Jew vs. the Volcano

Ryan and I woke up bright and early on Sunday morning to tackle Volcan de Pacaya, the nearest active volcano to Antigua. A little shaded out about having to walk the relatively dangerous streets in the middle of the night (it was 5 in the morning), we briskly trotted to the planned meeting spot to catch the bus to the volcano. We met Kennedy (the sweet English girl) at the bus and headed out. The bus was pretty full and included a couple of armed guards as there have been some problems, historically, with thieves preying on hikers aqui en Guatemala. The bus ride was about an hour and half and we slept some of the way, but it was hard not to notice the beautiful scenery since the trip offered some amazing views of the triplet of volcanos ringing Antigua (Agua, Fuego, and Acatenango, Air and Earth remaining unrepresented).

We arrived at the base camp at around 8 and met our guide. He informed us that the hike was only around 3 km. long but that in that, in those 3 km., we'd be ascending around 800 meters. Not terrible but nothing to sneeze at steepness-wise. We ate some muffins, drank some coffee, and set off.

I'll spare the gritty details of the hike up. It wasn't the hardest hike I've been on (that would involve a marmot, a glacier, and two coercive assholes...though I was glad at the end), but it wasn't totally easy. The steepness was definitely enough to lead me to go into my patented drenched-in-sweat mode, which is, as many of you know, my most seductive state. Along the way, there were vistas out over a valley with a lake in it over which was rising steam and smoke from volcanic vents.

At other points, we were met with magnificent views of Antigua's three volcanos shrouded in clouds. Because we were so high up at this point, however, the tips of the volcanos were peeking out from the mist, offering a really breathtakingly beautiful sight.




So anyway, I huffed and puffed my way up the rock. It took us about an hour and fifteen minutes to make the climb (our group had about twenty kids in it, none of whom Ryan, Kennedy, or I knew...or so we thought). When we got above treeline, we saw Pacaya's summit for the first time. It's hard to capture with a photo (even when our guide joined us), but seeing it and being there was really transfixing...






At the foot of the volcano's cone is a lava field that has built up over time. Some of the group (including us) made our way down this absurdly treacherous path (butt sliding was involved and a wrong step could land you in lava) from the ridgeline over the lava field down onto the field itself. It was really cold above treeline, but down around the lava it was (surprisingly surprisingly) hot. It was acceptably hot normally (like maybe around 100 degrees Farenheit), but when the wind gusted across the field, everyone basically just had to close their eyes and hold their breath because the heat was really an oven-level of unbearable. It was intense to be walking over something that you could see igniting the foliage that got too close to it at the perimeter of the field. Another interesting and unique aspect of the lava field was the smell: it was kind of reminiscent of barbeque but had a vaguely mineral flavor that I can't really describe. It was very striking and really added to the place. Here are some shots of the lava field from the ridgeline and of the view in the distance from the same.








In what was undoubtedly one of the (if not THE) most reckless thing I've ever done in my entire life, I made my way out about 20 feet over the field to get up close to one of the lava flows. To get there, I literally had to step between rocks that, when I looked down, were clearly floating in lava. I could see the cracks between them glowing bright orange and, as you made your way out into the field, you could hear more and more clearly the *sound* of rocks cracking and melting, the sound of the lava flowing and of gases and steam venting. It was totally crazy. I took a bunch of pictures of the lava and the field, but I'm sorry to say that many of them didn't come out that great. The colors were hard to capture and I was kind of preoccupied with keeping my footing and not inhaling 300 degree air. Some of my friends got better pictures that I'll try post in addition to these when I can get my hands on them. I also have some sweet movies of flowing lava up close and panoramics from the ridge line. Anyway, here's what I got (that's Kennedy -- the redhead -- in the group picture at the end, and a pretty cool shot of the field from the ridgeline to give some perspective -- check out the people standing down in the lava field where near where we had been -- right before that).









We made our way down (after grabbing some igneous souvenirs) at a brisk pace. About ten minutes into the descent, I was talking to Kennedy about college and I mentioned Amherst (where I went). A girl near me perked up and said something to the guy she was with who nodded. Intrigued, I asked if one of them knew of Amherst and it turned out that he'd gone there. "What year?" I asked, and he responded "2002." Pretty ridiculous. So I happened to run into Paul Heller, this classmate of mine (out of a 400 person class, mind you) on a volcano in Guatemala. It was kind of weird that we hadn't recognized each other (he said I looked familiar, but I don't really remember him). So we spent the walk down talking about our mutual friends (Hi, Drew and Jay), catching up on what we'd been doing, and catching each other up on what we knew of others from our class. Very funny.

Bus ride back was uneventful. Ryan and I were in a rush to shower and change so we could meet up with folks to watch the World Cup finals at Los Arcos Reds. We made it there by half-time and had a nice time, though I wasn't really in physical condition to drink after my abnormally athletic morning. It was definitely fun to watch the Cup finals in a Latin American country, but we were disappointed that Brazil (or any other Latin country for that matter) hadn't made it; that would have been wild.

After the game, our buds who were visiting from Xela caught the bus back and the rest of us went out for a while before going back home. It was the end to one of the craziest, most adventuresome, most beautiful weekends of my life (I think Ryan would agree). Really amazing. A fitting last weekend to such an incredible trip. We went into the next week knowing that Ryan would depart on Tuesday and I would leave on Friday, determined to make the most out of what time remained.

Lago de Atitlan

Ryan, Luke, Aileen, Amy, and I were picked up by a tour van just as it was beginning to pour in Antigua for our trip to Lago de Atitlan, a lake that we’d heard to be one of the most beautiful in the world. The lake is located in the Guatemalan highlands (at a higher altitude than Antigua, which is itself high enough for the altitude to impact one’s breathing skills at first), and is surrounded by 12 pueblos (villages) with apostolic pretensions (i.e. one for each) and some larger towns. Our tour package included a night in a relatively alright hotel and, more significantly, a private boat tour of the lake with visits to three pueblos. We were very excited.

Our hotel was located in Panajachel, the largest town on the lake, which was kind of reminiscent of a third-world Jersey Shore in some ways. Our ride took forever because of the rain (and the terrifying hairpin turns with cliffs on both sides and school buses hurtling around corners) and the sun had already set when we arrived at the lake. Nevertheless, we could tell as we descended that it was a beautiful place; the shadows of the mountains and volcanos surrounding the lake promised for breathtaking scenery. (Aside: some American in the Internet café where I’m writing this is reading about the train blasts in India and, in enlightening some girl next to him about the latest news, referred to Mumbai as ‘Mum-be-a.’ Sweet.)

That night, we grabbed dinner at this meat shack that was open to the street. Stray dogs wandered among the tables (I threw them scraps…I couldn’t help it) while we ate. The food was good. Aileen and I split an enormous plate of meat including: two steaks, two pork chops, two chicken breasts, two beef sausages, and two pork chops. It was not kosher, but it was tasty. I gotta say, for a tiny little girl, Aileen can eat like few people I’ve met. It’s really impressive. We theorize that she has a parasite and is thus eating for two. In any case, post-binge we went to a pretty alright bar with good drink specials (a quality we’ve learned to seek out above most others) and had a very fun time. We had noticed (by we, I mean Ryan, Luke, and I) some cute local ladies giving our table the eye and, since Ryan and I have made it our mission all summer to pick up women for Luke, the only single guy in our group, we resolved to meet them. Before we could make our (inevitably money and irresistible) entrance, however, Aileen smoothly rolled up to their table and started talking to them. Before we knew it, we were all hanging out with these two girls (Karla and something) and this guy (Carlos) who were from Guatemala City and extremely entertaining. Karla also happened to be quite hot. We thought Luke was in.


When the bar closed at 1, we proposed continuing the party at our hotel (Luke had brought a handle of rum). Back at the hotel, we played some vocab-based drinking game in Spanish and just hung around. We soon had to switch from the boy’s room to the girl’s room because someone next door had (reasonably) complained two times about how loud we were being. While Ryan tried to calm him down in near-fluent Spanish, I helpfully informed the hotel guy who came to scold us that I had powerful testicles (huevos poderosos). He ignored me, but I think I made my point. Anyway, we hung out in the girl’s room for a while before Luke and Karla “went for a walk” shortly before Carlos and the other girl (his girlfriend) decided to turn in for the night. I should say that Carlos was really hilarious and spoke very good English. I especially enjoyed some of his dirty jokes. Thinking we’d finally succeeded in pulling some for Luke, we all resolved to sleep in the boy’s room and leave the girl’s room vacant in case they tired of their walk. There were two normal beds and a double bed so the girls shared the big one while Ryan and I had our own. We had all finished preparing for sleep and gotten into our beds when Luke returned unvictorious (in his defense, I think this girl was a tease).

Since Luke was back and would no longer require the girl’s room for international diplomatic purposes, I asserted my right to the good (big) bed, which had been earned earlier in the day in a brutal game of odd-man-out. We were re-organizing our locations in the room and being pretty loud I guess because the lady next door complained again (it was 4:00 a.m. at this point). What happened at this point was classic. Ryan was in his bed and, as I was getting into my own, I think that Amy and Aileen kind of tackled Luke and they fell on Ryan’s bed. So all four of them were in this big pile in pajamas (G-rated, I promise). It was funny so I got out of bed to get my camera. I had finally found it and gotten out of its case when there was a knock on our door and it was swung open by the hotel guy. He shined his light in my face and said something harsh in Spanish that included the word “policia.” I could see his face in the light as he looked me up and down. I was wearing an undershirt and a pretty tacky pair of striped boxer briefs and holding a digital camera. As he moved the light off of me onto the pile of people on the corner bed his face contorted in shock hilariously and I kind of lost it laughing. In a hysterical panic, I did the only rational thing and ran and hid on the other side of the room door like one foot from the guy. He was alternating between shining his flashlight on the dogpile and trying to see me through the crack in the door while I was losing my shit laughing. The others, also rationally, were just kind of pretending to be asleep while this guy’s talking about the police. Eventually, I hissed “Ryan, say something in Spanish! He’s talking about cops!” At this point, Ryan ceased his otherwise-very-convincing show of being asleep under three other people, got up, and convinced this guy that we were just taking care of our sick friend through the careful application of body heat or something (this was kind of true as Aileen had vomited our meat plate out in a profuse manner earlier in the evening). The guy basically said “fuck you” and that if there was another complaint, the cops would be called. At this point, we deemed it prudent to go to sleep. I only wish I’d had a chance to snap that photo.

The next morning, after sleeping for a few hours, we woke up for our free breakfast and boat tour. Walking down to the lake, we saw it in the daylight for the first time and took a few photos and videos. It is absolutely spectacular. Definitely one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.




We met our guide (Antonio), clammered onto our boat, and commenced our tour.





We first went to two little pueblos (Santa Catarina and San Antonio) that were extremely impoverished and somewhat depressing. We met some local women and men working on textiles and also had some unsettling encounters with extremely persistently panhandling/vending children. It was, to be honest, pretty heavy, but a very interesting experience nonetheless.










Getting back on the lake, we admired it some more and Aileen and Amy went swimming an area that had volcanic vents beneath it so it was really warm. As we crossed the lake, the clouds rolled in lending it a particularly eerie quality.







The last town we visited, Santiago de Atitlan, was far larger than the other two and significant for a mayan/Santerian holy site therein called Maximo (“x’ pronounced like “ch”). A 9 year old kid named Peter offered to guide us to Maximo for 20 quetzales and, since I really wanted to see it, we accepted. He brought us to this really shady and non-special seeming house where there were a few statues and a guy who made us pay 2 quetzales each for the privilege of seeing it. It kind of sucked and I caught shit from the others. On the way back, we bumped into those sixteen year olds that Aileen had befriended in her first week. Ryan slyly asked them if they’d been fortunate enough to see Maximo and, when they said yes, he asked where it was. Not so shockingly, it turned out that Peter had fucked us. He probably took us to his dad’s house. We found out where the real deal was (sort of) and started making our way towards it, though we had to stop and ask locals for directions about five times. It was a pretty interesting little adventure climbing high up in this mountainside, third-world city. When we were deep in there, I think it was one of the more impoverished places we’d been all summer...very raw



Anyway, we finally found Maximo and it was a lot cooler than the fake one though not overwhelming. There were a couple of Santeria priests in there, however, who took a liking to me and we joked a little, me in Spanish and them in some other language or really weird Spanish. I wasn't permitted to photograph the shrine unfortunately. Suffice it to say, I gained great power through sacrifices to dark gods and it would behoove you all to tread carefully in my presence henceforth. We made our way back down to the shore, met up with our guide, and boated back over to Panajachel for lunch. At 4, we caught our bus home. The ride was totally terrifying. What took 3.5 hours on the way there took 1.5 on the way back. The driver was psychotic and rude, but I just figured that I didn’t really have much control of the situation so better to just kind of get into it than freak out about it. After that it was more fun and I just kind of assumed we wouldn’t be killed when we were passing buses on those cliff-side hairpin turns at 50 mph without knowing what was around the corner. We lived so it’s cool.



We got back to Antigua at around 6 and met up with Maggie, Dave, and Sarah, three other kids from school who are living in a different part of Guatemala but were visiting Antigua for the weekend. We ate dinner but Ryan and I turned in shortly afterwards because we had to wake up at 5:30 to tackle Volcan de Pacaya, the active volcano near Antigua. The lake was really one of the most beautiful places I’ve been and somewhere to which I’d love to return. It was an epic night and day.

Cuatro de Julio

Upon returning from Tikal, school recommenced as usual. Upon the suggestion of a housemate (Tamoko) who had been in Antigua for months, I had requested Salome as my new teacher. I knew immediately that I would like her when we met. She’s absurdly short (her feet don’t even touch the ground when she’s sitting in a normal chair), has a little girl laugh (tee hee hee), and is unbelievably sweet. She’s also an exceptional teacher (probably the most experienced in the school) and my Spanish has improved markedly under her tutelage. She also happens to be super cute in a maternal kind of way. Check her out.


In addition to teaching me tons of new Spanish, Salome also introduced me to one of the perks of our incredible school. On the grounds are growing lemon trees, orange trees, banana trees, hot pepper trees (I didn’t even know these grew on trees), and avocado trees. One afternoon, in between progressive tenses, Salome proposed grabbing some lemonade. It was hot (mucho calor) so I eagerly assented. I knew something different was happening when, instead of taking a left towards the kitchen, we headed right towards the back of the school. She retrieved a long pole with a hook-like blade on the end and began pulling lemons off the lemon tree (my job was to catch them or retrieve them from where they fell). It was pretty hilarious watching this sub-five-foot Guatemalan lady harvesting lemons and I quickly realized that the entire lemonade-making process required careful documentation…





Suffice it to say, it was delicious and we’ve been drinking lemonade every day for a week and a half. Aside from learning Spanish and drinking lemonade, Salome also told me about her (really overwhelmingly deep) faith and about some kind of freaky local folk medical remedies. Among my favorites were: treating cataracts by putting head-lice into the affected eye to eat them out; treating goiters by rubbing them with the hands of a dead child; and drinking a warm mug of human excrement to treat the fatal bite of a casampulga, which is a type of spider. Mostly though, we studied Spanish and it was great.


Tuesday was Fourth of July and Ryan, Luke, Aileen, Amy (Aileen’s fun college buddy who is here for a while), Chris, Aja, Daryl (a cool Texan from our Spanish school), Ed (the southern lawyer whom we met in Tikal), and Kennedy (a housemate of Ed’s who is a totally excellent girl from London) got together at Los Arcos Reds (of efficient drunkenness fame) to celebrate. While there, we met a cool couple from Iowa City, Monica and Chris, with whom we’ve hung out a few times since. They’re extremely amusing and nice. I’ve been really happy with how cool so many of the people we’ve met down here have been. It’s been a very pleasant surprise. Anyway, 7/4 was unsurprisingly debauched and a lot of fun. When I told Salome in the morning that the dog had eaten my homework (El perro como mi tarea…throw a tilde on the ‘o’), she wittily retorted that el gallo was the real culprit (Gallo being both “rooster” in Spanish and the national cerveza). Fourth of July was tons of fun but was probably most significant for being the first night in a week-long bender during which I didn’t really sleep more than 5 hours a night. It’s been fun but I’m exhausted and hope to get some serious sleep sometime in the near future. Though I don´t have good pics of 7-4 (dead battery), I do have some nice ones from a later night in the week. Meet Chris and Aja in all their glory (and note the totally weird face I´m making in the group picture. Es muy guapo)...







Not much else of significance happened last week that I can really remember. We got a new housemate, Albert, an econ teacher at a Montessori school who’s totally nice and interesting. Oh, additionally, Ryan had a little encounter with some criminal elements outside of our apartment, but he’s fine. They didn’t get anything and the only real result was a good story: they started grabbing at him while he was on the phone with Lexi (his girlfriend; hi, Lexi) and she was totally freaked out by him shouting “No tengo dinero! No tengo dinero! I gotta go, Lexi,” and hanging up. But he was fine and they even gave back the city map that they pulled out of his pocket. I imagine I’m overlooking a bunch of other things but I’ve been pretty busy and out-of-it, to be honest. I’ll update this post as I remember events. In any case, what was to come would overshadow the week most completely. Í'll close with some shots from an average walk home in Antigua...