if i were a travel writer...

Gallery: Antigua

ladyd — Fri, 18 Apr 2008 01:56:00 GMT

sola y soltera.

ladyd — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 13:02:00 GMT

Hola. I am back, and in the process of uploading my many photos. But I figured I'd send on my last little (well, epic) entry in the meantime... Mis ultimos tres dias en Guatmala... and you thought I'd keep you hanging? Me encanta bus rides. And it's a good thing too because in the last 72 hours of my trip, I spent casi 20 hours in some sort of bus getting to or from somewhere. I realized that I'm not the only one in Guatemala that has no concept of time. It seems Guatemaltecos, too, don't have any sense of how long anything takes. The bus trip from Antigua to Rio Dulce, for example, me dijo que dura 5 horas y que va a llegar a las 6;00pm. La realidad es que llego a las 8:30pm. For the first part of the bus trip (not the first half, just the first bus from Antigua to Guatemala City, which was about an hour), I sat right behind the driver with the window open, watching the scene change from cobblestoned streets and beautifully colored homes (this guy I met with a "thursday" shirt on in the cafe told me that Antigua controls what color people paint their homes - no wonder it's all so beautiful!) to the locura that is Guatemala City. I soon realized that my lungs were filled with exhaust and thought I best sit by a closed window on the next bus ride from the city to Rio Dulce. The next bus ride was about 6 hours long. But as I said before, I am beginning to really enjoy the time that a long commute gives me to think and be, with myself. And it's also, honestly, (I think) one of the best ways to learn about the people of a country. I know I felt that way in Asia, and Central America is no different except that I can actually communicate with the people as opposed to just using body language as we did in Asia. For part of the journey, a guatemalteca dressed in a pink and grey plaid shirt and matching capris sat next to me. I thought she was beautiful, with her copper eye shadow and burnt red lipstick. I can't remember the last time I really put on some makeup! I thought our conversation was doomed once she told me her second husband left her to go to the US and get married to an American girl. I almost wanted to lied to her when she asked me, "De donde eres?," but I didn't. She still kept her smile and warm presence, advising me that it's better to be single. I laughed, it always seems the grass is greener on the other side. But I guess she's been on both sides and still feels soltera es mejor. She got off right before our big 15-20 minute break at the gas station/cafeteria/bathrooms. Well, they told us it would be a 10 minute break, but at 15 minutes, the driver and his assistant were sitting at the cafe having a sandwich and soda. Oh well, que puede hacer? I ended up meeting an English couple who had been in San Marcos for 5 weeks prior - definitely could sense that they came from the "energy vortex" of Lake Atitlan. They were probably in their 60's and have obviously traveled a ton. One of their next stops was working on an organic farm in Ireland, that was also a spiritual community of some sort. How interesting their life together must be. Then there was this young Australian couple - Melanie and Mateo - that have been dating for a year and since Mateo hasn't traveled much, they saved money and decided to take about a year to see Central and South America. And then there was Leopaulo, a solo traveler from Spain (from the region between Basque and Asturias), who quit his job on a boat and decided to use the money he saved to travel, rather than buy a house. I swear, if my mother had met Leo, she would've paid a dowery (I'm sure she has considered going to these measures) to have him bring me back to Spain and marry him. A Fortunately for me and the Australian couple, Leo is really good at negotiating hostel prices. Once we arrived in the run-down Rio Dulce, after being hassled by several guys trying to bring us to "the best hotel," Leo was able to find one off the main road for us at Q50/person. By the way, the name Rio Dulce - sweet river - is quite misleading. There was a fair in the town under the bridge, so Leo and I went to explore it and the town before heading to bed. I can compare it to Camden, NJ or maybe Newark on the last night of the Portuguese feast when just the shady or really loud people are left celebrating. Well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but let's just say I was grateful to actually have a traveling companion, a male one. We got a kick out of some of the carnival games - one had 5 large plates floating in wather and you have to throw Q1 coin and try to have it land on the plate. Not a bad concept for a game - but the prize was either 2 cans of soda (if the Q hit one plate before landing on another) or a liter of soda (if the Q landed directly on just one plate and stayed). We tried, but neither of us were able to do it. I guess, being that I don't like soda, there wasn't much incentive to keep playing! And then there were the rides... which were more like death traps than my first car, "Rusty," teh '82 Oldsmobile Omega. Not even to just the people on the rides, but there were no gates to protect the people as they walked by, as the ride was spinning over the pedestrian walkway. No rules, yet somehow, it works. We decide after the 7 hours of traveling, we should get something to eat and figure it's probably cheapest at the fair, so we take a seat in a big tent with tables... and there's a mini-stage with 2 couples dancing (or humping) to the reggaeton that is blaring through the speakers... and there's about 20-30 people standing in a line, just watching, policeman including. There's also about 6 TV screens, half showing a bullfight/rodeo and the others a series of really ghetto music videos. They are only serving one type of comida, so we order that - the smallest portion possible, which isn't that small and actually arrives on one of those large plates that they were using for the Q1 coin/soda toss game. The mini tortilla chicken tacos are good, and the cold gallo (cerveza) is even better, because it is so hot outside in Rio Dulce, even at 10:30pm. Leo and I can pretty much only look at each other, the music so loud it's hard to think, let alone hear each other. By our second gallo, the stage crowd disappeared and the music turned from reggaeton to a slower, calmer genre... and so, I was able to actually talk to my new friend. I never knew so many people had an interest in working on boats (I had met an american on volcan pacaya that was traveling to Panama to work on boats), and I had never realized how many different types of boats there were en el mundo. We continued, speaking about family, living in the city, saving money, his decision to travel vs. buy a house, work, priorities at age 28-29, language, Granada!... and I realized something that has happened quite a few times on this trip - that the brief encounters with people you only "know" for a few hours as you both pass through the same place for this brief shared moment in time, are deeper than most of the "surface" encounters I have with acquaintances back home. I wonder why that is? Anyway, we head back to our room and right before we go to bed, Leo says, "que te suenes con los angelitos," just like Laura (my Spanish roommate in Granada used to say to me). And I think, how nice it is to not be sola, in Rio Dulce. I wake up as the sun rises (and the rooster crows) and take a 5 minute (cold) shower and am ready to make my trip to Finca del Paraiso and secure my bus ride back to Antigua. It's my last full day in this country =( and after my experience on the bus to Rio Dulce, I'm feeling pretty doubtful that I will make it back to Antigua in time... and a part of me is wondering why in the world I traveled 8 hours to Rio Dulce knowing I'd have to make the return trip the following day. Que sera, sera. I have a pretty difficult time getting my ticket to Guate City (they don't go directly to Antigua), changing my dollars to quetzal (because I am down to Q20) and finding my "bus" to Finca del Paraiso. But, by 8:00am, I am on a shuttle, a little nervous that I may not make it back for my 1:00pm bus back to Guatemala City (and even more nervous that once I arrive in Guatemala City, I won't be able to get a bus back to Antigua), but I go. Afterall, I came all this way, I may as well go see what I came to see - which is the hot spring waterfall, "one of Guatemala's greatest natural phenomenas." One guy told me the ride was 30 minutes, another one and a half hours, so at this point, I don't know what to expect, which makes me even more nervous. But I go with it. Guatemalans have been pretty nice to me and although there's always this moment of, "should I trust them?," I usually decide to remain as naive and trusting as I generally am in the States, which luckily has worked out for me. They drop me off at this parada and I give these 2 guys Q10 as an entrance to the waterfall, and Francisco - my guide - takes me on a 10 minute hike to the hot spring waterfall. When I arrive, there's only 5 others there. An Australian girl, her boyfriend from Panama, her mother, her mother's friend, and their guide. I teach Francisco how to use my camera, take a photo of him and his guide friend and climb down the rocks to the water. It's cold at first, but then as you near the falls, there are patches of hot (not that warm patch you get when you're swimming through pee in the ocean) water... and it's so hot, it's like a sauna hot. And I just float on my back, in this hot water, looking up at the trees around me and the water falling off a cliff next to me... and realizing that the others have left... and it's just me, in this space - in this natural and beautiful place. And I wonder how it's not packed with people who live nearby... because if there's such beauty and such peace so close, why wouldn't they be here? But then I think how lucky I am to not be sharing this moment, in such natural and peaceful beauty, with anyone else... except Francisco, who when I looked up, was waving me in. He was a bit paranoid of the wind and leaves from the trees above falling down on me. I appreciated his concern and decided to get out, change and make the 10 minute hike back and wait for the next bus back to Rio Dulce, which luckily, came very quickly. The terrain out there is really different. We passed these green pastures with all these cows grazing, and then in the middle of the green were these trees that resembled palm trees - I'd call it a tropical countryside, if one existed. I don't know if it's because we were so close to Belize, but it was just beautiful... and then we arrived back in Rio Dulce. I ran back to the bus station to catch the 11:00am bus instead of the 1:00pm bus I originally purchased that morning. The guy collecting tickets said, NO - that the bus was full, but somehow I sweet talked him into letting me on (don't ask me how I managed that one). He probably had the last laugh, though, because I had to stand for the first 45 minutes of the trip. It's like 10 times worse than standing on a crowded Blvd. East bus to Port Authority in the morning commute when you're stuck on the helix - except we're not stuck... we're moving... pretty fast... and they don't make turns with us in mind... and the fact that Jeremy's "drivers license" is just a copy of his passport all seems to make sense at this moment. I look down and there are 2 women - one with 3 small children laying on top of her... the other is sleeping, with her breast exposed, holding a tiny baby who is making her way to her "food" every few minutes. I think, I'm probably more comfortable standing. I finally get a seat, which is a good thing, because we make a stop and a flood of vendors come into the bus (earlier they were just outside the window like papparazzi not trying to get photos, but trying to get quetzal... and get rid of what they were selling) - "agua... papaya... mango... pan de pina... para llevar a su casita..." These vendors are some of the best salespeople I've seen in awhile... and it's actually convenient for people who can't get to the market because they are on a bus. I had gotten 3 sweet breads in Rio Dulce, so I was good for the trip... but that pina did look good. We arrive at the bus terminal in Guate City by 5:00pm (yes!) and I get ambushed, as usual, by cab drivers and people wanting to set me up with a hotel, bus, tuk tuk, horse, anything. I say, "NO gracias" and walk myself to the ticket booth. They tell me there are no buses to Antigua at this terminal... because there are 3 terminals in Guatemala City. Great, just great. I walk out of the ticket office, looking for one of those guys who tried to ambush me with information. Instead, I find a Canadian guy, a German girl and another girl from Norway. Out of us all, I speak the best Spanish (for once) and so negotiate a Q20 cab ride to Barrio 3 terminal, where we are told we can get a bus to Antigua. The Canadian/Norwegian pareja travel in one cab and I travel in another with the very paranoid German girl. She's telling me how she doesn't feel safe in Guatemala and how she heard you should never, ever leave the bus terminal in Guate City. And I'm thinking - Geez, how do you expect to get back to Antigua, girl??? We get there (safely) 5 minutes before the other cab and she's freaking out (because she thinks she'll never see her friends again) and also, because she realizes we are making the trip on a chicken bus. Guatemala City is crazy. It's crazier than the chaos of Hanoi, Vietnam that was filled with honking motorcycles and essentially no traffic system. In Guatemala City, as I looked out of the chicken bus window, as we approached the highway, I saw a traffic jam of the crazily painted chicken buses mixed with pedestrians climbing over the highway dividers and walking between the exhaust pumping buses... and in the middle of it all, there were 2 blonde gringos riding their bikes through the madness. Are you kidding me? In a few minutes, without the bus even really stopping, I see the 2 Canadians get on the bus... their bikes already on the top of the chicken bus. The bus fills up - I swear, this is pretty much a schoolbus, yet 3 people sit across each seat and they keep letting more and more people on. At one point, I looked out the window and there were 3 men holding on to the outside of the bus... while it was moving... on the highway. Absolute madness. As we approach Antigua - and I know we've arrived once the pavement turns into cobblestone - I'm able to talk to one of the 2 Canadian boys and try to figure out why in the world they were riding their bikes in the middle of the chicken bus madness. He tells me they are both turning 30 this year and as part of the BIG year, they decided to bike from Panama to Cancun, although they are realizing that a month is not quite enough time and have spent a lot of time on buses, finding their bikes to be quite a hassle. I could just imagine. How awesome of an idea, though, even if they fully can't fulfill it. I end up having dinner with the Canadian boys, another couple and Jean - a 24 year old girl from Long Island who just finished 2 years in the Peace Corps in Peru and is making her way back home, but taking her time. Just listening to her stories, I am so impressed with the experiences she's had in only 24 years. We went for some Mayan Hot Chocolate (made from the chocolate bar, although Mom - yours is better) at one of the hostel/bars, Jungle Party. We start talking to the owner, a young architect from El Salvador and she explained how she opened the hostel with no money, and now - it's one of the most popular hostels in Antigua among backpackers. I guess sometimes, all you do need is only a dream. There were 2 colombian men staying at the hostel with 2 huge motorcycles. They are riding from Colombia to Canada. What a journey. What a dream. Que viaje. Que sueno.

letting go.

ladyd — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 12:59:00 GMT

So, I left the internet cafe just over an hour ago, thinking to myself what a hollow email I had sent out to you all. I thought perhaps I got caught up in the city of Antigua and the wedding weekend and wasn´t spending the time journaling and reflecting on my experiences... or maybe it´s because Jeremy walked into the internet cafe and distracted me. But that sort of thing happens. It happens so much back home, that I guess it´s natural - Guatemala feeling so much like home - to happen here. So, I missed my bus. I got totally confused with my 9am bus on Wednesday to the airport and thought that today´s bus left at 9am, but really... it left at 7:30am. So, after standing outside Kafka waiting for my bus around 9:05am, I decided to take a look at my ticket, and realized my mistake. This whole mix-up probably doesn´t even surprise most of you, knowing me like you do. Anyway, I went over to the turismo office where I purchased my ticket and the guy pretty much said, (in Spanish), ¨well, that sucks... and it sucks for me to because I´m out of (whatever amount of) quetzal too.¨ I asked him if there was ANYWHERE else I could go for a night, and he was like - ¨no, all buses for ANYWHERE in Guatemala leave at the latest, 8am.¨ Thanks hombre. So, I walk to another oficina del turismo and explain that me perdí the bus to Rio Dulce and I really want to go somewhere other than Antigua for the night since I leave on Wednesday... and is there ANYWHERE not to far away that I can get to TODAY. And we come up with Pana - and for a second I think, ¨Hey, I can go back to San Marcos for a night.¨ I swear, the energy vortex of the world was calling me back. But then I saw a ray of light... of hope... (okay, I´m exaggerating)... but I saw that there was a 1pm bus to Rio Dulce!!! Sure, it arrives there around 6pm, but still, I´ll get there. So, I lost the Q225 that I originally paid for the 7:30am trip and paid another Q125. (I knew that first guy was ripping me off!) And now I´m pretty much all out of quetzal. But hopefully, not out of dollars in my bank. So, time. I haven´t read much more of The Power of Now, but in reading just the first 3 chapters, there is a lot of discussion about time. And how the only moment that exists is what is happening at this very moment. And the past was a moment that happened in the Now... and the future is a moment that will happen in the Now. And so, the Now is the only moment that really matters. And yesterday, on the ride back from the Pacaya Volcano, as my mind started to wander to the past and the future, I realized it was the first time I really have done that since I have been here. And that´s odd for me, someone who is usually thinking about what happened in the past and how it could be different, and how that would affect the future and how I... blah, blah, blah. It seems to have happened somewhere at the Lake, when I just allowed myself to be. And that´s also when I lost track of the time, and the days, and the week that has passed. I was shocked to learn that today was April 14 - it could have been March or June for all I know. And as we know from me missing my bus this morning, I have absolutely no concept of time here, which you may think is not unlike back home. But it´s different. And it´s not even like the experiences I have had being on vacation before, when you´re sitting on a beach or exploring ruins and churches - yes, vacation is usually always associated with escaping the rigid time frames and responsibilites that we have in our daily, normal lives. But, Guatemala, for me, doesn´t feel like it´s some escape. I didn´t realize it at the time, although I think some of you realized it as you were reading my emails, but something happened in me while I was here. And it´s something that has been stirring within me since I had my ¨you´re-turning-28-what-are-you-doing-with-your-life-crisis¨ about two months ago. I hate to bring it back to my vision board, but in all honesty, that overwhelming collage of photos and quotes, is really making a lot of sense to me right now. Walking down the street, with a tote bag I borrowed from Kate, filled with clothes and ¨stuff¨ for my overnight trip to Rio Dulce, I thought how nice to just have that - that tote bag, filled with the things I needed. There was a Swedish girl who shared the room with me last night. She left this morning at 3am for a flight back home after being in Guatemala for one year. She had one backpack, a smaller duffel bag and a little plastic bag. And she thought it was too much. I showed her my bag and had her guess how long my stay was in Guatemala. Ridiculous. But she learned to let go, she said. To let go of ¨things,¨ that she realized just didn´t matter in the grand scheme of things. And I bet she was no more than 20 years old. But that´s what traveling does, at least traveling like these young backpackers are doing. It just puts a lot of ¨things¨ in perspective, that for someone who isn´t on that type of journey through life, it may take years - even a lifetime, to realize, that some things just don´t matter. I´m letting go of control - yoga at los Piramades, sleeping on a hammock during a thunderstorm, rebalancing the energy within me through an exercise as simple as uncurling my ears (ask me for a demonstration when I get home), even the act of throwing up on Friday night in San Pedro was letting go of having some control in my life. I realize how tense my stomach is on a daily basis and I consciously have to let go of that tension and the sense that I do have some control in this life. Because I don´t, I know I don´t. I can control my thoughts, which control my feelings (or maybe sometimes, the other way around), but I realize that some things are just meant to happen. I was meant to pass Happy Tacos that day, which led me to the Animal Clinic... It was meant to rain on Kate´s wedding day... and I´d like to think that I was meant to miss that 7:30am bus, for whatever reason. I attached some photographs that I took for the wedding and the few that I have with Kate and myself. The funny thing about traveling solo, is that you rarely have photos of you. It´s like people could wonder if you were actually even there. Trust me, I was. But most of the time, it´s more fun for me to be on the other side of the camera. I wish I had my photos from the volcano on CD already. There were these amazing horses that were practically posing for pictures as we came up on the hill overlooking a sun that was about to set. Anyway, I hope you can view the attached photos and begin to realize the beauty of this place. But I don´t even think the pictures can capture it fully.

first comes love, then comes marriage: wedding wknd in antigua.

ladyd — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 10:56:00 GMT

There were three weddings in Antigua on Saturday. One, of course, was Kate and Andres... another was the owner of this Irish bar here called Reilly´s... and another was a couple from California who recently moved here and somehow got over 200 people from the West Coast over to Central America. It was hard to miss the flood of blondes and dudes from California come into this colonial city, especially when I was hanging out at the gringo-filled Mono Loco and No Sé Cafe the night before. I still was impressed by how this California couple got so many people to attend their wedding here in Antigua. It was funny though, when I said I was in town for a wedding, people immediately thought I was part of the ¨Reilly¨ party at the Cathedral or the ¨California¨ party. Instead, I was part of the wedding that would take place on a park bench in Parque Central. I have had my share of wedding experiences.... I have been a guest... been a bridesmaid (more than three times)... and been a maid of honor (twice)... but I have never had the pleasure of taking on the role of ¨wedding photographer¨ or the honor of being the sole ¨witness¨... that is, until Saturday. I also thought I had met the calmest bride ever at Michele and Dillon´s wedding last year in California. Not to say you two aren´t still the chillest of all couples, but I must say Kate and Andres were extremely calm and relaxed about the whole thing. I mean, I have seen Kate in a totally different place, living with her in Manhattan only a year ago, and seeing her go through the drama of those ¨relationships¨ we all so easily seem to fall into in a city like New York. And now, here she is, completely ¨tranquila.¨ I actually went to a coffee tour in the morning and rushed back because Andres and Kate were meeting me at 1:30pm at Kafka (my hostel) so we could walk over to the park and meet the lawyer who would perform the civil marriage. There was a little delay, but eventually they met me - Kate dressed in a teal & ivory floral dress that I forced her to buy for the special occasion, holding a bouquet of vibrant bright flowers, typical of Guatemala. I walked behind them, taking photographs, asking them to stop at certain points, until we arrived at the Park. I swear, it is difficult to take a bad photograph in Antigua. The setting is absolutely beautiful, with cobblestoned streets and houses painted in these beautiful colors - blue, yellow, red - but not the typical ¨Crayola¨ blue, yellow or red - it´s this extremely vibrant hue that blends with the stone and creates this energy but with an antiquey feel. I don´t know if that makes any sense, and I don´t even know if the pictures will do it as much justice, but I´ll try to send some over for you to see. Anyway, the abogado arrived and sat with Kate and Andres on a park bench under this beautiful tree, with the fountain and cathedral in the background. He went over all the documents and responsibilities of a husband and wife, and they exchanged their, ¨Sí¨ and we signed - the bride, the groom, the witness (me) and the abogado... and Kate was officially, Mrs. Kate Berrio. Andres went to the store to get 4 beers and we had a toast in the park, and then some of Kate´s friends from her volunteer job and some of Andres´ friends from the Cuban restaurant came by to congratulate them. We walked around a little more, taking some more photographs, and then Kate and I took some other photographs and we made our way back to their apartment... as it started to rain... and all we could do, was sing ¨it´s like raaaaiiiin, on your wedding day...¨ Yeah, a gringa bride and her friend singing Alanis Morrisette in the rain. I´m sure it was a sight to see. So, the wedding day continued with Andres making us dinner (the three of us and two of Andres´ friends). Since it was raining, we moved the Rooftop Reception down into Kate and Andres´ apartment, which is comparable to a very small NYC studio. We had dinner, cut the wedding cake, had Kate and Andres feed each other the cake, and got ready for a night of dancing at the Cuban salsa club where Kate and Andres first met in December. Honestly, for an ¨untraditional¨ wedding, we did get "it" all in - Kate and I went for manicures/pedicures the day before, we took the typical wedding photographs, they exchanged vows and then kissed, a toast, dinner, cake, dancing. I mean, sitting in her apartment, watching Mr. Berrio cook dinner for his wife and friends, I thought - ¨this is a pretty cool wedding and I am so glad I am a part of it.¨ Not that family wasn´t missed - as soon as we left the park, we did run to the phones and call both Mr. & Mrs. Buckholz in the US and Andres´ family in Colombia - but having a small wedding really helps you to focus on what it is that a wedding really is. Not that I have any idea =) but I have observed many a wedding, and have been through the moments prior to a wedding with a lot of good friends. So, anyway, we spent the night with some salsa dancing... and yes, if I ever need a husband, I´m sure you will all be relieved to know that there´s a Cuban drummer/singer that is "esperando para mi", however long it takes. We stayed at the cuban restaurant/bar after closing (after party!) and the owners made us cuban sandwiches and yucca... and it just seemed like the perfect ending to what I thought was a pretty perfect wedding day. The next afternoon Mr. & Mrs. Berrio invited me over to the apartment for a traditional Colombian dish, sancocho. Fortunately for Andres, it also is known to be a good cure for hangovers. Anyway, it was delicious - it almost made me want to start cooking myself, almost. I left their apartment around 1pm and made my way back to my hostel (I finally know my way around!) to leave for a trip up the Pacaya Volcano, which is (I think) the most active volcano in Central America. The hike was pretty tough but I´d like to think the hills of San Marcos prepared me a bit for it. It was so interesting to feel the terrain under my feet change from cobblestones, to this dense dirt, to little rock pebbles, to the lava from the volcano. Getting up to the top at sunset was beautiful. Along the way, there were horses and of course, the dogs that just followed us all the way up to the top. We roasted marshmallows (have you ever had a strawberry one? not my favorite) and just marveled at the fact that we were standing on top of a bunch of lava. Sometimes you´d just be walking from one ¨rock¨ to another and would feel this immense heat, only to find that there was active lava right under you. I thought again about the lack of rules here - I mean, I didn´t sign any waiver or anything to come up here - and yet, even the guy who climbed all the way up there in sandals, was fine. The walk down, unlike San Marcos, was not as bad as the walk up... maybe because I had a walking stick this time, a fine one. And as it started getting dark, we were all prepared with flashlights which the ninos and the bottom of the hike tried to take anyway from us - ¨light for me?¨ they would ask. I gave them my stick, and kept my luz. So now, I´m minutes away from getting on a bus to Rio Dulce - how sweet does that sound? It´s a bit of a trip - leaving here at 9am and only arriving there at 3pm... and it´s only for a noche, but I wanted to try to see as much as I could while I was here. I will be back in Antigua on Tuesday evening for my last night before my flight back home on Wednesday. I can´t believe I have only been here only a week. It is like time doesn´t exist here, in a way. And I know I didn´t write much about San Pedro. I went out for dinner (and a movie) but woke up in the middle of the night to what sounded like someone was gargling. Realizing that it was my stomach making all the noise, I spent most of the night vomiting and just being sick. At least it was the one night I had a private bathroom in my room. There´s a time when it is not fun to travel solo - when you feel like you´re going to die and you realize you are completely alone in some random village. But by sunrise, luckily, I was able to eat some pan and be on my way back to Antigua. And so, it goes...

first the magic, then the party

ladyd — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 21:51:00 GMT

I just want to thank all of you who responded to that first novel of an email. Your perspectives on life are so relative to me right here and I appreciate you sharing them with me. And thank you for reminding me that there are no true coincidences in life. I have decided that San Marcos was not so much coincidental (although more and more of those crazy ironic things kept happening), but I will always look back on it as a magical place. As a matter of fact, today was the first time I took off my (prescription) sunglasses during the day while looking at Lake Atitlan. Seriously, this lake keeps changing... or maybe it is me who is changing and seeing it differently each time I look at it. But this morning, waking up on a hammock on the second floor of a veterinarian office (don't ask... you know I'll tell you anyway!), I thought the lake looked mysterious. Later in the day, as I took the boat from San Marcos to San Pedro, it still looked dark, but intriguing. It is so interesting how the clouds are still over the mountain and volcano tops. It is as if they are protecting them, in some way. At times when I am on the lake, I have some flashbacks of Halong Bay, which was one of the most peaceful memories I have from my Vietnam trip. But this lake, as I mentioned before, is different - it's moody. And today, sitting on the top tier of the boat back to San Pedro from Santiago, I took my sunglasses off and all of a sudden it was like this blue purple hue was coming up from the lake and it just felt like I was in this magical place. San Marcos. That is definitely a magical place. I swear, I tried to leave there yesterday for fear that I would get "stuck" there and never leave. But I got back to my hotel two hours after check out and they told me I would have to pay for it, even if I did leave. So, eventhough the room was only Q80 (probably equivalent to $11-12), I thought I was running fairly low on my quetzal (there are no ATM machines in San Marcos) and should probably just stay put in San Marcos for another evening. I asked for a map and decided to explore the other two Barrios (1 & 2) before it got dark. I came across a place I heard the three California boys talking about - Happy Taco - 2 tacos for Q10. ¿Are you kidding me? I walked by once and thought about how hungry I was and how cheap Q10 was, and made a U-turn for some tacos. I saw this guy inside that I assumed worked there and asked, ¿Puedo comer? He was completely confused and eventually pulled up a chair and said, "Sure, you can eat with me." So, I sat down and kind of laughed about the whole thing - thinking he worked there and asking if I could eat and the whole confusion since he does not really speak Spanish... or English. Yeah, him and his friend (who also joined us at the table) are from France. I swear, even as far from NY as I am, I cannot get away from the French (kidding Jean-Rene). So, anyway, they have their pizza... I have my delicious tacos (which by the way, with a drink only cost Q15 which I think is only $2)... and then they ask me if I want to go check out where they are staying because it is up in the hill and there is a great view of the lake and volcanos. I say, "Sure. As long as I am back before dark... (and turn into a pumpkin, ha)." So we go for this walk. I mean, the hills that we are walking up are comparable to Seattle and San Francisco. And they are cobblestoned, and I can hardly keep from panting, but at the same time, I am trying to talk to my new French friends - Antonio and Benjamin. Finally, we get to a wall that says, "AL CLINICA DE LOS PERROS" and Antonio says, in a French accent, "so, here we are." And of course, I am just floored by the coincidence or fate or whatever it is of being brought up to a dog clinic of all places. I ask to meet the owner and speak to Anna, the vet that was closing up. There are three dogs that live at the clinic/house - Canela (cinnamon), Miel (honey) and the one I named because it was blind in one eye - Ciego. Anyway, she says the biggest problem with the dogs in San Marcos is stomach tumors, but the chemotherapy and/or surgery is so expensive, that not many owners are able to help their pets. Plus, the clinic is so far up the hill (you thought I was kidding!) that it is not very convenient for people to get to with their sick dogs. So sad. So, I go back downstairs to where Antonio and Benjamin are - they have this 23 year old rum that I agree to try and it is actually, very smooth. But the bottle is finished fairly quickly because so many other people begin to arrive. Mind you, all from France, most from Paris. There is Marian (finally another girl to hang out with), her boyfriend El Duende (have no clue what that means), Ingrid (the only Guatemalan), her boyfriend (from France... funny story about how they are actually together. I do not think I will share it here...)... and then enters this older man with a grey beard - they call him the Magician, but I like to think of him as a wizard. He was actually at my hotel during breakfast on the patio and I snuck a photograph of him because he looked so interesting, so of course - why would he not be here at this gathering? The night was filled with conversations in a combination of French, Spanish and the English translations that they were so kind to offer. We drank red wine from Chile.... watched the magician/wizard build a fire in a hollow rock... noticed that although there were no stars in the sky, the lightening bugs in the trees made it look like Christmastime... we spoke about life and traveling and city vs. country life and death and the end of the world and again, life. Antonio made us all a platter of cheese and ham and cooked us a pot of rice with tomatoes and onions... and stabbed 8 forks and spoons in it for us all to share (boy am I glad I am over my germophobe phase). Before I knew it, it was way past the sunset and there was no way I was going to walk back to my hotel, flashlight or not. I do not remember the last time I slept outside... or if I ever have... I definitely do not remember ever sleeping in a hammock... and even if I did, it was not on the second floor of a house overlooking a beautiful lake and volcano. But last night, that is where I was... and I do not know if I even got any sleep because I remember getting up to adjust myself on the hammock... and gauge just how close to the edge of the porch I was... I remember hoping the creaking sounds I heard were not the ropes that were holding my hammock (and me) up... I remember right before the patio lights went off, lifting my sleeping bag and seeing what honestly looked like a cockaroach on my hammock - but it was this really black and really beautiful cockaroach (I swear, I have not gone crazy). I thought twice about even tossing it off the hammock two flights down, but eventually did. Throughout the night, there were sounds of dog fights... and dogs howling... and then the rainstorm... and every time I woke up, I wondered when the sun would rise. That is really what I wanted to see from this second floor hammock. Finally, I heard the roosters crowing and the prayer chants, and knew it was time to wake up. I sat there writing in my journal as the sun was rising. And then I left, as if it was some one-night stand... that I had shared with 7 other people. The walk down the hill was 10 times worse than the walk up the hill. I felt like I was on the expert slope at Camelback Mountain, except the snow was cobblestone and what should have been my skis (in a pizza shape the whole way down) were my sandals. It was even worse watching a Guatemalan man pass me going down like it was no thing. How in the world can people get used to that sort of walk, with no banister or anything at all to hold on to? I was ready to get on my culito and slide the whole way down. But I did not. After all, it was daytime. I get down and find my way back home and decide to sleep for a few hours before the patio opened for breakfast at 8am. Even on comfortable, stationary bed, I felt my body swaying. I hope there are no long-term effects to sleeping on a hammock! Anyway, after breakfast I remember I have a 10am appointment at the Holistic Center with Hazel. They had all different types of massages and therapies and I decided to do this Kinesthiology "thing" - she explained it as a mixture of chiropractic work and Eastern medicine. Basically, she asked me some questions (as perhaps a counselor or "life coach" would) and we set a goal for the session. Then she did some muscle testing... and really, a lot came out. A lot more than I am willing to share here in this big, massive email. But the purpose was to balance all of my energies. And let's just say I feel balanced. And I think that sort of technique is amazing, really. So, I left finally left the "magic" of San Marcos and came here to San Pedro, which has a reputation for being one big "party." I really do not know why I am here. And I do not know exactly where the party is, but I guess the night is young (at least in San Pedro). I took a quick trip over to Santiago Atitlan earlier today so that tomorrow I can head on a 9am bus back to Antigua and meet Kate for some pre-wedding manicures and pedicures. You know, I was thinking (eventhough I am not supposed to be "thinking"), I think I did this trip opposite. Like the author of "eat. pray. love," Elizabeth (can't remember her last name)... it seems like she had the right order down. I mean, I think San Marcos was sort of an "India" for me... and well, San Pedro has the potential to be an "Italy" in a way. But hey, I guess I was meant to pray before eating, so to speak. Trying to keep this one short =) I will be in Antigua tomorrow and Saturday (for the wedding) and will head to either Monterrico (beach on the Pacific) or Coban in Alta Verapaz. We shall see. - Deanna

guatemala, a country of coincidences

ladyd — Wed, 9 Apr 2008 15:43:00 GMT

I honestly can´t believe I have been here in Guatemala for only two days. It feels like a lifetime ago that I left West 4th Street for LaGuardia. My time here so far has been split between the colonial city of Antigua and currently in what they call the ¨New Age centre¨ of San Marcos La Laguna, one of 13 villages that surround El Lago de Atitlan, aka ¨The Lake.¨ And in just these two days, I´ve had so many experiences that on the one had, I couldn´t wait to share them all in an email like this and on the other hand, I kind of wanted to keep it a secret. I guess this place is strange like that. And the many coincidences that I have experienced here, even before I got on the plane, have made me realize that maybe, just maybe, this was the exact moment in time that I was supposed to be in this place. It´s funny but I didn´t even know a place like San Marcos existed in the world. I arrived in Guatemala City, with not much of a plan - just an overpacked backpack (that´s what happens when you put it all together 10 minutes before leaving your apartment), my journal, The Rough Guide to Guatemala, The Power of Now, and both of my cameras. I slept the whole trip from LaGuardia to Fort Lauderdale, and before I knew it, I was on the next flight and was landing in Central America. The airport is fairly small and even at baggage claim (just 2 conveyor belts), there are no signs to let you know which bags are from which flight. So, of course, after about 30 minutes of watching a ton of bags that were not mine pass by, I started to get a little anxious, thinking how I´d do this trip without my bag. But then this band started playing. It was so strange - 2 sets of 5 men playing what I think was a xylophone (a big one) and then another man on the drums. It was honestly, such a warm welcome to the country. And moments later, my overpacked backpack came around on the conveyor belt. I walked outside to find Kate (my former roommate who moved to Guatemala in October) and her fiance Andreas, who she is marrying on Saturday (funny how it worked out that I would be here for it)! We decided to take the chicken buses back to Antigua instead of waiting for Brian & Jeremy to arrive an hour later at the airport - I studied 8 years ago with Brian & Jeremy in Granada, Spain and ironically, Jeremy lives a few blocks away from Kate in Antigua and Brian happened to book his trip at the same time I had to visit Jeremy and his village where he did the Peace Corps two years ago. (By the way, that whole irony is only the beginning of the coincidences). So, after 3 transfers in the very exhaust-filled city of Guate (I swear, comparable to the exhaust-filled city of Hanoi, Vietnam), we arrive in the beautiful city of Antigua. It looks familiar to me - kind of like the streets of Portugal. Very European in style (I suppose it makes sense given the history of the Spanish in Guatemala) but the ¨ruins¨ that are part of a lot of the buildings and churches kind of give it this hurt feel... not a hurt that makes you sad, but just gives you the sense that this place has been impacted or touched by something greater - like the many earthquakes that hit it in the past. Oddly enough, there is a photograph of three men sitting on a white-washed stoop on my vision board for 2008 (¨the ¨girls¨ will know what I´m talking about). Anyway, as I was walking through the city, I thought - ¨my God, this is it.¨ I had no idea why I had originally cut out that photograph and pasted it on my board, but here I was - somewhere that could certainly be the setting for that photgraph. I eventually met with Brian and Jeremy, which even after 8 years, seemed like we were just meeting up at a bar in the Albacin in Granada. But, we weren´t there. We were at this gringo bar called Mono Loco, watching the last college basketball game between Memphis and Kansas (I think). Good game, but I was excited for it to be over and actually feel like I was in Central America rather than some dive bar in the States =) We continued on to another bar, No Se Cafe which believe it or not, Jeremy is a partner. It´s really crazy to look back 8 years ago and try to imagine where a person would be 8 years later. I would never have thought that Jeremy would be exporting tequila from Guatemala to other countries. But he´s happy. And that´s even what I found with Kate. She came here, for some reason. And spending Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning with her and her fiance, I felt like it was normal. It´s natural, it´s what it´s supposed to be. And in a place like Guatemala, it just seems right. I asked Jeremy as he was driving me to my hostel from No Se if he had to take a driving test. He laughed and passed me over his ¨driver´s license¨ which literally was a copy of his passport. Ha. I started to think, there are no rules here. And yet, it works. And really, what are rules good for? I always used to think they were necessary, but honestly I think it´s just because rules help you to know what you can expect. And that´s probably why so many people are bored in their lives or so many of us fear the ultimate unknown, death (myself included). I think about why I am here at this moment - two weeks after I was originally scheduled to make this trip. And I think, you can never know what will happen in life. No matter what rules you have or what plans you forsee for your future, it can all change in one second. And I do think, given all of the coincidences that I have observed (because I´m sure coincidences are always happening, and it is only now, more aware, that I recognize them), I was brought here by some greater power (maybe God) at this time for a certain reason. I took a 1pm shuttle from my hostel, which is also a vintage clothes shop/cafe/bar/restaurant, from Antigua to Panajachel (about a 2 1/2 hour trip). By the way, this whole combination of businesses (cafe plus bookstore plus jewelry shop, etc.) really does work (yay, Kambry) and yes, it does make me think that maybe a dog run cafe wouldn´t exactly be suitable in Central America (there are dogs that basically live in every bar and restaurant in town... my favorite is Feo, at No Se... Jeremy says he doesn´t even move, just lays there and enjoys the live music and people around him), but I´m sure I can think of two or more ¨businesses¨ to combine into one place. Don´t worry though, I´m not moving just yet. Anyway, the shuttle ride was pretty impressive. I sat next to two Swedish girls headed to San Pedro, in front of three boys who by their vocabulary (awesome, tennis shoes), my guess is they are from California... behind a dredlocked couple with holding a little baby in their lap. Again, no rules. No stroller or carseat or seatbelt. No breast pump or baby bottle. When the baby cried, she just opened her shirt and fed it. It´s so free. And here, so normal. I thought knowing what I know about rules and safety, I would never be able to be okay bringing a baby into this vehicle that is speeding up a windy road that makes Locust Ridge Road in the Poconos look like the straightest road in the world, inches away from the edge of a road that is in fact, a cliff, protected by a barrier no higher than your average NYC curb. But, in another life, I´d love to be that dreadlocked woman. So, I arrive in Pana and they say, it´s easy to take the boat ride over to San Marcos or whatever other village you want to spend your time. I get my first view of the Lake and it is breathtaking. Three volcanos and this body of water. And I´m finally alone in my travels, which on one hand is a little scary (because I really haven´t gotten used to where anything is here) but on the other hand, liberating. For the next three days, I can go anywhere and there is nobody here or there that will know where I am at any moment. Or so I thought. But this country has proven to be smaller than probably the West Village. I make my way over to San Marcos after an extremely scary and overpriced (the boys at the lancha (pier) talked this gringa into a privado boat ride costing Q200 instead of Q20. Smart gringa, huh?) 20 minute ride. They claimed the ride would be more beautiful than taken with a crowd of people. I´ll tell you the only thing I saw on the trip was my life flash before me. This is when the fact that nobody knows where you are is not liberating, but scary. I even attempted to text my girls and let them know I was on a trip quite like the one we had taken years ago at Playa de los Muertos in Mexico... minus the thunderstorm... but add some serious waves and bumps that even my cushion couldn´t handle. You know, this Lake, is really serene and beautiful from afar but once you get in it, it is so fierce and strong. I was reading in my travel book that they say the surface of the lake is calm and clear in the morning, but by early afternoon the xocomil (the wind that carries away sin) blows from the coast, churning the surface and making travel by boat quite a rock ´n roll experience. I´d have to agree, wholeheartedly. What a moody lake, this Lake Atitlan. Upon my arrival to the shore, I agree to have two young boys - Mateo y Alejandro - walk me to a hostel. At this point, I am SO sick of getting lost and really they were quite cute and helpful. The stone walkways are so narrow and so confusing, that I probably wouldn´t have made it otherwise. I choose this amazing hotel, Aaculaax. It is this ecohotel made from thousands of recycled bottles and wood, with stained glass windows and these butterfly lampshades (mariposas, also on that vision board of mine). Every room is different, and really amazing. Guess who I saw as I checked in? A couple that was sitting in the row ahead of me on my flight. Linda and Max. I thought when I saw them coming from Fort Lauderdale, that they were a really interesting pareja. And now, they are here - at the same hotel. Linda said their room had a rock in the middle of it. Amazing. Mine overlooks the patio that they serve breakfast on each morning. Even the bathroom is so beautiful. And this place. There are no lights, so after dark you really need to have a flashlight or have your wits about you regarding direction (which as you all know, I don´t have). I settle in and then spot the three boys who were behind me on the shuttle to Pana, also at the hotel... which can I add, only has a handful of rooms. Small town, small country, small world. At some point, as it´s getting dark, I realize I´m pretty much alone... with my journal, or my book, or my thoughts. And I wasn´t exactly ready for all that, so I thought maybe I´d get a bite to eat. Domingo, the nightwatcher, walked me to a restaurant nearby (thank god) and we made a plan for him to pick me up there 40 minutes later. I guess he was my escort, ha. I sat at the bar - although get this, there is really NO bar scene in this village - and met an El Salvadorian man named Carlos who at the very least, helped me practice my Spanish. The people here are quite friendly. Even on the narrow, stone walkways, every time you pass someone, there is an ¡Hola! exchanged. I love that. So, wow - that was only 2 days. And this morning, I woke up at 5:30am to the sound of dogs howling, roosters crowing and the prayers of the Evangelist (I think) and noticed that the sun was rising over the lake and volcanos. Luckily as I ran out to the front of the hotel, Domingo was unlocking the gate so I could head over to the water. Again, at the first sight of the massive volcano over this beautiful and seemingly calm lake, I lost my breath a little (kind of like when I first stepped around the corner to see Buddhakan´s main dining room, kind of). I took a few photographs as you would expect, but really for the first time, I wanted that moment for myself. It was something I knew I couldn´t completely capture in a picture and honestly, I don´t remember the last time I´ve felt that way about something. I headed back to the hotel and decided I´d try to find Las Piramides, which is the meditation retreat centre here. I made it in time for their 7am yoga class which was in an actual pyramid built from wood. They have these month-long courses, but you can also just go for a week or even just a day. I think they are in their third week, so the focus was on the strengthening the spine. Unlike any yoga class I have been to, but really interesting especially in terms of your connection with the other people in the room. It was like this energy was pulsating from the center of the pyramid which housed this glass-encased crystal (not really sure what that´s all about, but I felt it). It´s funny - Max & Linda told me last night that they felt this certain energy around me and that they just sensed that I was protected here. Just another moment I realized eventhough I don´t have a plan for the next three days, I know I´m supposed to be here right now. After breakfast on the patio, I headed back to Las Piramides to hear this Metaphysics course - back to the wooden pyramid with the glass-encased crystal in the center. We started with some breathing exercises and then the woman who started the place, started talking about the ¨sistema iniciativo.¨ Today was just an overview of the 7 disciplines which include some stuff that is quite prevalent in the US - tarot, numerology, astrology, even kabala. I guess this week - the third week - they will go deeper into the ¨tree of life¨ and how it is connected with each of the 7 disciplines and how when you make those connections for yourself, you will be brought to another state of consciousness. To be honest, all this, coupled with reading ¨The Power of Now¨- I mean, I´m at the point where I just don´t even know what I should think or if I should be thinking at all. But I´m writing a lot (as you can see) and trying to figure out what I was brought here unknowingly to figure out. I do feel, in a way, between all the coincidences thus far as well as all that has happened back home in the past 2 weeks, that I was called here to this particular place. But who knows for what reason? It does go back to that vision board of mine though, as overwhelming as it looked when I completed it - there are so many things that I have seen or felt here that have reminded me of the words or scenes I pasted on that board two months ago. So, there is so much more I can write but I will save it for my own journal because honestly, anyone who has read this far in one sitting is amazing. You all are, anyway. I hope you are having a great week and I will keep in touch throughout the next week. I have so many thoughts on some of the experiences I have observed or had in the past three days, I just want to sit and write a book about it. Hopefully, someone would want to read it, but I think I´d just feel fulfilled in having written it. Hasta luego, Deanna PS: There are a few of you that I know would absolutely LOVE this place at this point in your lives. So, here are some links to my li´l´ ecohotel and the meditation center. Oh yes, and Mom - Linda, from the couple I met, is here doing research on teaching ESL in the neighboring village of San Pedro this summer. I´ll pick up some information for you ; ) www.laspiramides.com.gt niecolass@hotmail.com - info for Aaculaax.

crossing the border

ladyd — Fri, 11 May 2007 03:07:00 GMT

Hello again, So... if I were to close my eyes and walk the streets of Seattle, I would think I was in San Francisco. First off, every Seattlite (is that right?) I met said this was the sunniest day that they had seen in years. Lucky me! Secondly, who knew the hills were this steep in this city?? I had no idea. If I don't lose some back after touring this place, then there is no hope for me. I arrived this morning, around 10am or so... and took the 4 hour bus ride from Vancouver over the border to where I am now. Not a bad trip... but the day started early, for sure (that's what they say a lot here, I noticed... "for sure.") Anyway, I dropped my bags off and headed out to the Tourist Information Center. I decided I'm going to start doing that the first day I arrive somewhere... because when you go the last day, you just realize how much easier things would've been if you just went the first day. So, I went there and the woman was really nice and gave me tons of information on everything I could possibly squeeze into two days in this city. I picked up some tickets for the symphony - I think Mom will like that tomorrow night. Plus, the theater is supposedly amazing (ask Kate, she knows first hand) and has this great acoustic system no matter where you sit... which is a good thing considering the tickets I can afford at this point. Then I headed over to Pioneer Square - where Seattle first began. I took this tour of the underground city which was actually really cool... learned some interesting history... and understood why the streets are the way they are here. Then per Kate's suggestion, I headed to her old hood, Capitol Hill via bus (only $1.25... although in the "green" tourist zone it's free until 6pm... nice, huh?) This area has a main road - Broadway - with lots of clothes stores, cafes, restaurants, etc. but as I was navigating toward Volunteer Park, I thought... "wow, this is super residential." Take the nicest block of the Hill section in Scranton, PA and multiply that by however many blocks that make up Capitol Hill... that's what it felt like. Beautiful, old homes with wrap-around porches... really nice, but a bit too residential for me. I hit Volunteer Park - seriously I have never seen grass as green or flowers as vibrant as I have in Vancouver and Seattle. Everything in the Pacific Northwest seems so alive and fresh. I took a quick walk around the park... they have supposedly the most beautiful cemetery - odd tourist site, but I passed by... and then headed to Paramount theater where I saw Rent. Come all the way across the country to see a Broadway show... I know, I know. Of course, throughout the day I made some coffee stops and I think my only real meal today was at this fast food joint, Taco Del Mar... I don't do fast food typically, but this stuff is good... really good. So, that's been Seattle so far. My mom is on her way from the airport as I write this email... and hopefully, she's ready for all the plans I've made for the rest of the trip ; ) Speaking of, I did a very un-Deanna thing by coming early to Seattle instead of taking the ferry from Vancouver to Victoria and then one to Seattle (which would have been picturesque... but quite a bit more money and time)... and I'm really glad I did have the day to spend here. I'm not quite as comfortable here walking the streets as I was in Vancouver... I wonder if it has anything to do with being back in the US!?!? I spent the last day in B.C. traveling with a little Chi-town friend I met at the hostel. He had all these plans worked out to rent bikes and go through the park (the name of it escapes me, but it's basically Vancouver's Central Park)... huge, and hilly... and difficult to ride the detoured trails when you haven't been to the gym in 7 months.... but beautiful nonetheless. We biked across the whole city - from the outer perimeters of the park to Chinatown (for some yum lunch) to Gastown... and ended the night with an improv Shakespeare play on Granville Island. Oh and did spot some porn shops/peep shows on Granville Street (where my hostel was)... so yes, it ended up being exactly like home... on West 4th St. I guess I'll leave off there for the moment, Deanna PS: CB, thank you for the messages and suggestions - I was really planning on taking my mom to Jade Pagoda when she got in tonight (sounds just like the kind of place she would enjoy)... but when I passed by it on Broadway, there was a sign saying it had closed... right above a sign that said: "Danger: Asbestos..." What kind of places are you sending me to?? I'm going to stick to KB's advice ; )

from the Hills and the valleys... to the city and the mountains...

ladyd — Tue, 8 May 2007 04:05:00 GMT

So, I know this isn't an Asia trip, but I figured I'd send along an email about my current trip to the Pacific Northwest... probably my most long awaited destination. I arrived in LA on Thursday after packing all night (of course) and leaving my apartment at 5:30am. The flight was delayed... but I somehow made the 12pm Central Coast Shuttle to Buellton where most of the wedding party, including me, was staying. Buellton - the split pea capital of the world. Enough said, right? It is only a 15 minute drive from Solvang, which I think is the Danish capital of the US. Go figure. They have great pancakes, that's for sure. And really good wine, especially at the Gainey which is where Michele and Dillon had their wedding. We had our "rehearsal" on Friday at the beautiful grounds - the vineyards are amazing and probably the most close-to-perfect site for a wedding that I have seen. Eventually, the whole wedding party arrived... they were amazing. Dillon and Michele's family and friends are the most welcoming people I have met in a long time. By day 2, I felt like I had known them just as long as I have known Michele - 7 years. (By the way, for those of you who don't know, Michele and I met when I studied in Spain back in 2000. She's from Cali but we have kept in touch quite well over the years). The whole wedding weekend was completely laid-back. Never have I met a couple as calm as Dillon and Michele on the day before or morning of their wedding. Yet, I have never heard a couple state their vows so strongly and full of intent as I did when Dillon and Michele exchanged theirs on Saturday. It was really an amazing thing to witness and be a part of... And then from the valleys of the St Inez valley (I think that's where we were)... to the Hills of LA... I spent Sunday night with an old friend from college who moved from NY to LA to pursue a career in filmmaking. Last time I stayed with him, it was in a great area - West Hollywood. This time, we drove up the most windy road... I mean, if someone else was coming down the road, you have to pull over or reverse so they can get passed you. It's insane... and I can't even imagine driving it at night. Anyway, you get to the top - and there is this yellow house he shares with three of his friends ($4000/month for those of you wondering how much this place is). The whole back of the house is a patio - three floors of wide open windows and patios. It's hard to believe he pays less for the view of the "Hollywood" sign and a panaromic vista of the city than I do for my view of Papaya Dog and Washington Mutual. I guess I don't have to drive up that dangerously windy road for my view ; ) Anyway, he's screening one of his movies on Wednesday ("Diamonds in the Rough..." a great documentary about the hip hop revolution in Uganda) and was doing a lot of preparation for that, so I got to pet-sit his 7 month old dog, Howie for the evening. So cute. And definitely made me miss Nessa... who by the way, had a birthday today (May 7). Can't believe she's 5... or 35... if that's how they count "dog years." So, today I arrived... from the Hills... to the mountains and city of Vancouver in British Columbia. I've never been to this part of Canada... and even as we were flying overhead, I could tell I was going to love it. I had second thoughts when the Customs Officer grilled me about why I was here... why I didn't know anybody here... why I am traveling here... why I traveled to Cambodia last year... where I worked, what I did... blah, blah, blah. I swear, I thought he wasn't going to let me in at one point. A lot of questions, but I guess that's his job, right? Anyway, as I told Angela earlier today, Vancouver has a strange resemblence to Granada (Spain)... snow capped mountains jut out over and around the city... as if they are so close you can touch them. The only difference is that water is everywhere here. I love that. I actually thought I was walking one way to get to this dinner spot, Bin 941 - towards the water (that's what it looked like on the map) - and it was the wrong way. So I look at the map, and realize both ways lead to water. So, I'm sure it won't be the first time I get lost... but I did get to catch the just-before-sunrise near the pier where a lot of the cruises to Alaska leave from... this body of water with beautiful snow-capped mountains as the backdrop. Really breathtaking. I'm planning to take the ferry over to Granville Island tomorrow... not really sure what to expect there, but I've read that it's worth the trip and my hostel is hosting a trip over there, so I thought it would be a good time to go, despite the 70% chance of rain. That's actually the worst weather forecast yet though, luckily. Tonight, I went to a great place for dinner and then headed a few blocks from my hostel for some live music. It really feels like Manhattan at night... and where my hostel is located on Granville Street feels particularly like home, good ole' West 4th. No porn shops, but plenty of people on the streets... either moving from bar to bar... or asking for some change. It's amazing that no matter how different or far apart places are, there's always something comfortable about them. At least that's what I keep discovering in my travels. So, I'm here til' Thursday... and then off to meet Mom in Seattle (ssh, she doesn't know where she's going). I'm really excited for that leg of the trip also... and I have tons of plans for Washington and Oregon... hoping that she's up for it too. Until next time, Deanna

chiang mai, thailand

ladyd — Sat, 30 Dec 2006 06:14:00 GMT

We decided the moment we landed in Chiang Mai that Thailand is extremely random. I, of course, being random myself, don't exactly mind but I suppose I was expecting a place that was a bit more charming. It may be that I have to keep remembering to look right before looking left when I cross the street or because it takes about five Thai words to say 'Thank You' or 'hello.' I'm still stuck on the Khmer language.

(I think) We moved into our 2nd hostel on Wednesday and spent the day getting to know the

city. It's definitely more developed that anything we have seen thus far and there are Starbucks' and 7 11's and Western food options everywhere. The 'old city' is enclosed by a wall and there's a river that runs in a square shape around it... I think that part is kind of cute. There's a restaurant and spa sort of attached to our guesthouse so we had some lunch and then got pampered for 3-4 hours, all for about US$30. Pretty amazing, except for the wrap part. I don't think I realized I was as claustrophobic as I am. We then went to the night market which was a pretty intense market, and I've seen a ton of markets these past 2 weeks. We spent Thursday at an Elephant Conservation Park. It was really amazing to learn about these huge animals and feed them, bathe them and see them in a different light. It's kind of outrageous that they symbol of Thailand are these majestic elephants and yet they abuse them in order to use them submissively for working purposes - logging and elephant rides. I will never be able to ride an elephant again after the experience. I didn't even know that an elephant's spine is extremely weak and not made to hold the weight of a bench seat or humans for that matter. Unfortunately, they didn't have room for us to spend the night at the elephant camp, so we headed back to our guest house. The following day we took another tour. This was probably the worst tour ever. But that's not so bad, considering we've been here for about 13 days. 1 out of 13 isn't bad. We were picked up extremely early at 7am and didn't return back until almost 9pm. I really wanted to visit the Hot Springs, remembering pictures I had seen of them in Costa Rica. These were extremely disappointing. Wait til I should you the photos, you will think it's just a fenced hole with smoke coming out of it. We did drive to the Golden Triangle which is where Burma, Thailand and Laos meet and Michelle and I took a boat and actually did step on Laos, without a visa or passport. That was pretty neat. We later visited a hill tribe. These are the people who escaped Burma and were eventually given Thai citizenship because the government didn't know how else to control them. There's more history about them, but you know how I am with history. Today I went to a Thai cooking course which started in the market and then the kitchen... really a lot of fun and I finally got to (make and) have kow sao (sp?) which is a specialty of Northern Thailand and only made here. And you all think I can't cook! I have the ingredient and recipe book, so let's see how I do when I get back.

Our trip is really coming to an end =( It feels like we've been traveling for a month, and I don't think it has even been a full 2 weeks. Tonight I'm going to get a Thai massage and then we will head to the infamous night market, a different one from the one we went to earlier this week. Oh, and the King is in town, so maybe we'll stop by and try to get a look at him. It's so odd, the King's photo is up all over the city. I had read about it in the travel book, but it's really strange to see this guy up all over. People adore him and hang photos up of him in their house, everywhere. So I can imagine what people are doing to prepare for him to come to town tonight. Tomorrow morning we head to Bangkok, short flight and hopefully smooth. We haven't really had one smooth airport experience yet. We'll spend the day in the capital and find something to do to ring in the New Year. We're 12 hours ahead of you, so when we get on the plane at 8am on January 1, you won't yet be in 2007. Weird.

See you all back in NY.

Happy New Year!

christmas in cambodia

ladyd — Tue, 26 Dec 2006 10:29:00 GMT

I hope you had a wondeful Christmas! Did it snow over there yet? Being here, wearing skirts and sandals, it's hard to imagine that kind of weather! We took the 6 hour bus ride on Christmas Eve from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh, Cambodia's capital. One of our favorite trips thus far was the bus ride. Not only did we see the fields and shacks on stilts that made up the countryside, but were sitting among native Cambodians who, without communicating verbally, were able to say so much. At each stop we made, for the squat toilets and mini marketplaces, they would bring back something in a plastic bag for us to try. At the first stop they offered us grapefruit. At the second stop, this thing that we assume is fried duck embryo. And at the third stop, they walked onto the bus with a plastic bag full of leaves and live tarantulas. I had read that fried tarantula was an entree often eaten by Cambodians, but to see these huge, live, poisonous things in a tiny plastic bag, that by the way, had a hole in it, was a little scary. The woman's 10 year old daughter seemed to have no problem sleeping with the bag inches away from her and somehow after they assured us that it was okay, we handed them another bag to double bag the tarantulas and were able to take a little nap. We arrived at the bus station and had the guest house owner pick us up in town. There was a big celebration and everyone was wearing these Santa hats and wishing us a Merry Christmas when we got off the bus. Who knew a mainly Buddhist country was so crazy about Christmas? Our guest house was located in the backpacker area of the capital, something we really haven't encountered on our trip. It's a kind of grimy area and reminded me a little of the red light district in Amsterdam - not in terms of sex shops, but just the feel of the streets. We found a little place down the street from us to have Christmas Eve dinner and actually met an American-Canadian who has been living in the capital for over 3 months. He took us to some of his favorite local bars, which were mainly filled with what I would call long-term travelers who are "floating" through their travels and aren't really ready to commit to any sort of plan, traveling or anything else for that matter. Afterwards, we headed to one of Cambodia's clubs. It was probably one of the first nights we weren't in bed by 10pm. I know, we're old ladies. Anyway, it was an absolutely disturbing scene. There were tons of older white men and a swarm of young Cambodian women, and you knew what the deal was standing there and watching them interact. They don't call themselves prostitutes. Instead, I think they are "taxi girls." We watched couple after couple leave the bar together and it was actually really sad to know where they were going. As those of you who know me well know, I don't know much about history and I don't really read. Spending time in countries like Cambodia has made me realize how important history is. I didn't know that there was a genocide in Cambodia in the late 70's or that fighting was happening here in the 90's. It's so hard to imagine a country filled with so many peaceful faces was once a place filled with fighting and the Khmer Rouge. We spent Christmas Day getting to know the capital - visiting the Royal Palace, the Vietnam-Cambodia Friendship Monument and the S-21 Genocide Museum. S-21 was the school that the Khmer Rouge took over and converted into a prison which became the site of the genocide. After walking through the schoolyard and in each of the classroom cells, we decided to not visit the Killing Fields, which house the skulls and bones of those who died. It was quite an interesting way to spend Christmas Day. We ended our night by getting massages from the blind, one of the most touching parts of my trip thus far. I can't even describe the power of the sense of touch that you feel when a blind person is working on you in that way. We left Cambodia early this morning and again, almost didn't get on our Air Asia flight to Chiang Mai (via Bangkok). But we're here, in a really great guest house that's a little off the beaten path. We took a walk into town. The one thing I've noticed so far in Thailand is that you can't even walk down the street without feeling suffocated by the exhaust around you. It's like standing behind a NYC bus for an hour straight. Well, I've never done that, but I imagine that's what it's like. We'll be staying in northern Thailand until Sunday morning, when we fly to Bangkok to spend New Years Eve... and then jump on a plane back home on January 1. It hasn't even been 2 weeks and it feels like it's been so long since I left NY. I guess it's good that vacation feels so long! Until next time, Deanna

more of cambodia

ladyd — Sat, 23 Dec 2006 07:17:00 GMT

Viet Nam may be the most beautiful country thus far, but Cambodia definitely has the most beautiful people. Through our walks through the market place yesterday and our journey through the temples of Siem Reap today, the highlight was not the massive stones or intricate carvings, but the kindness and beauty of the people we encountered. We had wanted a tour guide for our visit to Angkor Wat, but since it is the high season and there is some Korean-Cambodian World Expo conference in Siem Reap this week, Teaam at the guesthouse was unable to get one for us. Instead Suun took us on a tuk tuk (basically a motorbike with an attachment for us to sit in) to the temples and we ended up making up stories that we may have read in our travel books and going off the beaten path. We had an amazing experience when we walked off a path and met a 20 year old monk who gave us a tour of the pagodas and told us a little about life and the training of a Buddhist monk. It was an experience no tour guide could have given us. Again, I don't have much time to continue writing much longer. We are in the process of deciding whether we want to take the 6 hour bus ride to Cambodia's capital tomorrow afternoon or if we want to fly into Pakse (southern Laos) or Luang Prabang (northern Laos). Even though we have more than a week left, the travel between these areas will probably be long and unfortunately, we're going to have to make some decisions about where we should spend the rest of our time before flying to Bangkok for New Years Eve. I hate these decisions! By the way, I think I took over 200 photos just in one day today - not even half are probably of the temples. Like I mentioned earlier, Cambodian people are beautiful and allowed us to take photos of them and their children. Some children you just want to pick up and take home with you. They speak english so well, and they sell you bracelets, or soda, or books - anything for $1. It's heartwarming and heartwrenching at the same time. Until next time, Deanna PS Merry Christmas!

kingdom of cambodia

ladyd — Fri, 22 Dec 2006 04:06:00 GMT

We have left the chaos of Viet Nam's capital for the calmness of Cambodia's Siem Reap. Only a three hour flight from Hanoi, you can sense how much more laid back Siem Reap is by even walking through the airport which to me, felt like a museum. There were statues lit up in almost every corner. The "customs" process was to simply hand a piece of paper to a man on his cell phone behind a counter marked "Customs." Very different from the military like officers in Hanoi's Airport. Our guesthouse is located only about 20 minutes from the airport and 15 minutes from Angkor Wat. It is spotless and there are shoes on a mat at the entrance which signaled to us that we should remove our shoes before entering. 13th Villa is run by a Japanese woman who came to Cambodia not speaking the language or English, both of which she speaks quite fluently now. There is a restaurant attached, and sitting on floor cushions last night it was comforting to hear the sound of crickets replacing the sound of horn honking that was so prevalent in Hanoi. We decided, after just a few hours here, that we are going to extend our time in this country. Back to our original plan, I think. It's definitely quite liberating to keep switching itineraries, and so far we have all agreed which is kind of nice. I would love to write more - considering 1 hour of internet access is only $1 - but we are hoping to do some more market shopping and get a long massage before heading to dinner and a performance of the Cambodian traditional dance.

hanoi

ladyd — Tue, 19 Dec 2006 08:22:00 GMT

Vietnam is probably the most uniquely beautiful place I will ever see. We arrived yesteday evening at one of the quietest and efficientairports I have ever been in. Much different from our experience in the UAE, or even in Bangkok. We even purchased paper tickets to our next destination, which had to change a bit due to flight schedules. So we are set to leave Hanoi for Siem Reap (Cambodia) on Thursday. Our plan is then to fly to Pakse (Laos) and take the boat ride down the Mekong River into Cambodia... and then fly back from Siem Reap to Bangkok for New Years Eve. But plans are always subject to change, especially here. So back to Vietnam. We call our hostel (that we booked when we were waiting in the Bangkok airport) and they apologize for not being able to pick us up and tell us they will pay for the taxi ride once we arrive there. The trip takes awhile and once we get into the Old Quarter, we see what appears to be rush hour. But it's unlike anything I have ever seen. There are about 3 million motorbikes (well, that's the total amount in the capital city) riding towards us in every direction. If pedestrians own the streets in NYC, motorbikes own the streets of Vietnam. Honking is not only encouraged, it is a must to communicate with others that you are about to crash into. You can imagine the whole experience of driving, riding or walking through the streets is stressful, but the Viet people seem anything but stressed. We finally arrive to our hostel on a really tiny side street and are welcomed by an entire family. They offer us bananas and tea and sit us down to talk to us about our trip. This place comes free with breakfast, Internet, bananas, tea and coffee (my favorite, with sweet condensed milk!). Our room is really clean and the bathroom doubles as a shower, the second time I've seen this setup in my life (the first was in Amsterdam, remember Angela?) It was nice to know, arriving in Vietnam, that it was the first time since leaving on Friday that we didn't have to worry about waking up to go to the airport or take a flight the next day. It was the first time we actually saw daylight, except from the plane, since we left JFK Friday night. So, we took to the narrow, motor-bike filled streets to find an authentic traditional meal - something authentic, but not pigeon or dog or duck embryo. Walking on these streets is a skill. If there are stop signs or traffic light, nobody obeys them. If there's a crosswalk, you're better off not using it. As a pedestrian, you won't make it by running across the street. You just have to go slowly step by step, feeling like you are playing a game of chicken with the bicycles, motor bikes and vans in the street. The streets of the Old Quarter make China Town look like nothing. Each street is a row of stores - the handbag aisle, the candy aisle, the footwear aisle, the backpack aisle, the clothes aisle, the jacket aisle. It's neverending. Outside stores, families eat on these tiny benches and chairs. I'm not quite sure what they're eating but we are planning on eating at one of those "tables" tonight so I'll be sure to report back. We ended up eating at a restaurant with a balcony much like something you'd see in New Orleans. We actually all agreed last night that Hanoi, at least the Old Quarter, felt like a movie set. The homes are narrow and tall and everything that is happeneing on the streets, happens with a certain energy and vibrance. It's really something that I'm not even sure can be captured in photos. It's something you just feel walking side by side with the motorbikes on the streets, smelling the smells of food cooking and listening to the somewhat organized chaos around you. Today we took our first day trip to the Perfume Pagoda, about a 2 hour bus ride from Hanoi. There are several pagodas in Vietnam, and this is one of the more popular. A pagoda is really a place of worship, which I think stems from Buddhism, although many Vietnamese are Christian... there is one annual trip that many Vietnamese take to the Perfume Pagoda, regardless of what their religion is. You pray for love or happiness or Mother Nature or luck, whatever you are in need of that particular year. To get there, we took an hour long row boat ride down the Red River and then an hour hike up a mountain, then back down, lunch, back on the boat and back on the van. As we took the ride back to Hanoi, it was amazing to see the sun set over the mountains that surrounded where we just were as well as the flat lands that the women, with their cone shaped hats, work on. Cows and dogs roam the roads and markets selling meat and fruit were still open as we drove past on our way back to the capital. Tonight we are heading to a water puppet show, something unique to Hanoi... and tomorrow, to Halong Bay which I hear is absolutely amazing. I don't doubt it. Tell me, have we missed the first snowfall or is it still fall over there? Until next time, Deanna