One Long Day Of Traveling = Some Very Tired Students

Our backpacks, all set for travel. Wrapped to prevent straps from snagging in baggage conveyors.

After flying for 12 hours and waiting in airports for another 8 hours,  we arrived on a redeye to Guatemala City, cleared immigration and customs checks as two very tired gringos. Our packs were still neatly wrapped when they appeared on the baggage claim conveyor belt. What a relief. We have packed our clothing, study books and other ‘stuff’ into those bags for the next two weeks in San Pedro as well as work clothes, sleeping bags and other required items for our week working with Esperanza International. It would be such a drag to have a bag missing. 

Directly outside of the airport, we were met by Clemente, our driver. He has some English and we have some Spanish, so we were able to communicate reasonably well. This is a very good thing because we would spend the next 5-1/2 hours together, traveling through Guatemala to the little pueblo of San Pedro La Laguna, on the edge of Lake Atitlan. We buckled up and sent a prayer out for our safe arrival, as we’ve previously had drivers in Guatemala who drive like Formula 1 wannabes. Clemente proved to be a courteous and law abiding driver. Perhaps this is what comes from living in a small town, instead of a loud, aggressive big city. Quit possibly it is also in his Mayan heritage.

Once we left the city and the miles and miles of outskirts, we drove through the countryside of occasional pueblos and dense jungle. We passed dozens of coffee farms, as this is one of the primary exports of Guatemala.  Low hanging clouds followed us most of the way, occasionally sprinkling us, occasionally drowning us,  as we traveled higher and higher into the volcanic mountains

Carved into the the jungle, coffee fields are nearly everywhere.

Some two hours into our drive, Clemente stopped at a restaurant on major highway intersection. It was time for some breakfast and a bio-break. It was about this time that those low hanging clouds decided to drown us. John, Cemente and I jumped the potholes filled with water and tried to dodge as many raindrops as we could. Slightly dampened,  but no worse for the wear, Kapa Paulinos proved to be a popular place for a meal. Our coffee came quickly , as John and I realized that we were the only gringos in the building. We are becoming more and more accustomed to this and are happy to have the chance to be in places where we are the tourist.  Clemente ordered a traditional Guatemalan breakfast of eggs, fried banana and black beans. After our last stay in Guatemala, both of us are burned out on the bananas and black beans. John opted for a breakfast type burrito and I went with a breakfast style quesadilla.  Naturally, everything is served with the unique kind of tortillas that are made in Guatemala and accompany every meal.

Hearing the familiar, ' pat ... pat ... pat' of la senoria patting the tortilla into shape means some fresh ones are coming to the table soon.

Back on the road, we continued to climb higher and higher  into the mountains until, eventually, we began to head into a huge valley and Lago Atitlan. Only a portion of the drive toward the lake is a consistently paved road. Roads of asphalt and mud gave way to roads of muddy potholes and  were barely wide enough for two vehicles. Clemente joked that his little Toyota was a ‘cuatro por cuatro’.  Far from being that, he was meticulous in avoiding the holes that could swallow dogs and small children. It was a thoroughly bumpy ride, reminiscent of our local Government road in in it’s worst condition.

San Pedro La Laguna is at the end of the road.  To get here, we drove through the three pueblos of San Juan, San Pablo and San Maria. Lots of Sans around here  each of the pueblos is named for their patron saint.  We seem to have a hidden talent for arriving in other countries on significant holidays. Portugal and France were having independence celebrations, Russia was celebrating the end of WWII, as was Germany. We landed in Guatemala on their 175th anniversary of independence from Spain and each pueblo has a party, usually in the form of a parade. In San Juan our trip was halted, while we watched the parade that was going through the heart of town. All was done after about ½ hour. I enjoyed the parade. It was so reminiscent of our 'back to school' parades we used to have when we lived in the Green Lake neighborhood in Seattle.  Very home grown.  When we got to San Pedro, Clemente knew the streets so was able to detour around the parade to bring us to our home for two weeks.

Many of the youngsters were simply walking along with their fellow classmates. These young ladies were walking, holding hands and laughing at the antics of the young boys in front of them.

We were stopped at the intersection that the parade turned on, so had some stretch our legs and enjoy the excitement of the children and parents alike.

The many school bands were percussion heavy with only a few trumpets and trombones. Not a saxophone, clarinet, or flute to be seen. I suspect that the students play whatever instruments the schools have to offer.

Our apartment sitting area. Yes, turquoise walls...my favorite.

We are living in an apartment up four flights of stairs in the home of Mynor, his wife Josefa, and their two boys. Being Mayan, they are small in stature but huge in life and love. Mynor is one of the owners of the Cooperativa Spanish escuela that we are attending.  We are in his apartment only by happenstance. More on all of that in future entries.

For me, its time to do my homework. John is already hard at it. Hopefully our memories of Spanish lessons in Antigua will surface soon.