Oaxaca (wa ha ka)...worth the bus trip there!

view from the bus at sunrise

passing small towns 

fresh produce at local market near Oaxaca

artwork recommending recycling. women are selling sugar crystals 

Zocalo Oaxaca

reminders of past conflict and future dreams

The ADO Platinum bus service was leaving San Cristobal de Las Casas at 9pm for the 12 hour overnight trip to Oaxaca, (you’ve probably noticed that all public transport timing I have mentioned varies enormously from the estimated to actual journey time, and it can be much more and occasionally less than what is scheduled, so it pays to factor this in to your travel plans), so I decided to spend my last few hours in San Cristobal watching a movie at a funky little café cum alternative cinema called Kinoki.

“Mar adentro” with Javier Bardem is a worthy Oscar winning film that deals sensitively with the subject of euthanasia and love. Sitting in that tiny comfortable cinema, watching an intelligent and absorbing movie in Spanish and munching on my delicious chocolate I was in heaven, so much so that I was running just a little bit late for the taxi I had booked to get me to the bus terminal. (Notice how easily I can slip into business class passenger behaviour!)  

The interior of the new “luxury” bus looked impressive, a bit like the old Cathay Pacific business class product, without the properly reclining seats, but with movies, music and onboard toilets. I was greeted, escorted to my seat and given an amenities kit and drink. I was actually expecting a safety demo and imagined a relaxing, comfortable trip.

As a dear friend pointed out later, perhaps it was wrong to even use the words “luxury” and “bus” in the same sentence as the trip was far from what I had imagined!

Maybe it was the trauma of “that” Indian bus trip from Mumbai to Goa with my friend Malcolm or the knowledge that we would be traversing through mountainous terrain at night. Perhaps it was the speed of the bus when it took off or the fact that when I looked out we seemed to be travelling awfully close to other cars. Perhaps it was the sensation of being thrown from side to side as we rounded sharp bends, but I was suddenly gripped with an irrational fear of crashing and being trapped, helpless,  and dying somewhere on a Mexican plain, slowly and alone, and no amount of meditation, listening to music or watching movies totally alleviated my fear. Give me a plane with turbulence any day!

That said, I arrived safely and sans physical injury at the Oaxaca bus terminal after witnessing a glorious sunrise and stunning green mountainous landscape for the last two hours of my “luxury” trip and I did feel that somehow I was feeling a whole lot better than if I had travelled in the economy service instead!

Oaxaca is a modern, attractive Spanish colonial town with plenty to see and do. As well as the ubiquitous churches and Zocalo (main square) it has many cafes, art galleries and markets to keep you busy and the surrounding countryside is dotted with small villages and ruins, an easy day trip away, which you can easily explore on your own or with organized tours. There is no lack of accommodation, from hostels to b and b’s and luxury hotels and it is an easy city to explore with most attractions within easy walking distance of the Zocalo, that is burst of colour, energy and entertainment every evening when the sun goes down.

My accommodation for the next few days is also business class. A modern, comfortable B and B with an eclectic mix of art work and religious icons, my themed “angels” room is just kitch enough to be interesting but not too over the top. It has an amazing kitchen which is used for cooking classes and the roof top terrace is perfect for a sunset drink with a view. Rene and his wonderful staff serve an abundant, organic breakfast, where I meet Martin, an English Brit who lives in Spain teaching English at Valencia University.  I decide to accompany him to a nearby market town in a collective taxi so that I can get my bearings. Later I have a glorious hot shower in my indoor/outdoor bathroom (now that was luxury!) and spend a few hours exploring the art galleries and markets of Oaxaca on my own.

If you ever get here, here are some Oaxaca must do’s.

Have a Tlayuda, a kind of crisp pancake with various fillings which is an Oaxacan specialty.

Try a signature local spa treatment. The temazcal is a type of sauna which involves a 1200 year old mix of magic and medicine. A Shaman uses massage, bouquets of herbs, special oil and prayers for a relaxing and different spa experience. I don’t like steam and small spaces so I opted just for the massage, and Mariana, the 70 year old shaman was like a wise old grandmother, although her flawless young skin and energy was of a much younger woman!  

If you have time, attend a cooking class. The enticing aromas emanating from the kitchen at my B and B were mouth watering!

Head to La Candela at Murgia 413 for Salsa and afterwards Café Central on Hidalgo 302 is a cool place with live music most nights.

La Biznaga on Garcia Vigil 512 is one of many good places to eat fresh local and international food.

Nuevo Mundo with great coffee, wifi and a bohemian feel is a great place to hang out.

Rene, Paola and Ruffina at www.casadelosmilagros.com is a good place to stay within walking distance of the Zocalo. They have 3 accommodation options so check which is most suitable. Rene speaks English and is a fountain of knowledge about Oaxaca and its attractions.

This morning I spoke to a childhood friend who has shared many of life’s pivotal moments with me. Yesterday I spoke to my dear Dad who just turned 86 and my sister, niece and brother in law in Hong Kong. A few days ago I called Betty and Bruce my defacto grandparents and neighbours from Sydney and this week I received emails from a number of people who I love very much.

One of the great freedoms of travelling, is the freedom to be yourself, where the people you meet don’t really know you, where you are not constrained by expectations or history or social norms or work responsibility.

However there is something equally precious and rewarding, and that is being reminded of, and feeling the connection and love for and from the people that do know you, that see you and hear you and accept you, with all of your idiosyncrasies, needs, fears and dreams. There is nothing more nurturing than hearing the voice of someone who is happy to hear from you, or feeling the hug of someone who really wants to be with you and when you get both at the same time, well that’s cause for celebration!

No matter how confident and self assured I feel, much of who I am is reflected back to me in the relationships I have, and the enduring ones, those that have withstood the test of time and potential conflict that comes from intimacy, they are the ones that remind me of who I really am and just how precious, safe and real true friendship can be.

hasta luego mis amigos y gracias 

Mon x

a mix of magic and medicine, massage mexico style

My luxury bus in background

Oaxaca's main square

view from nearby hill 

sunset

local queso, mozarella Oaxaca style 

waiting room of my Mexican massage

meandering across Mexico...

streetscene San Cristobal de Las Casas

crossing the border back into Mexico 5 more hours to go!

colonial courtyards 

and the ubiquitous Iglesia!

The 6 hour bus trip takes 10.

Delays for road works and waiting to cross the border from Guatemala into Mexico don’t help and the ‘door to door’ service I have paid for does not eventuate and we are all unceremoniously dropped off at the main square. Luckily I meet 2 girls on the bus who show me the way to my hotel. 

It doesn’t make much sense, but as soon as we crossed the border into Mexico it felt different. Perhaps it was the absence of chicken buses, or better roads, or less pollution, but I knew I was in another country.

San Cristobal de Las Casas is not what I expected. A bit like Antigua, it is buzzing with people spilling out onto the cobblestone streets from the bars, shops and restaurants that line its colonial streets. I check in to my hotel (www.casavieja.co) and set out to explore, but it is dark already and I am hungry. I find an organic restaurant (casa del pan) and really enjoy a vegetable soup and guacamole before heading back to my room to read and watch some TV in Spanish.

It feels very different being alone again, without my Xela mates, but life’s like that, constantly changing and it doesn’t pay to hang on to things as I well know.  

San Cristobal looks and feels much better the next day. I go for a walk, have a typical Mexican breakfast, explore the old centre and markets and find a fabulous place to hang out in with good coffee, food, music and wifi. (Kinoki www.forokinoki.blogspot.com)

There’s a lot to see near San Cristobal; the nearby villages of San Juan Chamula and Zinacantan and the Sumidero Canyon, but I decide not to go on any tours and just take it easy as I am going on an overnight bus for about 13 hours to Oaxaca!   

I’m nearly 6 months into “my mid life gap year”. There are days when I find myself “fast forwarding” and trying to find a way to keep travelling at the end of the year. Other days I feel a year will be enough and I will want some stability for a while. All I know for sure is that this travelling thing is addictive, and if money was no object and I could occasionally pop in to see family and friends and do it in style, I would just keep doing it.

The more I see of the world, the more positive and hopeful I become. There are so many young people who are getting a “real” education by stepping out of their comfort and reality and are contributing and learning. These will be our future leaders and parents. For all of the world’s problems, there are people striving to come up with solutions, for all the negativity, there are so many more stories of inspiration.

Everywhere people are curious and seeing similarity rather than difference. I met 2 young American psychology graduates on the bus yesterday. They were brimming with enthusiasm and early relationship love and were eager to not only have a career, but to enjoy life. They were keen to have fun, be healthy and find work that was meaningful and would make a difference. They were emotionally mature, conscious of the potential impact that their upbringing and past experience could have on their relationship. The young woman openly discussed a problem she had noticed she was having in her relationship with food. We did a mindfulness exercise together with chocolate and shared resources. The young man talked about his work as a “dating” coach for men and his concern that it might be perpetuating gender issues. I was so impressed by their insight and awareness and the 10 hour bus trip just flew. For a moment I wished I was 20 again and just starting out on my life, but then I was so glad I wasn’t. There is a time for everything…and that time for me has passed.

Hasta luego

Mon x

Goodbye Guatemala...

Tomorrow morning I will catch a shuttle bus across the border to Mexico to the town of San Cristobal de las Casas. It is a place with a turbulent political history, the site of the Zapatista uprising in 1994 and capital of Chiapas State.

Originally I was going to visit the Yucatan area, but there is no easy way to get there from where I am and San Cristobal is the only destination in Mexico that is accessible directly from Xela.  

Time has literally run away from me and I will only be able to spend a few days in Oaxaca before catching a flight from Mexico City to San Francisco and then on to Barcelona via Paris.

  

It will be hard to leave Xela. If I did not have flights and a Mediterranean cruise paid for I would stay here longer. I have made some good friends here, locals and fellow travellers and I feel that if I had longer to improve my Spanish I could easily find some voluntary and perhaps even paid work and stay for a while.

One of the things I find really attractive is the focus on the positive. There are so many examples of worthwhile, eco friendly, community development projects here and an absence of cynicism which is refreshing. Young and older people come from all over the world to learn Spanish and contribute to the community in some way. I have spoken to people working in schools, orphanages, medical and educational settings, fair trade ventures, artistic, audiovisual, research and housing projects.

Many return more than once. There is a real focus on contribution that is needs based, culturally appropriate and sustainable. I have met people from Germany, Canada, the US, Denmark, Australia, France, England, of all ages, religions, social and cultural backgrounds who are actively participating in “making a difference” in spite of the fact that Guatemala is not the safest place in the world.  

My time here would not have been as rewarding and enjoyable without the people I have met and the experiences I have had.

To Carlos, Zoily, Juan Carlos, Lupita, Milly, Yuly, Edgor and all the other staff at Xela Red Cross including the gorgeous hugging doctor whose name I did not get! Thank you for your patience and time and for letting me hang out for a while.  

To Ronnaldo my amazing Spanish teacher and friend. It wouldn’t surprise me if you were President one day! I will never forget being “trapped” at the gay bar waiting for the police to leave.

To Hugo, my gorgeous young salsa teacher. Thanks for all your encouragement. I will never forget dancing in the dark and your inspirational story. I’ll look out for your book.

To Chiki and all the other staff at B and B casa San Bartolome. Thanks for looking after me.  

To Mimi. Thanks for your unsolicited help. I am so sorry you are facing such a difficult challenge.

To Carlos at Artesano. Thanks for feeding me with love and healthy food.

To Maurizio and Ivan my salseros at Paranda and Rumba. Thanks for dancing. Maurizio who knows what you could do when your arm is out of plaster.

To Kaz my Aussie mate. It was great spending time with you and practicing Espanol.

To Sarah my salsa partner. Thanks for coming out to play.

My Xela

Artesano –Carlos prepares fresh, tasty, healthy food. Awesome salads, fresh toasted Panini and soups.

El Cuartito café –great red wine and good place to catch up with friends

Sabor de India. Great vegetarian and non vegetarian Indian food

La luna and Baviera- two cafes worth hanging out in

La Parranda and La Rumba –salsa dancing

King and Queen and Student Bar-night life in Xela

Other

www.permacyclists.com

www.theesperanzaproject.org

http://www.wiserearth.org/

www.proyectochakana.com

After all my walking and dancing, might be time to replace yet another pair of black ballet pumps!

My Spanish teacher and friend

fellow travellers, now friends

Loved the lake...

Waiting at the Minerva bus terminal for my chicken bus to leave

Lago Aitlan worth the long, uncomfortable trip to get there

surrounded by volcanoes

Hotel Aaculaax in San Marcos la Laguna

food at Moonfish cafe Yum!

One of many "healing" centres

Pyramids everywhere

astute young business women 

hammocks at hotel

view from the lake

It was great to be near water again

San Pedro pier

snacks on the "business class" bus

San Marcos pier, boat to Panajachel

back at busy Minerva terminal

John L Stevens the 19^th century travel writer called Lago de Aitlan

“the most magnificent spectacle we ever saw”

I wouldn’t go quite that far, but it was worth the uncomfortable hours in various forms of public transport to get there and back.

The lake was formed when a massive volcanic eruption 85,000 years ago caused the earth to collapse and the circular hollow that remained is Lago de Aitlan.

It is surrounded by volcanoes, and a number of small towns cling to hills around its shores. One of these, San Marcos La Laguna is, according to my guide book, a haven for contemporary new-agers and boasts Las Pyramides meditation centre, so I decide to make this my destination, with a stop in San Pedro on the way back.

Armed with the names of a few places for accommodation and with only a small day pack, I set off to catch a collective taxi from my “casa” to the Minerva bus terminal. I have been told which “chicken buses” to catch to get to the lake, and where I have to change and take a small boat, but when I get to the terminal a tout convinces me that I can get a direct bus there, but I will have to wait for an hour. I decide to wait, but I should have known better.

To be fair, the bus was direct, however the journey took nearly 5 hours (instead of the scheduled 2.5) as we had to wait nearly 2 hours for the bus to be full and then when it did eventually get going, it stopped frequently to pick up even more passengers. The last hour or so of the trip was grueling as the road was very steep with huge pot holes and the bus inched along at barely more than walking pace. The scenery was breathtaking and the scene inside the bus was photo worthy but it was impossible to take photos, in part because you had to hold on for dear life, particularly around the hair pin bends, but also because the majority of passengers were Indigenous Maya who do not like photos being taken around them.

I would have liked you to see the driver’s assistant hanging precariously out of the bus door, leaning into the wind like a dog leaning out of a car window, or the bus wall and ceiling plastered with a strange combination of cartoon characters and religious slogans.

I would have liked to you see just how many people were sandwiched into the old school bus. At one point 4 people were jammed into each seat and the aisles were crowded with extra people, every conceivable inch of the bus utilized, and people even hanging out the door.

I was at times standing, others sitting, sometimes barely one cheek on the tiny bit of seat that I could hold on to. For a while I was almost sitting on the driver and an old man was almost sitting in my lap. I could not see outside the bus, in front of me only the bright colours of the hand made multipurpose material that is used as clothing, baby carrier and shopping basket depending on the need.

As uncomfortable (and claustrophobic) as it was at times, it was a great way to get to know locals. My fellow travellers were friendly and helpful and I enjoyed overhearing their conversations (many locals speak Spanish as well as their own languages).

For a while I sat next to a family of 4 (grandmother, her 2 daughters and a granddaughter) who were going to one of the lakeside village for a family outing to celebrate the birthday of one of the sisters. The 37 year old woman had a huge smile on her face, not even the long delays cutting into her day trip could dampen her excitement. She told me she was worried about her daughter who was not doing well at school. I spoke to the young girl and shared some of my snacks with her. She was intelligent and curious and responded shyly to my questions.

The whole family laughed loudly when I began to move and sing along to the salsa music that was blaring from loud-speakers affixed to the front of the bus. If I’d had room I think I would have danced in the aisles!

Eventually we came to the top of yet another mountain and I glimpsed Lago de Aitlan. It was so beautiful to see an expanse of water. I realised just how much I had missed being near the ocean.  

The bus left me on top of a hill and the driver motioned San Marco was straight ahead. A group of young tuk tuk drivers yelled taxi and I didn’t bother to negotiate the exorbitant (by local standards) fare he demanded. Expertly he guided the 3 wheeler down the hill and deposited me at the “centro”. I followed a pathway down towards the water, glad I did not have luggage and found Aaculaax. http://www.aaculaax.com

a hotel made of recycled material that a friend had recommended.

   

I booked a cheap room (without a view) and set out to explore the village. Immediately there was something about the place I did not like. Perhaps it was the labyrinth like streets that I kept getting lost in, perhaps it was the zombie like people I came across at the meditation centre, or maybe I just tapped into all the chaotic energy of the dozens of alternative lifestylers, ex pats healers, masseurs and artists who have made San Marcos home.  

I decided to have a massage as all the “energy” was stressing me out, but even that was disappointing.

I just wanted a massage, a moderate kneading of my tense muscles with some aromatic oil. What I got was a cross between acupuncture, Thai massage which I dislike (I do not like being walked on by cold feet or stretched into ungainly and uncomfortable positions) and what was it with the heavy breathing?? I felt like I was a woman in labour being urged to breathe through contractions!

Afterwards I made my way unsteadily back to the hotel determined to leave on the first boat in the morning and decided to lie in one of the hammocks in the garden. A young woman lying in one of the hammocks greeted me and told me she absolutely loved the place because of its energy. She also told me she had left her family in Israel and followed a “guru” called John to Edmondson Canada. I managed to hold my tongue for a while, but eventually just couldn’t be silent. Surprisingly in spite of the fact that I made it clear that I didn’t think much of gurus, she invited me to join her for dinner.

It was an interesting end to a strange day. The Fe restaurant was surprisingly good although the Fish Masala I had, as a delicious as it was, was probably much too rich for me given the pretty  bland food I have been eating lately and I did have a rather upset stomach the next day!

As soon as we sat down there was huge downpour and a young girl who I had spoken to earlier sought refuge in the restaurant. I met Evangela on the pier when I arrived. She was selling chocolates for 10 quetzals (about 1 dollar) to tourists. She told me she attended school every morning until 12 but then worked until about 6. It was about 7.30pm and she was on her way home about a 25 minute walk away. For every chocolate bar she sold, she earned 1 quetzal (about 10 cents). Her dream was to become an English teacher. She was hungry so we shared our food with her and eventually she left to walk home. I marveled at how different her life was to other 11 year olds in Australia.

I slept well in my single bed, my usual alarm clock (barking dogs) woke me at about 5.30am and I decided to go for a walk to the top of the hill behind the hotel.

The ground was still very soggy from the downpour the night before and

a few times on the way up I lost my footing but the view from the top was worth it. For a few moments on top of that hill I experienced real peace.

Determined to find another way down, I made my way through thick foliage following the sound of a small boat. At one point I lost my balance and slid down part of the hill on my back, a small shrub that I grabbed on to breaking my fall. I was not hurt, just a little shaken and my “back up” reading glasses were missing from my head. Miraculously I found them half buried in the leafy undergrowth some distance away!

The hill on the way down was dotted with locked up houses, hidden from view and reached via many steep steps. Strangely there was no sign of life. I was glad to finally emerge back onto a central pathway.  

The hot shower back at the hotel washed away the mud that was caked on my arms and legs and after a breakfast on the terrace I set off to catch a “lancha” to San Pedro.

The ride on the lake to Pana where I had to catch a bus was the highlight of the trip. I closed my eyes and listened to the hum of the small motor, breathed in fresh air and felt the vibration of the small boat as it chugged across the lake past proud volcanoes and small villages carrying us safely to the other side.

There I said goodbye to the 2 girls I met who worked for Habit for Humanity, Guatemala. http://www.habitat.org/intl/lac/86.aspx

(They told me they loved their work but they were both stressed and were interested in learning how to meditate, so I gave them a quick lesson on the boat!)

I waited on the side of the road with a couple of locals and a few minutes later I was back on a chicken bus bound for Xela, my home for just a few more days.

hasta luego
Mon x

    

Back to school et al...

Tombstone at Xela cemetery -messages for Vanushka who died of a broken heart

Trek to Chikabal a Mayan sacred site

fog shrouded the lake

612 steps down, and up again!

recycling Guatemalan style!

this young chap asked us for food

Mayan altar on the shore of the lake

fog lifts

fellow Aussies

we walked with this lady and her son for a while

Election campaign in Xela

 family visiting cemetery

silent sentinel

colourful resting places

impressive family vaults

Vanushka's tomb

Xela friends flower shopping

The last week has flown by.

I have been at school all week for 5 hours a day with Ronnaldo at Cela Maya, hung out a bit at the Red Cross clinic, trekked to a sacred Mayan site, had some salsa lessons, watched locals break-dancing, watched Frida (a movie about Frida Kahlo, the amazing Mexico artist ) attended an information session by 3 intrepid adventurers travelling from Mexico to Argentina making short films about interesting people and projects they have encountered, visited the local cemetery and continued to immerse myself in a fascinating culture and country very different to my own.

Every morning I have a chat in Spanish with “Chiky” the gentle Mayan woman who cooks me breakfast before I rush out the door for my 25 minute walk to school and I take the opportunity to use my Italengospanish whenever I can!

Spanish school has been challenging. Ronnaldo my teacher is professional, passionate and very skilled. He is only 24 but has aspirations of working internationally for the Spanish version of Dante Alighieri or Alliance Francais. He loves art and music and the lessons are interesting but he is also a hard task master. I do okay with my homework (tarea) and comprehension but struggle with conjugating verbs and prepositions as often the rules seem to be directly opposite to the ones that exist in Italian or English. I do really badly on my written test after a week, but think it as much a function of my performance anxiety as of my memory lapses! 

Anyone who is worried about me please stop reading now as I am about to tell you a story that may upset you, but I want to emphasize these events are random and can happen anywhere!!!!

Although I have not had any problems at all, and don’t feel unsafe here, I have been hearing some stories about people being harassed and attacked around Xela, so I always take a taxi at night and the small group of women I go out with look out for each other making sure that we all get home safely after being out at night. Even so, one of my friends has been groped and the other night Ronnaldo, my Spanish teacher (a local) was walking home to his apartment when he was held up at knifepoint and robbed. Luckily he was not hurt but was understandably very distressed as his camera with irreplaceable family photos was taken. This incident triggered some underlying issues for him and I spent some time trying to support him over the next day. He felt violated and blamed himself for not resisting even though that would have been foolhardy and dangerous. I am telling you this because unbelievably 2 days later, he was walking in the same area with 2 girlfriends about the same time as the attack, when he saw the offender walking towards him. Without thinking he confronted the man and threatened him with physical harm demanding that his camera be returned. After initially denying he was the offender, the man confessed but said he had already sold the camera to a taxi driver. Ronnaldo demanded the taxi driver be contacted and the end result was that he recovered his camera and his confidence at the same time. To see him the next day was a joy. This physically small man stood tall and proud, incredulous at the lucky coincidence that had led to him recovering his camera.      

My time at the Red Cross has been interesting. Staffed mainly by volunteers, it runs a number of programs including community development and crisis projects. I have spent some time observing and talking to the staff and patients of the busy clinic that they operate near the Parque Central and am due to meet with their psychologist today.

There are many NGO’s in and around Xela offering voluntary work opportunities and some run programs specifically for teachers, medical staff and social workers. My intention was to do some voluntary work but after some research and talking to lots of people I decided to observe and learn this time rather than volunteer, partly because to make any meaningful contribution I think you need to be in a community for a period of time to understand the needs and also because you need to consider the unintended effects and long term implications of your “contribution”. For example who will continue the work when you leave and what expectations have been set up in the community, otherwise you could create more problems for the community than you resolve.

From what I understand the major health issue in Guatemala is nutrition, many people suffering from preventable health conditions. The community is also vulnerable to natural disasters like Hurricane Agatha which left many locals homeless last year. There are many worthwhile projects looking at cleaner, more efficient energy sources including bicycle powered corn grinders and huskers and efficient cooking stoves. The effects of the 30 year civil war are still being felt, particularly in the area near Peten called Dos Erres where a massacre occurred.  It has taken 15 years, but finally 4 perpetrators have  been held to account for atrocities committed and the murder of an estimated 500 people and have been sentenced to a total of 210 years jail time sending a symbolic message echoing the words of the report “Guatemala, Never Again”!

It has been hard to find out whether programs to redress the psychological trauma endured by survivors have been effective. There is still distrust of the Church and State on the part of the Indigenous Maya community which still endures difficulty and discrimination. Sadly, there is little faith that elections due next month will significantly alter the situation. Reports of vote buying tactics on the part of some candidates and other corruption abound.   

Hugo is my dance teacher. He is a compact, tiny little ball of energy with a glorious smile and some killer moves, whose warmth and encouragement are a joy. He listens when I tell him I don’t want to be technically good, but I want to be able to dance confidently and have fun. My dance class is the highlight of my day. Hugo glides across the dance floor and I follow, more elegantly some times, than others but always happy to repeat and continue because it is so much fun. Today I asked Hugo about his dreams. He told me it is to write a book and keep teaching and building up his studio because he wants to encourage and inspire others to believe that anything is possible. He tells me that after dancing for only a short time, he was invited to compete in Antigua some hours away. He almost didn’t go because he didn’t even have enough money for the bus fare. He danced without shoes and slept in the park and in an ATM booth, so embarrassed about his situation that when he met a friend he told them that he had been robbed! Looking at this confident and generous young man now, it is hard to believe that all this happened just 18 months ago.

Chicabal is a sacred Mayan site, a couple of hours away from Xela which I visit with a small group and local guide. The lake is 612 steps down into a crater on top of a hill and the hike there is a tiring gradual ascent through forest and small villages. It is good to be out of Xela and in nature again. The group is an interesting bunch and we get on well and our guide tells us of the significance of the lake to the Mayan people and of the rituals and ceremonies that take place even today. When we arrive at the look-out on top of the lake there is an eerie silence and the lake is invisible, shrouded in thick fog.  

We climb silently down into the crater and sit respectfully in front of an altar of flowers for a while, disappointed that the lake is not visible. Our guide tells us to be patient and that the situation can change completely in just 5 minutes. I only half believe him and am happy to sit in silent meditation when miraculously the fog lifts and reveals the lake, and then just as quickly, while we watch it covers the lake entirely again.

It’s Sunday morning and the safest time to go to visit the cemetery in Xela.

The huge burial site is dotted with interesting tombstones and rows of colourful memorials. We make our way to Vanushka’s tomb, a famous shrine covered in flowers and messages dedicated to the young woman who supposedly died of a broken heart!

It is a strangely peaceful place in the morning sun. We pass family groups and people selling food and others sweeping and cutting long grass away from burial sites. I see people crouched in prayer and children playing among the tombstones and a man on a bike with a toothy grin says hello. We climb some steps that lead to an old overgrown part of the sprawling site and look out across the huge expanse and in the distance a cloud covered hill looks down over us all like a silent sentry.

I meet with Yully, the psychologist today. She is a bubbly, energetic woman with a beaming smile who loves Frankl and Freud and is happy to tell me about her work with the Red Cross. She tells me of the significant number of people in the community with mental health issues and the lack of resources to help them. She has negotiated with the one psychiatrist in town to provide services to poor patients for a nominal fee but the cost of medication is approximately 100 AUD per script. She is working on a project to set up a day hospital to provide individual and group therapy for patients with dementia and psychoses offering various therapies and programs of support. She is doing all of this on a voluntary basis in addition to her work with the Red Cross.

The aromas from Artesan are inviting and not disappointing. Carlos, the owner, is a shy, gentle chap and an amazing baker and cook. His small café is my favourite spot for lunch. The salads, toasted sandwiches and soups are fresh and delicious and it is the one place in town where I can confidently eat healthy food. I am sitting on my own doing some study and thinking about the next few days.

It is my last week in Xela. Next Monday I will take a bus and head back across the border to Mexico. Thursday I will do an overnight trip to Lake Aitlan to visit a couple of small

communities but otherwise I will stay here in Xela doing my Spanish and salsa and getting to know this place and myself a little more.

Hasta luego

Mon x  

www.proyectochakana.org  fascinating project recording short films of a journey from Mexico to Argentina

http://www.celasmaya.edu.gt one of the many Spanish schools in Xela offering a comprehensive program including activities and home stay

http://www.entremundos.org/en/index.html umbrella organisation that can link volunteers to projects

http://www.pop-wuj.org/ another language school that offers programs for medical, teaching and social work volunteers