Belize Slow Time

It's been a while and just a few things have happened.

I am sitting in my new five star residence with the most awesome family I
can think of...The Simbanas en Honduras. I have been provided the comfort of
an actual shower without mosquitos or sulfur, an air mattress that has
outlasted and outdone a regular bed in my Guatemalan life, and the feel of
this family who has taken me under their little wing. They have fattened me
up, talked at length about the graduation party that pepe wants to throw me
when they return, and are all around excited about my life, my future, and
just me. And that feels pretty darn good to have people in full support
surrounding you...smiles are definitely an understatement. My heart feels
warm and blessed to know these amazing people.

But the adventure to get here is worth a little story at least. I have a
taken a few sideturns and picked up another on this ride around Central
America.

I will start with Tikal and the magical Mayan Ruins! I found my way to Tikal
where the monkeys howled as I slept on the hard ground of a tent
(appearantly they provide you the tent but not the goods that one might
normally include with the tent...ie sleeping gear). Needless to say an
Aussie and I decided to go halfers and brave the few hours before the 4:30am
sunrise tour was to begin. With flashlights in hands we worked our way up to
the top of the pyramids and sat in silence for an hour as the noises of the
jungle took over (monkeys, parrots, other bird things) and the mist worked
its way out of the trees. The sense of the jungle around you with the mayan
pyramids peering over the mist made the journey all the while, but the
sunrise (which is in the name of the tour) was not the spectacular
red/orange as the dream goes. In fact, there was no sunrise. But you take
what you can.

After the little sleep and early *sunrise* tour, I headed to Belize, the
world of English and the world of bigger dollar signs. I met my first Creole
speaking friend on the chicken bus which does not move anywhere near the
speed of Guatemalan Chicken Buses. In fact, the whole world seems to work
with the "be slow" catch phrase. I tried to work some Creole lessons but
soon learned I had no idea what he was saying anyway. So I just worked my
way to Cay Caulker...the beautiful oasis island off Belize City.

Belize brought a whole new world to chillin out. In fact there is not much
more to do here than to chill. The heat keeps you either in the warm
torquise waters or in the shade eating fresh fruit and talking to the most
friendly locals you will ever meet. Everyone says hello, they smile, and
they know how to work you into a conversation. They can't even be bothered
to try and sell you something or flirt with you...no...the world just works
off of being slow.

I was introduced to Wish Willy only by him walking straight up to me and
saying he needed help with the fish he just caught. Before I knew it, my
hands were dirty and wrist deep in plaintain mush as I worked in some curry.
Next thing I was carrying a pot of coconut fish plantain something or other
to the dock to feed friends and appearantly me. I can't say that happens
everyday in the states for me, but it sure started me out well on this
island.

I met Bianca a day later on the dock with rum punch in hand. Our little
purple cabanas on the south shore only brought the perfect light to the
woman who has only seen the four concrete walls and computer world for the
last few months. We worked our way over the entire 3 mile island to the
north end to watch sunset and drink the only beer made in Belize...Belikin.
Wish Willy, the belizean rastafari man with the dreads cooked Bianca and I
up a shrimp meal for dinner and before we knew it we were stumbling home at
the ripe hour of 9pm happy and drunk with the stars lighting our way along
the shoreline.

The next day was snorkeling adventure which turned out to be more adventure
than we had asked. Our first attempt came very unrecommended by Wish Willy
himself and turned out to be more sleezy and the right recommendation...very
unrecommendable... so we dropped out and walked to the Rasta Boat...the man
who was considered to be the original creator for all these tours.
Unfortunately, at 10 in the morning, the man...the jefe...was already too
drunk to take his boat out. Oh the life of Belize!

However our third attempt got us out on a boat with Emir and our 8 year old
Ozzie...not related to Osborne but does play the guitar. Bianca and I with
snorkel gear on jumped into the serene glass clear waters with sting ray
petting our feet and nurse sharks jetting past our sides. My fears only
faded because Ozzie went in first and I could not let an 8 year old stand me
up. I have never felt the velvety skin of a sting ray and our captain felt
the need to pick them up and kiss them. I have to say that my heart was
still beating faster than normal to have 30 of them in the same water as me.

Then came the adventure ride to Honduras. We woke up and snorkeled right
along the shore only to see the rare spotted eagle ray, another sting ray,
nurse sharks, and some ugly chicken fish that looked like someone has stuck
a froglegs on a chicken. With Bianca's little time off we opted for, what we
thought, was the quick and easy route to Honduras..via plane. Our attempt to
find the one airline that flies to San Pedro Sula, Honduras was not that
successful being that the island has one travel agency and had no idea what
we were talking about. They did not exist in the phone book either. But an
American finally found an old phone number that had only 6 digits, decided
to add a 2 somewhere in the middle and miraculously it worked. The office,
in the heavy belize accent, just told me to come to the airport.

We arrived, but the airlines did not appear to make any of the booth titles.
Even asking, the peole said it no longer existed until we realized they were
just taking the shit out of us. With two hand written tickets in our hands
and after paying cash only, we arrived at the departure gate which required
another $30 just to leave the country. And when 3pm came with no airplane in
sight, I was beginning to wonder if these tickets were to anywhere at all.
Asking only brought anxiety because nobody seemed to even know if Atlantic
Airlines even existed.

1/2 an hour later, a man walks through a door, looks at both of us, and says
"San Pedro Sula?" Our relief must have shown because he smiled his belizean
smile and said "don't worry, we had to wait for another passenger". The
propellor plane had 5 of us with the 2 pilots practically sitting in our
laps. Bianca's propellor started first, but when I looked at my side with
the rust wearing well, I began to wonder if any of this was a good idea at
all, especially since it wasn't even spinning. We laughed trying to blow on
it to help it move, and finally we were waving back and forth in the air
towards the simbanas. An hour later, at the airport, having to use the
blonde hair in full force for a free phone call, I was talking to Emily.

And here we are!

I am excited to see everyone again! I love the adventure, but the body is
getting tired, fat, lazy....you know...all the things it needed. My mind is
feeling more rested, and this last week will be loved with beach to wash the
rest of it away.

Buena Vista Social Club

It is 11pm. I decide to grab a botella of coca cola and sit on the sidewalk
in front of Cafe No Se. An older man with white hair and a beautiful smile
squats next to me. I smell his sweet cologne that reminds me of Grandpa
Williams. He tells me of life in Antigua, Guatemala and of his children that
are sprinkled around the world. His hands dance while he talks to me and he
opens up his world almost as though he has just hired me as his counselor
for the next 30 minutes. I can´t believe that this man, a member of Buena
Vista Social Club, is sitting eye level with me on a sidewalk and talking
with me. I smile at his beauty, at his Cuban Spanish, and his famous world
and yet how simple he is.

Earlier I dined with the Buena Vista Social Club. Their music filled the
small mysterious restaurant as I feasted on an exquisite meal of glazed
pork. I sat in complete amazement as the history of Cuban life came seeping
out of the fingers of these beautiful men whose fathers as well as
themselves began with the original Buena Vista Social Club. And I was 10
feet away from them smiling in ecstasy with my body following the rhythm of
the drums, the music of the piano and trumpet.

As the music ceased. I walked straight up to the bongo player, the singer,
the man! I thanked him, kissed him, hugged him...my spirit overwhelmed by
the cuban energy! These old men are amazing and their story is held through
their music.

I am a lucky woman

Semuc Champey......

I have now left Antigua and stayed in a tree house in the jungle of
Guatemala near the fascinating waterfalls of Semuc Champey. This morning I
awoke looking through the planks of wood that created my room out to the
world of crickets, roosters, and people beginning their day. Yesterday I
swam in the many pools diving into deep torquise lagoons from the waterfalls
above. I even followed a guatemalan climbing down one of the waterfalls
using rock walls to balance myself. The world below the waterfall opened up
into a beautiful cave that dripped water onto my back and the powerful river
whisked down below!

Lake Atitlan

I plunge into the water and underneath the world is silent. My head comes to
the top and I take a breath, the water is cold but the sun immediately warms
me up. I look away from the dock that I just jumped from and see the men in
wooden Kaoks fishing next to me. The other side of the lake is overtowered
with volcanoes, and I look at their beauty, their strength...and smile. I
put my head underwater but don´t hear anything. It is silent. The world is
so peaceful.
Last night I ducked through a tiny hole into the Mayan sauna. The stone
walls and small space heated with a wood stove as we splash fresh water on
it and watch the steam rise making the air feel thick and hot as I try and
breath in. The toxins feel like they are dripping off of my body and then I
am handed a bowl of salt to spread on my body. I take the bowl and feel the
coarseness of the salt against my skin. We stay in until our bodies can
handle no more, and I step out to the cold shower outside. Everything here
is made simple and natural. I wash the salt off and climb up to my loft in
the straw thatched bungalow....$5-night to stay in this paradise. The food
is all from the garden, organic, vegetarian and so tasty I feel like I am
tasting the most fresh piece of earth ever. Yesterday I was provided a
hearty bowl of tomato soup, each bite the best taste I have ever encountered
in my life. You could only want more.
I have been removed from the 3rd world and dropped into the little village
of heaven. Yesterday I received a massage from a costa rican that was only
allowed to be completed when he felt he had covered everything...in other
words clocks do not exist in this world. Today, I woke up and with my
pajamas headed over to the thatched roof circel where we sat on thatched
mats and did yoga for 2 hours with our israelian instructor. A candle was
lit in the middle of our circle with incense to add to the flavor of the
birds chirping around us and sun splashing on the gardens that surrounded
us. The ultimate ygoa experience.
I have experienced the ultimate retreat....a must...on the list of things to
do in life.

Antigua and Semana Santa

I have never been the religious type. Some would say I have that hippy like
faith...we just believe that every religion is ok....let´s all just be
one...peace!

But Semana Santa in Antigua, Guatemala is one way to install faith in
anyone. This whole week has been a re-enactment of Jesus Christ´s
life-death-resurrection. Every church has their own huge display of what
appearantly happened that day, and the week has been built up to Good Friday
and his death. The entire town was filled with thousands of people who
flocked in from everywhere to experience the massive processions.

5am on Friday morning I opened my eyes and walked down to the La Merced
Church, one of 14 churches in this small town. Every street had people
frantically trying to finish their Alfombres which are massive arts of work
created in sawdust in the middle of the streets. People spend two day dying
the sawdust in all different colors and created pictures that are
intricately designed. I walked around watching as generators gave them
enough light to continue to work.

At 6am, the most impressive procession all week began. The roman soldiers on
horses rode around the town, announcing different things as it might have
happened back during the time of Jesus. Then, an enormous replica of Jesus
carrying a cross with 80-100 people having to carry the scene somberly
walked, slowly, down the streets and through the intricately detailed
alfombres. I have yet to understand the meaning of putting so much work into
an art that is destroyed by the people who carry Jesus. But, it is a
tradition that has been here many many years.

They walked for 6 hours through the streets of Antigua until they came to
the Center. There was a huge ceremony, a reenactment of his crucification,
and a funeral with his death at 3pm. Everyone changed from purple robes to
black and Jesus wore a red robe. They continued down the streets with his
coffin now with incense ahead cleansing the air that he passed. These
processions were unbelievable, powerful, and mixed with the outside world
celebrating selling small gadgets, ice cream, and children laughing. The two
were almost an oxymoron.

At 7pm we found a street, the walls filled with candles. The new alfombres
with candles and angels were the only light. The largest procession came in
slowly from a town outside of Antigua and it was by far the most beautiful
procession all week. It had more than 150 people carrying at once, with the
same steps, for 6 hours....a scene with Mary holding Jesus and the angels.
The scene was powerful and emotional for many. It is understandable as to
why this is the best place to come to see Semana Santa here.

The difficulty with all of this for me is to see a religion that was forced
into the worlds of so many people are now living it in pure faith. Many
Mayans in the time were not allowed to practice their previous religion and
were forced into Christianity. I have a confusing time seeing this
now...knowing that it was not a choice at one time. Now of course it is a
choice. I can´t say that either religion is wrong or right especially since
I come from a hippy faith. But it is confusing and beautiful at the same
time!

I know that much of my extended family has a strong faith in this week. I
felt I needed to share this time with them because it is something that I
know you would have enjoyed experiencing and understand its power more than
I do. I am excited to learn more about this time, and have a friend who is
catching me up on the story of Jesus Christ and her understanding of the
bible and its words. It is all quite fascinating to me to learn.

Happy Easter.

Guatemala Santa Maria

My eyes opened at 4 am but I didn´t even have to be up until 5. I was trying
to decide the ultimate trekking outfit which turned to be the laugh of the
group. My fashion wear consisted of my green 3/4 pants, white socks and
purple sandels. What do you think of them combinations? I met the dream
team- Ryan (NM), Helen (WVa), Kathy (Detroit), and Rachel (Hawaii) with the
competing team of 5 from Holland. We thought for sure we were creamed
because those manly women can usually kick some serious ass. So the game
began.

We gathered into the microbus and through the darkness and fog could not
tell what we were in for. We walked a ¨path¨the followed fields and 5
minutes in the Holland crowd wanted to break for bread. Well Team America
with our powerful impatient ways felt the need to break away even refusing
the request from the two guides to keep the group as one. That´s just not
how Americans play. So off we went....taking one of the guides and leaving
the others to their own destiny.

Along the path we crossed a group of Mayan women climbing at the same rate
as us. The one exception was the grandmother had no shoes, and her daughter
was climbing in heels. My two new heroes in my life. This was no nature path
with designated signs and rails to help the weak. This trek was a straight
way to heavan with rock climbing that made you wonder what it would be like
to get down. The trek created new quads I have never felt and moves I can
never recreate.

But the views were beautiful. At times the fog would clear and the city
below would appear through the trees. And the end....oh that end....every
minute felt like an hour and the top seemed to be the same distance each
time you looked up. An older man with his 10 year old kid, both seeming to
laugh their way up, were ahead. As the group took their final break, I
decided to follow the two and get the end over with. I had finally made it.
The 3 hours and 19 minutes were the best stairmaster experience I have ever
encountered.

As I peered over the edge, tents were set up with people who slept the night
before. The wind above and the cloud cover set a chill that made shelter in
the rocks a more comfortable experience. Two men were cooking in another
groove and offered us cafe which we took up with no hesitation...not even
questioning if the water was potable, but I live to tell the story so
everything must be alright.

2 hours we sat with the fog drifting in and out giving us glimpses of the
height we had accomplished. Finaly the dutch found the top. America had
conquered the hill!

I am now in Antigua, Guatemala to soak up the entire week of Semana Santa.
Everyday is filled with a day in the life of Christ. There are 40,000 people
trekking in for Good Friday to watch the massive processions and live the
story! I am curious....there is a lot of passion here!

Guatemala Salsa and Soccer

My eyes are so tired today. I keep thinking that I will be leaving this
place...Xela, Guatemala...but the people are almost too good and I keep
staying for ¨just one more day¨.

I played soccer yesterday. There were only two girls and I ended being on
the winning team all 3 games. My quads have never hurts as bad as they do
now, and my ribs are sore just from trying to get a breath in. I am so in
shape...it hurts! What hurts more is my ass on the back of a bike getting a
ride back because I hurt so much and the cobbled streets slam the seat on my
buttocks. I have a pain in my ass now!

As we walked back to the park, they had the most bazaar almost weirded me
out procession. These people dressed as Klu Klux Klan type with different
colors and all the head pieces with the cut out eyes....drunk from receiving
free beer at the bars tranced down the streets as thousands came to watch
them. American flags with big x marks in them...anti America, anti
Bush...This group belongs to University where they go around to stores and
demand 2000 Quetzals. If the business does not pay then they tar their
buildling with black paint like material. The money, I think originally was
supposed to be for the poor but now it´s just pocketed. But the crazy thing
is that they are allowed to do this! No one ever gets arrested. McDonalds
got painted black one year because they refused to pay! I am so not in
America! It made me go for a beer!

Last night, I met a guy from Albuqerque New Mexico! What are the odds. A
Tijeras boy at that! And that gringo can tear up Salsa dancing like I have
never experienced. We went, again, to KokoLocos the only place where Salsa
dancing seems to occur in this town. No one was on the dance floor...but who
started the party up...the Nuevo Mexicano. Ryan threw my ass around the
floor twirling me like I knew what I was doing! I think we may have looked
like a couple kick ass salsa queens. People were confused by our white-ness
I am sure. But, then the dance floor was loaded....and we still kicked butt
thanks to Ryan´s man moves. He had me going under him twirling around his
back. I just can´t explain what happened to me, but me and my purple sandles
were a flying. After that I could not stop dancing and I took up any offer
no matter if they were 4foot tall or not! I just wanted to dance!

After that I could not pass up the hot springs again today. My body feels
like I laid down in the cobbled streets and just let a semi run over my legs
and ribs. I´m a frickin mess! So I followed a couple of people going to
Fuentes Georginas and soaked my body in the volcanic hot springs for hours
asking the mountain gods to please just take the pain away.

I´ve decided to stay for the futbol game tonight and maybe hike the volcano
Santa Maria tomorrow with a really awesome group of people- Rachel from
Hawaii, Ryan from Borque ville, Kathy from Detroit, and Helen from West
Virginia! How can you pass up a group like that?

I am starting to really enjoy my stay in this Mayan land. There is something
beautiful amongst the polllution and trash that just soaks people in and
they can´t help but stay one more day longer. If I make it back from the
volcano I go to Antigua. Otherwise, I just stay here another night! Go
figure. I love a schedule that takes a days notice to change if I so desire.
That is how we should be living the life. Not fitting my vacation time in a
year in advance! I don´t know how I´m going to deal with this residency
business.

Guatemala

I have never had a man run after me yelling ¨Take it EASY!¨ over and over
while trying to grab my foot as I make it onto the bus. I almost slapped the
son of a bitch I was so pissed...but I held on to my womanhood and just told
him to piss off. That was my introduction to the town of Reu (Rayoo) that my
6 foot 5 Swedish man and I journeyed to today. The journey started with the
usual Guatamelan time with the bus finally leaving after we had waited 45
minutes for them to call as many people as they could on (salary is of
course by person not by the hour). But as we rolled out I thought well at
least this trip is only an hour....two and a half hours later we were still
rolling through dirt roads bouncing out of our seats on the decked out
school buses otherwise named chicken bus even in espanol. Reu is closer to
the beach which means beautiful humid air...and rain galore. Once we got
there, we had a fancy shamncy meal spending a whopping $5 each on a meal.
Then turned to head back when we encountered a bus full of kids and a team
of soccer players running in front chanting their song. As soon as the bus
got close...they started screaming and waving at us because we were and are
appearantly the only white people around...with Jonathon's height putting
all of the people in awe. They went wild and he was the star of the town for
about ten seconds. He stood in the middle of the road stunned and I had to
finally pull him out of the street so that the tripod taxies could get by.
Oh...that was the journey to remember. Of course we found out that the
reason it took so long was because the tornado in october had washed out all
the roads. Que lastima

Guatemala The Rooster

The rooster is his doing his routine thing as the sun makes it's way over
the the mountains, and my eyes decide to open before my timex watch can beep
me into reality. I know I am back in latin america with the smell of
pollution seeping into my nose, the honking hellos, lovely whistles from the
15 year old boys trying to make the "rubia" look at them and of course
poverty that stares you in the face everywhere you turn whether it be the
shattered building with snot filled babies running around in torn underwear
or the ladies carrying loads I would not even attempt to drag across the
street to sell. Why I keep coming back to these dirty filled places, I don't
understand becuase it fills my heart with sadness to see the hardships, the
reality. But the rooster, the food, the simplicity of life bring me back to
the reason why I choose such places
Xela. I can't say it's a beautiful place. The streets are worn and ones that
were cobblestone are now just another excuse to trip on something. It is
dirty with cars trying to run you over on the little streets, the buildings
are not in the best of shape, and it is a city. But, there is a central park
with some descent trees and a place for everyone to commune. It's not bad. I
was not impressed initially because as you know I am a small town lover with
quaint areas and character, but I am starting to find this place
interesting.
My maestra spoke at length about the political issues of Guatemala
espeically the government and womens' rights. I am fascinated with the
information, and even though I cannot read or write worth a damn....I can
understand everything she is telling me.

Guatemala Fuentes Georginas

My hair is still whiplashed from the ever so safe bed of the truck I just
rode in from the most beautiful volcano and hot springs. We were the only
ones there with the entire pool the length of a regular swimming pool all
heated from the volcano. A natural spring! I forgot a towel which just meant
that I would have to drip dry while drinking a Gallo beer (which I have a
picture for you to see but realized that I forgot the connection to add to
the computer so as to email the pictures!)
As the fog started to roll in over the tree tops and into our little crater
of a dream, I waited patiently for the nonexistent monkeys to start coming
out of the woodworks...still waiting. It was magnificent. The water becomes
so hot near the mountainous wall that you could almost cook pasta in it.

It has been only two days but am amazed at the world I have already seen.

More about my Maestra.
Her name is Ingrid. She has been the most amazing influence and has already
opened me up to a world I was so naive about. She of course does this
between our present tense verbs using Yo, Tu, El, Nosotros, Ellos, etc. I
contruct a sentence..."Si, Yo quiero ir a la escuela". and while I write she
continues a story whether it be the amount of children that are left in the
streets of Guatemala because the government accept abortion, or the machismo
influence where women have no rights in Guatemala, or the government and
corruptions. I soak it up like a sponge returning words of the US
government. She asks me what makes me happy, what makes Amy sad, What are my
thoughts on our government...and as I reply she corrects the many words I
make up so that one day I can speak with confidence that I am using
everything correctly.

La Clinica
Today, she rode with me to a medical clinic outside of Xela. There I met one
canadian, a floridan, two minnesotans, and a texan...all volunteering time
to provide health care to mayan community. They begged me to stay, observe,
maybe take my own room and prescribe medication (not sure of my confidence
level with that...but hell, how else you gonna learn). I've decided that
next week I will travel with them to a place outside of Chichi where they
will be doing surgery all week (my curiousity has gotten me how the heck
they perform surgery in Guatemala). And of course will assist in any little
way I can. I'll tell more when I actually do the stuff.
But Ingrid has provided me the opportunity to expand my wings and test the
waters of learning. Tomorrow we will attend a conference about the politcal
situation of Guatemala. I don't even attend conferences about the US history
or our current situation, and here this guatemalan who stands 4ft 5 inches
is empowering me with an education opportunity I cannot refuse. My host
mother also is 4 ft 5 inches and demands that we pray before meals and not
say "estoy llena" after a meal because the proper term is "estoy
satisfecha"....so of course I say the nonproper term to tease her and she
gets a laugh out of it all the time. She is a fabulous cook. Today was curry
with garlic rice and a vegetable stew! YES...I am eating and I am eating
well.

The tell me that I am a Guatemateca, because I can speak but that is it. So
there you have it!