we had an american couple last week who took light packing to a whole other place. they wore the same clothes everyday. appartently they stank beyond stinking. more pronounced against the backdrops of guatemalens who bathe theree times a day in the cooler season…klike now…and 6 or 7 times a day in the real heat.
i never really noticed. partially because i didn´t spent too much time talking with them standing still and partially because of my own paranoia about how i smell. don´t get me wrong -i bathe- despikte the ice cold water thqat errupts from our shower. i plop myself in every morning-whoo away the waiting mosquitos and wash myself.
as for clothes, the guatemalens have made hand washing as easy as it can be with concrete sinks designed with washboard bottoms just for that reason…wo washing is easy. i´ve washed no less than 3 times. partially becasue the constant rain and humidity leave everything with a fine layer of moisture and a slighly souring smell amost imperceptible at firt -but seems to intensify as days pass.
for my part i didn´t smell them becaue of paranoia, ¨what if i smell¨so i sniff all day but i´m always sniffing me. who has time to sniff anyone else? and this morning rising from our tree hosue my sniffing was not in vain.
but let me back up.
we, jackie and i, left for livingston friday. we made it to rio duce where we finallydecided on a plcae to stay. a boatride through the lake and overgrown rivulets and we were in a planked and wooded strucutre with people milling around food.
our lodging was a 9-years-old´s dream (or the dream of a 29-years-old who never got one) a tree house-or rather, a house made out of trees and banan leaes. nestled in the middle of the swampy outlying of the lake surrounded by damp trees and climbing vines. it was perfect and less than $10 a night.
good sleep was had and upon waking and -as i said -smelling myself- i headed across the wood planks that line the routes to the showers, kitchen and bar.
as usual, no paper allowed in the toilets, but this time the note posted on the door read: DO NOT PUT ANYTHING IN THE TOILET THAT YOU DID NOT EAT FIRST. i chuckled as i chuckled everytime i saw it, and then headed for my usual cold shower armed with soap and razor. headed for the beach i decided the wooly mamoth look was a bit much -even for me.
bathed, shaved clothed, i now sit with a cat in my lap (i didn´t invite her she made herself comforable) and wait for ackie to rouse so we can head to livingston.
it is so strange to go from being the only black face…fuzzy hair and my tone of skin to being still the only fuzzy hair and my tone of skin but in the midst of folks that back home i would consider ¨black like me¨and for the most part would consider me the same. here, the garifuna are completely different from the maya and the ladinos and…well…me. i´m still this öther¨.
but in some ways it feels like something more familiar and at the same time not. i´m still a tourist here and get asked every five steps if i want my hair braided or if i want to talk a tour.
and i still get, ¨hey sexy¨as i walk down the street. i´m not sure if they know any more english than that but…
tonight we´re going dancing. my two reasons for coming to the caribbean revolve around…come on if you know me you can guess the first…food…and the other is to dance. go figure that i would be searching out dance. but tonight is a huge party and i plan to shake my 30 year old booty ´til i can´t stand anymore. then maybe some beach time tomorrow and then heading back to san andres for my final days of class.
i have a whole slew of other things to share but they may have to wait until i get to flores and the internet isn´t so expensive and i have more time on my hands.
it is the rainy season here. lest the firt two weeks fooled me, the sky is mourning for some unknown thing…or maybe rejoicing in that soul wrenching way the human body takes liberties with on rare occasions. either way, the sky opened up this afternoon and poured out all she had onto the lake and surrounding areas.
it looked like a gray wall inching closer and closer. and then suddenly it was here. pounding on the tin roof with such force that it was almost starteling.
but for me it is neither scarey or distracting. it is sleep worthy.
some of the best sleep i´ve had in my life is under the thundering lullaby of rain meeting tin roof. in south africa it was my favorite sleep. it meant the summer days were slightly cooler and the night cocooned me in the constant sound of the earth replenishing herslef.
of course, the two hour nap i took today will take its vengance on me tonight when i´m trying to sleep. and with no book to entertain me it may be a long night. all the more because i am excited about my trip to livingston and rio dulce this weekend.
yesterday i learned a little punta rock and watched some traditional moves. this weekend i hope to go dancing and shake my groove thing garifuna style.
more than i thought about although i don´t know why. when you visit ruins all there really is to do is walk and look and talk and walk some more. and that´s what i did today. tikal…the great mayan ruins. and they are impressive…
this morning we set out at 5am, the sun still slumbering under the lake. and even when she roused herself, she was cloaked in a gray robe of clouds-to shy to show the glory of her rising.
on the premises of the park there was the usual…one price for locals Q15 another for tourists Q50 and an attempt to sell maps and later breakfast. instead we broke out at a healthy pace. me, my friend jackie and a new guy…nick…german and in the same hostel for the night.
i dubbed him mapmaster as he a)had a map b)had a preference on where to start and c)seemed to be on some sort of mayan mission during his travels. it worked out well…we saw a lot. that early in the morning there aren´t many tourists. we had the run of the place for the most part. we took pictures of gray stone with sprouts of green and brown poking through after so many years in hiding.
we climbed crumbling stairs at staggering inclines and lounged at the foot of god with dragonflies buzzing our heads and howler monkeys earning their names with lionlike roars in the distance.
down one pyramid and up another temple…this time the incline of stairs as close to 90degrees as i´ve ever seen so high up. it was like climbing ladders one after another. and then it was like sitting on the empire state building with nothing but certain death below you if you took a wrong step.
phenomenal.
so green. so gray. so ancient.
and then came the tourists.
by the time they arrived we had been at it for hours. taking for granted we were the few who ventured out on a saturday. but no…as if some magical bus pulled up to temple number 4…they appeared.
and then it was like waiting in line at an amusement park. people joking and snacking and climbing slowly. we followed suit…only to find that the final peak was anticlimactic despite its appearance from afar.
so we filed down, wound the long way to the bus falling upon lesser known treasures with no company to hinder our way.
it occurs to me that i don’t always know the difference.
for instance. last weekend when i was in flores i didn’t stay in the hostel partly because i didn’t want to be around tourists. not that i am against tourists, i just don’t want to be associated with them exclusively. i always feel a little guilty when i ‘m in a country and hanging out with people who aren’t from that country. which is partially silly since i wouldn’t feel guilty about hanging around with people who aren’t american in america.
even so…
instead i stayed by myself in a hotel and was a little lonely. on the flip side i made friends with a local guy who makes jewlery and was really patient as i struggled through spanish with him all day long.
i know full well i wouldn’t have met him, or at least spent that kind of time talking about family and culture and church and all sorts of things if i was with other people who spoke english. it is just easier.
at the same time, it is interesting to speak with other tourists not just because they have good travel information, but because it is a kind of sociology experiment. all these folks from all over the world in this one spot for similar or very different reasons. and even if you are from the same country, the chances that you would be speaking to each other and having that kind of interaction in your own country is small. that’s part of what makes it so intersting.
so why the guilt…
i’m headed to tikal tomorrow at the crack of dawn. old mayan ruins that are huge and extensive. i’m not excited but i am curious to see them. and i think i’ve decided that next weekend i’m headed to the coast for a few days…they have creole cooking and you all know how greedy i am.
i’ll keep you posted.
by that i mean rearends. mine. it should be really beautiful after this little jaunt south. i say that because of the hill that is a 60 degree incline that tapers off into a gentle 45 degree slope closer to the top. yeah…my lazy end has to climb that to get to the internet or to buy anything beyond chips or soap.
lucky me.
my mind is a swirl of all sorts of tidbits i´ve been wanting to write…and now they´ve fled me. frustration at my spanish journey has taken precedence. today was especially difficult as i am STILL tackling irregular verbs. and i feel so stupid. it all sounds so easy on paper but when i comes down to it i stutter like porky pig and get so frustrated it makes it all worse.
i wish i could skip over this part and get to the part where i sound less like a 2 year old.
2 year old or not, i listened to my brother lament about his girlfriend today. moreover, i understood most of what he said. it seems love drama of the young (and not so young) prevail in this fair city as well. never fret, all is well and he and is honey are back together. i sense there will be a seranade tonight (both brothers play multiple insturments…the guitar being my favorite).
at the store today i was greeted as negrita. not offensively so much as a distinction from the rest of the gringos floating around town. people always say it with a smile and i think i might have to take it on as one of my handles. it seems to be almost as intersting as my hair. there have been other negritas but i don´t think any of them have had my hair so wherever i go, people boing my twists and talk amongst themselves about how spongey it is.
i guess in some ways that is just like home…only i understand slightly less of what they have to say here unless they want me to understand.
so it has been raining like a beast out here…considering everything is on a steep hill that adds a level of difficulty i hadn´t anticipated. of course until today that meant it was cool…today it was just humid, sticky and humid. mmmm, my favorite.
class teh past two days has been me trying to talk like a 6 or 7 year old instead of a 5 year old -with my maestro. it has been interesting -albeit disjointed conversation. i´m pleased at the things i´ve managed to learn from talking to her.
today we celabrated my sobrino´s graduation from second grade. this amazing soup i have to get the recipe for (as if i´ll stay put long enough to actually simmer chicken…alas, ladawn or ced will). i also thought how strange it must be to have a complete stranger at your table who only understands every second or third word (fifth on a bad day). even so, these people are amazing and i have yet another family to add to my list of familes around the world.
after waking up at 8 (keep in mind class is at 8) the other night after listening to my hermanos playing guitar and singing for a few hours, i went to bed early last night. what a difference it makes. i´m able to wake up without an alarm clock…which is good since i didn´t pack one.
oh yeah, one last thing…an outdoor bathroom doesn´t suck because it is outside, or even because it is outside in the rain, but because inside while listening to the rain you have to go to the bathroom more frequently and more urgently because you hear the rain outside…
and…just an aside, i had forgotten about the chickens with toupees…we had them in south africa. these rather sad looking things that are bald all around thier necks and most of their head except a cluster of feathers delicately arranged like a very bad rug…
i wouldn´t recommend spraying deet into your left eye. i just wouldn´t. never mind the lable that says the same thing…i´m speaking from experience.
my new hotel room was a little sketchier than i anticpated. i had bedbugs…at least i think they were bedbugs. they were definitely bugs. and while i´ve slept wih bedbugs before, they aren´t my choice especially when spending $10 a night on a room…so i debated but finally relented and told management.
he assured me they weren´t bedbugs…just bugs. i smiled and felt better and prepared to spray my insect repellent on my sheets just in case. of course, in my enthusiasm i sprayed both my pillow and my eye.
both for naught. the manage came back with a new key for a new room. 2 bed, more room and a…and a beautiful television set complete with cable (read shows aired in english sometimes). so i blinded myself for no reason.
but i gotta confess, as far as bedbugs, or any bugs go, those little guys are my favorite…they got me the little respite i was looking for… hot water to wash my hair in and a tv to lounge around watching and ideling a sunday morning away with.
oct. 27
as with all things, there is a balancing factor. trading one benifit on behalf of another. in this case -going to bed early so that i am not tired en la mañana prevents me from sleeping through the night. instead, at 2am i dance an elaborate dance unbolting the back door and walking through overgrowth to find the light switch high on the bathroom door. only to dance that dance in reverse once i finish. and this night, a nightmare fading in my memory, keeps me awake long after my jorney to el baño.
today, oct. 29, 2005
traveling alone is a little like talking to yourself in public. everyone notices but pretends not to see. you aren´t particularly dangerous, or even interesting -except there is a slight sense of pity. like requesting a table at dinner… solamente una.
only me.
and so i´m lead to a table to eat and watch people, traveling in packs of two or more, enjoying the drawn out meals that i adore wherever i am.
i must admit i´m a little lonely. i´m here for a purpose but in the off time, when i can´t find someone to chat me up for reasons other than trying to hit on me, i find myself wishing for company and good conversation.
my spanish conversation from the other day apparently had a lot to do with more than spanish. cute guy lone girl…i can´t be mad. but it is hard to make friends when the subteties of the language are lost on me still.
i´d like to think i´m getting better but i have no way of knowing. yesterday was a much better day than today. and part of me is dreading tomorrow. i didn´t memorize the irregular verbs i set out to memorize. i guess i should have stayed in the village. less…or at least different…kinds of distractions there.
at any rate, i may be home a few weeks early…the end of november instead of the begining of december. a minor difference to most, but i can´t afford to do what i planned to do (namely the bay islands of honduras) and i´d prefer company for anything else…so maybe i´ll be home for thanksgiving…i´ll keep you posted.
(yes i´m a little bored)
oct. 25, 2005
the water was ool -cold against the skin in the dusking sky. the copnay, a panamanian missionary eager to speak no matter how tortured my efforts of spanish. he asked where i was from -rather-if i was country kin (panamanian too). but alas my failed spanish betrayed my roots. estados unidos. even so, treading clear lake water with tiny fish darting before me and pink clouds billowing the possiblity of rain, the moment seemed natural. neer mind this is a new place -both mind and body, it smelled vaugley of something or someplace i´ve been.
oct. 26.
novelty has escaped as quickly as the heat. thismorning lends a chill to both my bones and my ego. espnaol no vas vacil para mi. the struggle this morning is my struggle always -estar y ser. but it ectens. my will “to be” past tense still evades me. and iroly of ironies, the pace of speech slays me.
my patience was short -with myself and with hearing it all around me a trip to arcas, a local rescue and rehabilitation center for the surrouning forest was interesting in theory., but solamente spansih with potential dengue feber (read muchas mosquitos) on a mission to bite blended into background musci to my own musings.
of course being climbed on by spker mondkesy and having my hair pulled by said monkeys was intersint . they are stonl little things with dextrous grips.
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