7 Orejas - My new pad

7 Orejas, which means seven ears is my new home for the next two weeks. It is a small hostel with colonial charm, bright colors, sun streaming through every window and accents of charm in every corner. It is about a 10 minute walk to town, so it doesn't see a lot of traffic. People that stay here are not looking for a late night party. And because it is small, I know everyone who works here, they know me by name and I get to speak Spanish often. Muy tranquillo...as in, very calm and low-key. It's a nice change after Casa Jaguar.

This is my room. They don't have singles here...only a dorm with bunks upstairs and six triples. It is costing me $6.50 a day. Because it is low season and I have a "long term" stay, I got a good deal. Everything is negotiable. The two week price was better than the month price. Awesome!

After Casa Jaguar and living with a host family, a clean bathroom is a true treat. I don't mind sharing bathrooms, but when they are dirty and gross and ... ugghhh, no thanks! This is mine. All mine. How delightful. It included towels, shampoo, soap, and hot water!

Details, details. The wooden furniture throughout the place all have this carved flower design.

Right next to my room is the little dining/sitting room, which is perfect, as I like to work on the computer and study here.

The dining room is also where I "take" breakfast." Coffee...instant (which I have an appreciation for) or tea, bread, two hard boiled eggs, and a sweet roll. Butter and marmalade if you want it. Purified water too. Crucial.

Details, details!

The hall in immaculately clean and bright. The concrete holders between each door hold a lit candle each night...

At the end of the hall at the meeting of the stairs up and down, you can enjoy a little sitting nook with Spanish books to borrow.

On the top floor you'll find the dormitory room and the rooftop cafe/lounge terrace. It's also where the kitchen is. Although I have access to the kitchen, it is a little complicated because the fridge is locked (as it holds all the booze for the cafe) and I have to be done cooking/cleaned up by 5pm, as that's when the cafe/lounge opens to the public. That's the one downside of this place. Adjustments: an early dinner with a little snack afterwards. Probably healthier...

The truth of the matter is that I greatly enjoy trying different ways of living here. I plan to leave here the morning of the 22nd and stay one night in a hostel more downtown before taking off the following morning for San Marcos La Laguna...bidding Xela adios...or perhaps ciao!

El Mercado - Market Days

El Mercado: This is a Friday like any other Friday. It is not the weekend, which is even bigger, busier, and shoulder to shoulder bargaining. I almost go knocked over waiting to pay for a papaya at the Sunday market. Luckily a local woman grabbed my hand and we all had a good laugh once I balanced myself. How sweet she was!

This is the second largest market in Xela, which is about a five minute walk from my Spanish school. We took a quick field trip to buy veggies for a family style soup we ate for lunch today.

I cannot stress enough how much I love the market. Love it! The colors, the rows and rows of fresh fruits and veggies...along with the ability to get just about anything you might need, from yoga pants to a rebuild car engine. The market it loud, large and IN CHARGE...ALWAYS with the ability to bargain!

Guatemala has a huge second hand clothes market. People dress in style. I could have a rockin' wardrobe for very little money. Unfortunately, I don't want to carry any more clothes! Truckloads come from the US. One of my teachers got a used Marmot jacket for $1.25...in the states it would go for over $100. Love it!

Oh avocados! How I love thee. There are a variety of avocados grown around Xela. The bright, shiny green ones are the smooth, buttery ones grown on the coast, which is about an hour from Xela. Then the larger, dull ones behind are grown in around the corners in colder, mountain climates. They have a more watery taste. 4 avocados for $1.25, which is 10 Quetzales.

El mercado is also a great place for people watching and interacting. Local indigenous communities come together with modern city dwellers to talk shop, food, and life.

The market stretches on and on and on. Items are delivered throughout the day in trucks, buses, bushels on peoples heads, or wheel barrels full (of peanuts).

Of course no market would be complete without the meat and butcher.

One of my personal favorites is the endless stacks of eggs, eggs and eggs. Brown, white, large, small.

El Cementerio

No words can justly express the mix of colors, feels, class differences, earth, dirt, empty bottles of booze, colors, and pure, unexplainable quiet that accompanied us through the huge cemetery in Xela. Hopefully the photos can act as puzzle pieces and give you all somewhat of a picture of the whole.

We went as three. It isn't safe to go alone. Everything happens in the cemetery. Everything.

We saw a man going for a walk just as we entered. We said Buenos Tardes, as is customary, then he went on to tell us how relaxing an afternoon walk in the cemetery is...because everyone is dead. We all got a good laugh and went on our way. Enjoy.

La Cima - The Summit

It amazed me that no one asked what the summit of Volcan Santa Maria was like! I was waiting to save it for Part 2.

So, here it is:

Wet, cool, and slightly ashy I was still a happy camper.

You have to imagine though, for a moment approaching the misty, rocky top and hearing chanting, singing, and wailing here and there. Generally only the women wailed. But, you can't see anything yet. Evangelicalism with twists of Maya at it's best!

Take a good look at the photo above. Helena and Carolina are approaching me and there is a large circle of figures to their left. That's one of the three church services that were taking place as we created our own sacred place to thank the manys, eat some food and descanso (relax).

Most of the rocks where covered with white letters of prayers or expressions of love. Both to God and to Christ and to Carlos or Juan or Maria. Cristo (Christ) was the most popular.  

Even though the active Santiaguito Volcano is around the corner, the wind picked up and I got the chills. Suddenly and forcefully. What a surprise! But, I got to enjoy my first peanut and jelly sandwich, which was a religious enough experience!

Ash fell lightly and peacefully along with light rain. Occasional bursts from Santiaguito reminded us that, despite the thick mist and clouds, there were toxic sulfuric fumes plumed into the air every half hour or so. We stayed only a half hour. People get sick up their from breathing the air. At 10,000 and some change feet, I was feeling fine.

On our hike down, the air began to oh-so-slowly clear. But it was clear enough to see the tops of one of the mighty pines...which we couldn't make out on the way up...reminded me a little of Avatar. I'm a dreamer...

Volcan Santa Maria

It is the perfectly shaped volcano in any of the blogs thus far. Santa Maria. And since it is so perfectly shaped, it means the entire hike is steep. Up, up, and up. At first I imagined hiking a volcano with scree and just hiking straight up. No, no, it wasn't like my daydreams. It was a trail with gorgeous, huge pine trees, forest, and purple flowers popping around every corner. I could have been hiking Camel's Hump in Vermont...until we got to the top. That's another story.

The hike began at 5am. Darkness still devoured Xela, and as we rode down bumpy, pot-holed filled pueblo roads to the trail head, the day slowly began to brighten.

But not by much. As it was overcast. Not only a little. A lot. So thick with mist that we were all wet. It wasn't exactly raining. There were only three students brave enough to endure the wet, insanely early departure for Santa Maria. Our awesome teacher, who is also a guide, was Miguel. Good guy. Lot's of inappropriate jokes. That's the norm here. Really. Cultural. Kind of funny. Everyone takes it to the next level. (Dave, I've met my match!)

The yellow yarn looking stuff in the trees is a plant called Pelo del Angel = Hair of an Angel.

We started the hike with about five other buses full of locals...mostly indigenous locals from surrounding pueblos. They were out for a Saturday hike with their evangelical churches. Slowly, just about every person passed us. The old women with slip on shoes. The younger women carrying babies. The only group that didn't pass us had a sick woman and a woman in heals who kept getting stuck in mud. Might I add this hike usually takes about four hours to the summit. This is normal life for locals. Who needs a rain coat when you have a towel wrapped around you? So, I just shrugged my shoulders at my lack of a raincoat and decided "if they can handle it, I can handle it." And I did.

Since it was so overcast and we were taking our sweet time, I focused on the smaller fascinations of life: Flowers and plants drenched with water droplets hung in silent motion.

As we approached the summit, the clouds got thicker. The mist doubled over. Stillness of the soupy air clung to us like fear in a mystery.

It was perhaps at this point that I begin writing Guatemalan Spirit Walkers in my head.

I thank the group I was with for making me take my time and play mentally, emotionally in this magical, enchanted forest. Gracias a Helena, Carolina, y Miguel.