Winding down in Antigua

The last day of this trip, a day to end all days.  Full of sun and crisp perfect weather and it doesn't rain even once. Instead the usual heavy afternoon clouds roll in around 2 pm full of wet portent but then move on. As if they know.

After much surveying of fellow travelers and internal deliberations, I decided to stay in Antigua instead of heading to Guatamala City for my final day, to see what I could see there. Yes, it would have been nice to get to know the capital a bit and some of the country's finest museums and the hostel where I would have stayed (included nice conveniences like a complimentary city tour and ride to the airport!) .... but returning to Antigua after my few days away at Laguna Atitlan felt surprisingly like coming home. I was just so happy to be back, on such pretty, familiar territory.

Once back, I also finally (!) got to experience a Guatamalan volcano. After two previously thwarted attempts due to rain or poor "registration," I found a group leaving Antigua for nearby Volcan Pacaya the very next morning (at 6 am to be precise about it). Antigua is surrounded by several volcanos, including Volcan Agua which at 3766 meters dominates the southern end of the city, serving as a constant, handy point of orientation. Also visible is Volcan de Fuego, which coincidentally erupted in full flowing lava swing just the other day. Acetanango is the "big Mama" at 3974 meters and plenty of local tour agencies offer overnight trips so you can watch the sun rise before making your way back down.

Pacaya moonscape

By these standards, Pacaya is puny though still impressive - and also quite active.  It last erupted almost exactly 2 years ago and plumes of hot smoke are everywhere. It's a popular volcano because it's so accessible -in just 1 1/2 hours we were on top, surrounded by surreal moonscape views of black volcanic ash and lava rock. It is like being on another planet. Only with marshmellows, which we gaily toasted over the earthy fire.

In addition to adding another Central American volcano to my list, I finally also made it Cafe No Se. Cafe No Se is really a bar, where Ilegal Mescal is served in its own special room with a sign warning "2 shot limit" as you enter. The other really amazing and special thing about Cafe No Se is its location directly across the street from El Hostel, my Antigua home away from home. I haven't had as much fun in a hole in the wall tequila bar and met as many fun, cool, open, gregarious and also inebriated people while listening to great live music, as I did during my 2 nights at Cafe No Se. Where, once again, I almost got talked into postponing my flight home.

Cafe No Se

Other highlights resulting from choosing to stay in Antigua: wandering its streets some more; revisiting el mirador; yoga at Hotel Panza Verda; talking mangos with the fruit stand lady; hearing Luis and Jancho play at the Rainbow Cafe; bonding with fellow El Hostel mate Jaime; discovering rellenitos de platanos; and absoring the charm and warmth of Antigua deeper into my psyche for future reference.                                  

I can see why so many expats come here then never leave. I am sure I would have found Guatamala City gratifying in its special own way. But Antigua was what I needed more. I leave Guatamala the right combination of happy and sad, for inspiring future visits.

Jaime y yo

Note: click here for more Antigua highlights captured

Getting a little bit sick of the rain

The rain keeps sabotaging everything.  Hellllloooow WET season!

Wet season lasts from May to about September/October here in Central America and I´m learning the hard way it´s not messing around. The rain was lovely when it started back in Nicaragua turning Ometepe vibrant green and the Antigua streets shiny for a few convenient hours, but now it´s done nothing but sabatoge my plans and make me really soggy.

Wet season means ¨low¨ season in Central America, therefore a difficult time to find groups for planned outdoor activities. With only 2 people signed up, Quetzeltrekkers canceled the 3 day hike I was so looking forward to from Xela to Atitlan.  Then after finally finding a guide willing to take just one person up Volcan San Pedro, I woke up this morning to the strongest downpour since arriving at Lago de Atitlan on Wednesday.

But I took the 7:30 am lancha from San Marcos where I´d been staying to San Pedro anyway, fully optimistic and hopeful the rain would stop by the time it arrived - even though San Pedro is just a 15 minutes boatride away. Nevermind that climbing a steep volcano when it´s wet nevermind raining is not a good idea by any rational standards, I just really wanted to HIKE. Unsurprisingly my guide wasn´t going anywhere.

So instead I have a day to kill in San Pedro La Laguna. Not a terrible place to while (wile?) some time away on a rainy day... getting to know this other pretty town on the laguna, eating lots of freshly made tamales, catching up on emails and some reading. Besides, I love tamales and my room at Hotel Tepepulkan has a good view of the lake, appropriate for my last day here.

Tomorrow I will forget about Volcan San Pedro and visit Chichicastenango´s famous Sunday market instead.  I will practice non-attachment, roll with the punches. I´ve been wanting to visit Chichicastenango anyway.

Oh look! The sun is coming out.

POSTSCRIPT(S)

That sun was a momentary hoax.  It peeked out then went away again. The rest of the afternoon continued to be heavy with clouds and the portent of more rain to come.  I did manage to sneak in two fresh tamales on a street stoop before it returned!

**

My grand accomplishment of the day: finding San Pedro´s used bookstore and getting a new book (did I blog about how my trusty Kindle died when I landed??).  Finally finished the copy of ¨The Lost City of Z¨ that Natalie gave me when I left Salinas about the early 20th century explorer Percy Fawcett and loved it very much. I will be returning to the U.S.A. reading - or perhaps having finished? - Margaret Atwood´s ¨The Blind Assassin.¨ 

**

I am happy for this stolen day roaming San Pedro´s winding streets. Just 15 minutes away but so different from San Marcos, more like an actual Guatamalan town than a gringo hippy commune kibbutz. Though San Marcos is where I met amazing artist and newest friend David Perez Sacach and I will remember it fondly thus along with our hike along the lake and through the hills all the way to Santa Cruz.

**

The girls.. sisters, cousins, friends?... are glued to the TV. The small gaggle of them is gathered there mesmerized by some Spanish variety show where adults are performing slapstick routines that keep sending them into fits of hysterical laughter. Even if I have come for tonight's chorizo taco special I am clearly sitting in what is also the family living room. No matter. I am the only one there, awaiting my taco special among the plastic tables and chairs and every once in a while I set my book down to see what's so funny. Whenever they burst into laughter the youngest one looks over, as if curious to see whether I find all this funny too. I make a point of demonstrating that I do. Outside dusk has become night and the rain falls in heavy sheets.

**

All afternoon people return my smiles. I will miss that about Central America, the exchange of pleasantries that seems to come so easily here with just about everyone. Old women with bundles on their heads. Kids playing on the streets or biking past. Men walking to the fields with their hoes and machetes. I usually start it saying, "buenos dias" or just "buenos," or "adios" and they all smile warmly briefly back and say something in kind. Today an older San Pedro gentleman wearing a cowboy hat stopped me on a narrow path we were crossing to introduce himself. He held out his hand and I hesitated just briefly before taking it. "Mucho gusto," I said meaning it before we both just carried on.

#
     

Miradors, puposas and coffee

Today was a good first full day in Antigua. Spend the morning leisurely enjoying my free hostel breakfast then follow the street up from El Hostal in search of Antigua's mirador, Cerro de la Cruz aka Hill of the Cross. I was told morning is the best time to go for both the sunnier views overlooking the city and optimal chances of not getting mugged. Although according to Lonely Planet, "no crimes against tourists have been reported since the tourist police squad started patroling the area."  Thank you, tourist police squad!

Cerro de la Cruz and Volcan Agua

The walk up is more strenuous then I anticipated because I pick the wrong fork in the road, therefore find myself huffing and puffing up an S trail meant for vehicles. Flashback to me doing something  similiar while searching for a castle in Portugal, only thankfully this time it only lasts about 20 minutes and there are no trucks. On top I mistake Plaza del Santiago for the mirador and wonder why the cross has been replaced with an equestrian statue. A nice park attendent tells me the actual mirador is just a little further up so I continue on and lo and behold there's the cross. And the views! And all the other tourists!

The walk down is much nicer, because I am on the right path this time consisting of pleasantly spaced apart steps. I meet a beautiful American bull terrier with a giant head named Yuma and stop to say hi before continuing on (I miss Shusha! And Kalema!).

Yup this is Yuma

I decide on lunch before my planned afternoon coffee farm tour and head to the restaurant La Cuervita de los Urquizos near Las Ruinas de Capuchinas where the bus comes to fetch all the coffee farm visitors at 1:20 pm. I have a good hour. For lunch I settle on puposo which I've been wanting to try and because it's impossible for me to decide whether I should get the queso, frijoles or cerdo puposo I get the mixta along with a side of broccoli (broccoli!!!!) and a scrumtious jugo de rosa de jicama. Then it's about time for the bus.

The coffee tour on the Filadefia "resort" lasts almost 2 hours and by the end I am overwhelmed by my newfound knowledge about what makes coffee coffee. For example, before it is a bean, coffee is a flower (smells like jasmine!) then a fruit (looks like a red berry!). Also after following in the footsteps of a coffee bean from seedling to plant to fermenting to drying to husking to roasting, etc, I have never wanted a cup of coffee more in my whole entire life. We head to the "coffee degustation room" and I finally get to sample the "complimentary" cup included in the $20 tour.  It's worth every %$#*&$? penny!



Best end of a tour ever!



Pretty Antigua



Antigua's Parque Central

Antigua is as pretty as they say, in that quintessential way old colonial towns with their old colonial ruins, rain slicked cobblestone streets and small boutique shops are just so ... pretty.

Despite hearing about how pretty Antigua is from so many people on this trip it still comes as a surprise. Antigua, Guatamala is nothing like what I've experienced of Central America so far during my seven weeks in Nicaragua, with its rugged rural beauty and also frequently overwhelming heat. Antigua’s appeal is more like candy, and I spend the afternoon walking to soak it all in and also to stretch out my legs from the 20 hours it took to get here on a bus from Managua late last night (never again). With the fresh baked smell of the panderias; the vibrant colors of its handicrafts and painted facades; the cool ~1500m Highland Valley air, Antigua is an all encompassing sensory experience. Gillian and Tanya told me Guatamala was "magical" and already on my first day here I see their point.


Rainy Antigua streets


Already I can also see how hard it will be to “squeeze” Guatamala in. Coming here was a last minute decision, inspired by another traveler in Granada, NR a day before my designated flight home. The problem with having the so-called freedom to travel is that it easily becomes addicting - especially the longer you go. Exposure to other travelers only makes it worse, fueling the desire for further exploration with tales of their own.

And so I have come with only 9 days to experience one more country, and emotionally bracing myself for the fact that I will leave here wanting more. I have planned and re-planned my remaining days in my head multiple times and each potential itinerary is different. Is it worth taking a whole day to go see Chichicastenango? Better to spend more time in Antigua and/or Lake Atitlan instead? Should I visit a working coffee farm, that jade jewelry maker Robin and Aubrey told me about, or go see the lava flowing in active Volcan Pacaya? What is the best possible way to minimize the impact of a 5 hour bus to Xela then back to Guatamala City in time for my flight?

Guatamala is a big country full of wonders in all corners, including the famous ruins of Tikal and natural beauty of Semuc Champey. So I will focus my measly 9 days on just scratching the surface of its northwestern Highlands region instead, starting with the World Heritage Site that is Antigua then heading westward to Lago Atitlan. The crux and grand finale will be a 3 day trek from Xela to Atitlan with the volunteer-based tour organization QuetzelTrekkers over Memorial Day Weekend. Then Guatamala City. Then home by June 1st. Then turning 39 (!!!!!).

Phew. Yes this is the current plan.

Harry is back!

Harry made this in 15 minutes

And this time I get a gift, a giant palm heart he whips up before my eyes. My crush is official. 



We meet again almost exactly where we met the last time, while I'm dining at one of the outdoor eateries in front of the Cathedral in Granada. Yes I have returned - no, not for Harry! - but for the closer, more familiar ground of Granada over Leon, which would have required a longer bus ride through and north of Managua. The main draw would have been checking out one more town and also "sand surfing" down Cerro Negro. Instead I will return to swim in the giant crater lake that I loved so much the first time and maybe take a day trip to the crafts market at Masaya. I will see how I feel tomorrow morning. I might not.

Yes seven weeks later I am getting a bit lazy. Or rather, just ready to stop traveling and start crackin'. I left NYC thinking to see Central America and return having  visited only a handful of places in Nicaragua. I had kept things loose to see where the wind would take me when I arrived, who I might meet, and what stories they might have to share for inspiration... 



Demonstrating one of Harry's giant origami grasshoppers

As it turns out the wind and the people I met compelled me to stay put, embarking on journeys to be had exactly where I was. And so I have.

Saturday I fly home excited to see where the wind  takes me next.  

On rain and dogs and coming home

Everything is wet now. The wet season has begun and almost overnight everything’s changed - from hot sweaty sun to overcast days with only occasional glimmers of sunlight. Yesterday it rained 6 times and our sunset kayake trip fell short of a sunset - obscured as it was by a dramatic blanket of clouds. (We had fun anyway.)

I am glad to be here to witness this huge shift from Nicaragua’s dusty dry season to its shiny green wet one before I go. Glad also for the opportunity to experience it still here on tropical Ometepe, where I am spending a few extra days away from the Inan Itah “commune” amidst the gardens of El Porvenir, alone again in a private room with a bed that has sheets and a bathroom with white towels (never mind flush toilet). On Chuck’s recommendation, I’ve asked for Habitacion 11 at the very end with windows facing the garden. There is a hammock outside my front door where I can still take a short nap if I want - though I think for a while anyway I am done sleeping in one.

I have worked out an arrangement to teach yoga for a few days at nearby El Zopilote, just 15 minutes up the road. Free morning classes in exchange for meals, including the woodfire stove pizza they serve for dinner 3 nights a week including this one - which will be my last. The yoga “studio” is nothing more than a brightly painted outdoor platform with a mesh screen above for protection against the sun - though not so much the rain. It’s rained twice during each class I’ve taught so far, and always during savasana which felt like perfect timing. The morning rain comes down as a light to moderate drizzle so not too distracting for relaxing the body and finding inner peace. On the contrary.

Kalena

Kalena came with me to class today. She followed me home from Inan Itah last night, after I had returned from kayaking with Tarin and Chris. It’s a hike on to Porvenir from there and they’d (so) graciously offered to accompany me with headlamps on the dark rainy ½ hour walk through the fields and down the hill. Kalena and her sister Lanka, 2 of the Inan Itah dogs, decided to come along. Then Kalena decided to stay. I tried to send her home this morning, pointing uphill through the gate in Inan Itah‘s direction, but she wouldn’t leave. So instead we shared some toast and eggs for breakfast and went to yoga.

It is nice to have sweet gentle protective Kalena‘s company on my last day on Ometepe. She is a loyal one, waiting patiently through the night on the patio outside my bedroom door (tempted though I was to bring her in!) then by my yoga mat in the rain during class. She’s been a welcome reminder how much I miss having a dog, that maybe it will be time for one again when I return home.

After lunch I will walk Kalena back to Inan Itah in case she’s forgotten where she belongs. I’m worried about her running after my taxi (yes I’m taking one this time!) and something bad happening if she’s around when I leave tomorrow or her just not finding her way back on her own. I know sometimes how tricky that can be.

Kalena on the mat

(More final Ometepe days photos here!)

Retreating at Inan Itah, Ometepe

I've decided to stay at InanItah. This was not an easy decision and I woke up in the hammock this morning (!) despite a surprisingly nice night's sleep still thinking I might move on to Fincan El Porvenir further down the hill. Perhaps this spiritual communal life just wasn't for me?



View of the temple from my hammock bed

I've come here because Gabriela had recommended it. After a month of dusty dry season on the farm, I liked the idea of going back to the lush green foothills of volcano island Ometepe to cap off my visit in Nicaragua. I was also intruiged about the 5 day silent meditation retreat I'd discovered InanItah would be hosting round around that time. Most silent meditations I've considered in the past have been at least 10 days. Being silent for a mere 5 - with views of Volcan Conception jutting out of a lake as my backdrop no less! - didn't sound so bad. 

But InanItah is first and foremost a spirital eco-community. Its residents and volunteers (who need to stay here at least one month to count) have come because they are either curious about or committed to the path of "transformational living." Add tantric-minded to the mix and you will discover that in addition to the sweat lodge located beyond the tent area there is also a love shack for anyone inclined towards free spiritual love. Nothing is imposed or enforced but it is not shunned either so as long as you are mindful and respectful and abiding by the principles of the community as a whole, you can be as you are. Down to hanging in the communal hottub or kitchen topless.

Which is totally fine with me, even if I am just a "visitor." Not only did I have some hint of what I might be getting myself into but the communal aspect of this experience was also what drew me here. I was curious to see what this was all about, how exactly it worked and also how I fared in it -after so much solo NYC living and independent traveling. I wondered if, like the Israeli kibbutz, I would find it as intruiging as I did appalling. Or, now that I was older, maybe just more intruiging?

Well Day Two and so far I know InanItah takes some getting used to. After last night I really did feel ready to leave. I felt like I had walked into a high school cafeteria and not yet cool enough to sit with the cool kids (ahh yes that age old feeling that never goes away). And there were so many chores! So many shared responsibilities! Caring for the garden, preparing meals, feeding the composte, roasting the coffee, making the mulch, oh my...

But maybe this bit that is so disconcerting is precisely why I need to ride it out. And most of the people, individually - when you get  around to talking to them not just in group formation- are quite nice. At first I thought I might even forgo the retreat as well, instead go find a nice farm elsewhere , practice on my own and be silent with myself, on a hike or kayaking in the lake. But Gaia, the woman with dreadlocks down to her knees when they are not piled high on her head and one of InanItah's co-founders, has structured a great program, full of workshops and teachings as well as silence, so I will learn about things like Osho and ecstatic dance and other ways to experience a deeper meditation, which I am also pretty curious about.

So this is me signing off for the next few days, hopefully with good news to report upon my return. At the moment anyway I am looking forward to some silence :)

I have a small traveling meltdown

Back of the bus views from Moyagolpa to AltaGracia

Leave Salinas on 6:30 am bus to Rivas. Natalie and Paul come too to get their big grocery shopping done (nuts! coffee! cheese!) so my final trip is an excursion.  We are hoping to beat the heat and maybe also the crowds but the bus comes and this is the worst it's ever been.  Playing twister on the bus. Not squeezing in not an option as the next bus is at least another hour depending on when it shows up. 

So people squeeze in. The lucky ones sitting, usually women, usually 3 to a seat with their babies and small children piled on top. Did the Canadian Blue Bird Compay ever think its yellow school buses would work quite this hard? Be filled quite so high to the gills? Even the space over the seats is occupied because people dangle there, leaning so far forward from the aisle as more people crowd on or past to get off. Personal space is meaningless here, so abstract and irrelevent a concept as to be laughable when I think of the eyerolls and heavy sighs at rush hour on the NYC subways back home. 

Here even the babies just deal with it, their little foreheads shiny with beads of sweat, their faces practically serene with non-crying as if savvy to the question what would be the point?  There is nothing to be done. I would only be contributing to the chaos if I cried.

At one point I am so awkwardly straddling Paul's leg in front of me, hanging by the handlebars above into a seated woman's lap that she offers me a spot on the seat beside her, only a few inches or so since they are already two but I gratefully accept the offer and make it work, just glad to be out of the morass above and around me, as conscious of my sitting being a relief for those still standing as it is a relief for me to be away from them.

Same thing again once I arrive later that morning via ferry to Isla de Ometepe, where I've returned to spend the week this time for a retreat. Same thing as the first only this bus is smaller, more mini van than bus. I get on from the back this time, the trouble with traveling with a 70 liter mochilla attached like an appendage sprouting from my back so big I'm afraid to take it off for fear of having to put it back on.  Once situated on the bus I do, resting it among the crates and the sacks of rice and wheat and coffee and sitting on it as more people pile on and on and on...

And this is where I have my meltdown, sitting on my mochilla and staring at legs all around not even windows with a view, as the question "why why why why why am I here?" rises up and my face suddenly scrunches up and rivulets of tears join the sweat already there so that noone even has any idea I'm crying. It's one thing to be touting all the suffering you've put with for the sake of climbing a volcano.  However do I explain this?

But then more people pile onto the back of the bus along with their crates and sitting on my backpack on the floor is no longer a luxurious option so I stand. One of them happens to be a wisp of an old lady, so little she barely reaches my shoulder. She is wearing slacks, a flowery blouse and wire rimmed glasses, her straight grey hair pulled back and tucked behind her ears. We are standing there among the mostly men and teenagers and there are no handebars for her to grab, no window or door she can lean on because she is in the middle. So I think fast and make a handlebar for her with my arm by pressing it against the window and she grabs it.  Eventually we decide my shoulder is a more sturdy option so she holds on to that instead until we reach our destination in AltaGracia.

I am still not sure about directions to InanItah, the permaculture spiritual farm community where I'll be staying. The website says one thing, the guy James who I meet says another, then Paul on the phone from the farm says something different. I opt for Paul's version and take another bus and get off where I think he's told me to get off at Santa Cruz.  It is now about 2:30 and I am lost. There are no signs and I have no idea where I'm going.  The mochilla is back on my back and I am carrying my knapsack in front as I start to just walk, stopping people I see to ask.

Inan Itah signage

Fortunately, some of them have heard of this place and soon I am climbing a hill, then left and up another hill. Jorge with the bicycle has become my unofficial escort and I am sad to part ways when he says good bye, gives me a toothy sympathetic smile and points me in the direction of a handpainted sign that reads: Sendero para la laguna: 6 km. 

Another climb, several fields and 40 minutes later I pull into InanItah. So to speak. I've arrived via the back dirtroad it seems, happening upon Jared who is calmly watering the garden plugged into his iPod.  He confirms that I am at the right place and I follow him into the kitchen. 

He hands me a glass of water and then asks if I am ok.

I am now.

Things I will miss about Equilibrio

Welcome to Equilibrio

Has it already been 5 weeks? Well the time sure has flown and I never expected to be here as long as I have…but the allure was too strong… Gabriela and James’ hospitality too great…to justify leaving any sooner.

Equilibrio has been everything I needed though it only became obvious once I got here and slowly began to fall in love with the farm: the gentle rhythm of time passing from dawn to dusk; the balance of days filled equally with nature, good work, yoga and laughs; experiencing moments of beauty throughout in the birds, the breezes, the rippling of the river. I feel fulfilled and happy and sorry to leave. But tomorrow I continue on with a good excuse that I‘ve externally manufactured out of a retreat back on Ometepe island that starts on Monday. Deadlines are everything.

Every once in a while I will refer back to this list of things I miss about Equilibrio to help me always remember:
 

Roomates


Living on a beautiful farm by the river with an ocean just around the bend

My sun shower

Roosters dutifully letting me know dawn break is just two hours away

My two tiny frog roommates

Walking to the local pulparia for milk and their occasional bread cake

One last breakfast smoothie

Nightly gatherings for dinner, banana mango smoothies and dubstep in the “kitchen dungeon” with Natalie and Paul

Kayaking malasana-style with Natalie


Counting cordobas with Paul



Natalie and Paul

Keeping track of the tide

Wading (and sometimes sinking) in mangroves

Yoga with Gabriela

Practicing at her studio to the perpetual sound of ocean waves then taking a swim in them

The hangatorium

Carlos and Juan

Hammocks always at my disposal

The gentle belligerence of the nightly guard dogs, Buga and Vinci



The shouts, smiles and smirks of the kids of Las Salinas

Their patience with my Spanish

Watching the gardens evolve under Paul’s watchful eye (and sunburned back)

Falling asleep to the chit chatty sounds geckos make

Composting

Waking up to birds, trees and breezes in a giant, green fishbowl

Guardabarrangos at dusk


Gracias para todos. Ustedes lo agcradezco siempra.

Forever grateful,
Karen

And of course some last photos