which should help if teachers
can be found.
Angelina has come back to San Antonio on weekends and seems much happier
with her new school. Not as noisy for one thing, she says.
By next year the whole family may be living in Xela instead of the
village. They've talked about it for a couple of years, but now with
Angelina there too there is more reason to move. Still, it is a big
step.
In addition to the availability of better schooling for the kids, Felix
and Carmen, the parents, will have more opportunities to make a better
living. They are both weavers by trade, but more and more have become
merchants, selling goods made by others. In San Antonio the supply for
woven goods far exceeds the demand of visiting tourists and wholesale
agents.
It would be easy to see their move to the city as part of an unfortunate
migration away from the simple, traditional lifestyle of the village
to the unknown challenges and dangers of an urban environment. But village
life in Guatemala is far from simple, and certainly is not idyllic.
Last winter Carmen suffered several months from a mystery ailment. A
Guatemalan doctor said she was having a nervous breakdown. I was skeptical
of that diagnosis, but he may have been right. Life in the village is
quite stressful. For most simply surviving is a challenge, but an old
one.
Modern developments have brought other challenges. For example, electricity
is for the most part a good thing. But it has enabled the churches to
broadcast amplified music and sermons from their rooftops (as I've mentioned
a time or two before). It isn't as bad as it used to be, but still it
is pretty bad. One of those churches is right next door to Felix and
Carmen's house and the volume from that distance is enough to loosen
one's teeth. I think a nervous breakdown is a reasonable reaction.
City life will certainly be a major change for the family, but I think
they'll do just fine. And I'm very happy the kids will have better educational
opportunities, something their parents as well consider very important.
Xela is pretty decent, as cities go. A few years ago Faye and I spent
a month there attending a Spanish language school, and enjoyed the city.
It has long been known in Guatemala for its educational and cultural
institutions.
Alva, Carmen's 19-year-old sister has been taking law classes there
at San Carlos University. She is a very good student and is just a couple
years short of getting her Master's. I'm not sure the world needs another
lawyer, but it is a tremendous achievement for a girl from this little
Mayan village.
A few weeks ago I went to Xela with her by bus. On the way she taught
me a few legal terms from one of her classes, such as "ultrajar"
(to insult or defame), "menospreciar" (to undervalue) and
"cohechar" (to bribe). These aren't words I'm likely to use
in everyday conversations, but I like to add to my vocabulary whenever
possible.
Later, on another leg of the trip, we were not lucky enough to get
a seat. At one point those of us standing did the ducking down thing
as we passed a police checkpoint. I asked Alva if, indeed, it was illegal
for bus passengers to stand. She said yes, it was. I asked her whether
the police ever did anything about it and she said sometimes the police
did stop overcrowded buses "What happens then?" I asked her.
Her face lit up, delighted she could use one of the new words she had
taught me. "You bribe them!" she said.
That's about it for this year. I will be leaving Guatemala in a couple
of days and plan to spend a week or so on a Mexican beach trying to
soak up enough sun and warmth to last me through the rest of the winter
in Ashland. Faye has promised me a warm welcome.
Next year Faye and I plan to travel to some new territory. Until then..........
Jim
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