Across borders and back again: A Too Long Account Embarked Upon Due to a Novel's Voice

Pues, we decided cave tubing was a bit too pricey, headed off for Guatemala on Thursday, and were so glad we did! It was a little mind-bending to cross just a few feet from one side of the border to the other, and be in such completely different territory. English dissolved, Kriol disappeared, currency shifted into a 7:1 exchange rate (on the US $) with a pretty name (Quetzales), women in Quecha clothing materialized at myriad little stops that sold traditional crafts--- it was a wondrous thing indeed. (Incidentally, I have recently been steeped in a book set in the 1800s, so pay no mind to the occasional archaic verbiage that seems to be seeping from there into my musings).

We braved the drizzling rain to wait for a bus, despite numerous predictions (by taxi drivers:)) that there would be no buses today, Holy Thursday and we simply must take a cab. Our microbus did appear, however, and we bumped along with our ever-increasing numbers (the rows had seats that folded down into the aisles to maximize the space completely; just when we seemed totally full, someone else would climb aboard and find a space between two shoulders) all the way to El Remate. We had a great (even moreso b/c it was so cheap!) lunch as we looked out over the lake and enjoyed being immersed again in Spanish.

Then it was off to Tikal, the "Capital of the Mayan World"-- and it was as impressive as any world capital should be! (even if overgrown by the jungle, but I like to think that only amplified its grandeur). I confess I was expecting "just another Mayan ruin," but I couldn't have been more wrong. Tikal is a whole city lying under the jungle, nestled in a national park full of trails and sights to be seen. We hiked around for several hours, impressed by the mystery, largesse, and sheer abundance of the ruins, and startled and delighted by all the wildlife: coatimundi (cousin to the racoon), toucans, wild turkey with iridescence like peacocks, buzzards, spider monkeys crashing thru the treetops, the guttural territory calls of howler monkeys, parrots twirling over the whole landscape as we sat at the crest of the tallest temple and took in the scene. Not to mention the Ceiba! Guatemala's national tree and such a strange, gigantic, gorgeous thing, with roots that, as Adam said, seemed to have started growing before the tree reached the ground, as if someone planted it suspended over the Earth and the roots grew down to meet it. Sparse bleached branches splashed with vegetation like sea urchins, and dotted with the flash and song of parrots and toucans.

Slightly apparent I was (we were) a little enraptured?
But the park did close in the evening and we found our escort (coincidentally the same friendly chauffeur who had brought us) to take us to the small island town of Flores (really it's a peninsula). We found food and a room with a sweet hostess, at Hotel El Faisan, housed over a craft shop. We walked around town a bit in the evening, then called it a night. We were lazy the next day and slept in (I am still fighting a cold and find myself easily tired), then were excited to discover that there was a cave not far from Flores that would be easy to go explore. So we got to see our caves after all! I forget the name of it, but it was set way back from the road, through a village, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and we spent a couple hours traversing its innards. If we had had a more reliable flashlight (the one we borrowed was prone to flicker just as we discovered that what we thought was a wall actually gave way to a crevice we could slip through and find a whole of expanse of rocky room behind), we would have ventured deeper, but nonetheless we satisfied our sense of adventure for the day I think.

We walked back to Flores just in time to see the preparation for the Good Friday processions. Streets were blocked off so groups from different neighborhoods, parishes, or schools could set about preparing their offering of street art. The results were impressive! Paintings made of colored sawdust and flower petals, sometimes palm leaves, materialized on the pavement. We stopped to ask one group how long they had been working-- "Since 2am today. It will be done in time for the procession at 5."

We made our way to the central plaza and watched three floats be carried out of the church. It was the procession of the Holy Burial; the statue of Jesus atop a silken bed that suggested a boat was the first to emerge from the sanctuary, carried on the shoulders of some 20 men. Just as I remembered from my Easter in Spain, their slow small steps set him rocking slightly back and forth and I couldn't help swaying to the same rhythm as I watched. Next came Mary, carried by the women of the church, who braved the weight and the cobblestone streets wearing smiling faces and high heels! Mary Magdelane was hoisted down the steps and around the plaza by the young women in the congregation, who passed their responsibility onto their elder sisters once they crossed with the procession into the main street. Finally came John the Baptist, a small float carried by just four young men, one at each corner. Leading the way for the whole endeavor were the alter boys and girls, 5 of them I think, dressed in white robes with red sashes, swirling along in their clouds of incense to sanctify the way for all that followed. And I have forgotten the band! They came right after Jesus' pallbearers, keeping time with the drum, or providing a song. Adam and I followed with the crowd who accompanied the procession. I hurried ahead at one point, wanting to see what would become of the intricate sawdust Jesus around the corner when the street congregation came upon it. The procession paused at its border, took it in, then continued on in its rocking, shuffling steps, smudging the Christ's face and carrying the colored dust out onto the stones further ahead in the path. At some point, the long extension cord was plugged in to the generator that brought up the rear of the twilight parade, and Jesus' boat was set aglow.

Adam and I contemplated and appreciated being fringe participants in this ritual for a while, then went to satify our hunger. Raquelita-- I had my first parrillada! That is, impressive amounts of grilled meat, Argentine style. Surely not as good as the "real thing," but delicious nonetheless, especially when accompanied by a heaping plate of sweet fresh fruit.

To end our evening of extravagant displays (in both nature and ceremony), our next stop was to the circus! A whole family performed acrobatics, juggling, slapstick humor, and other physical feats for us. My favorite part was watching the littlest member in training-- the youngest boy, about 5yo, trusted his brothers and his own daring to be thrown from one trapeze to the other, and then jump back to the empty swing on his own before swinging onto the platform where his big brothers caught him again. The audience applauded for him the loudest.

This morning I left Adam in the beautiful little town by the lake where he will start an intensive Spanish program on Monday. I had a peaceful bus ride back to Orange Walk, immersed mostly in the passing countryside and also the imaginary landscape of Nantucket and Kentucky, where the protoganist of my book spins her memoir and apparently effects also the tone of this blog. I have just met Nancy's friend Debbie who is here to visit for the week. We will go to San Pedro on Wednesday and lounge about some more before starting school again. I am thinking often of my classmates who finish their internships very soon, and hope you all are enjoying the closing of one thing and the return to the familiar before the beginning of many many more. I am thinking also of my family; my dad's father is in Hospice House and not doing well. It seems strange that I will stay here while classmates and family gather together. But I am also hopeful that my staying will mean that my time here was more worthy of the students I work with.

Now I must quit my rambling and get back to the normalcies of this region of my familiar-yet-still-new life---- cooking dinner. Tomorrow I drop back into Orange Walk routine for a bit and go to pick up Evelyn for church. Nancy says she was thrilled to have Sulmi and Kristel at her birthday party and had little interest in the rest of her classmates (from her other school). Maybe her parents will see how happy she is with Deaf peers and think again about sending her to Nancy's class. I can only hope.

I'm off now,
Much love.