Goodbyes Don't Get Easier -- Yaxha and Guatemala City, Guatemala

I'm starting this post from my new home in Antigua, Guatemala. My room is small, painted white, and sports a single barred window through which just the right amount of light passes. The desk at which I sit is wooden and decorated with a doll made of painted corn husks and a small wooden block that reads, "Follow Your Dreams." With arrows pointing in both directions. 

Now that's the problem, isn't it? It's not that I'm bad at following my dreams. It's that I have so many damn dreams pulling me in different directions, that I can't seem to stay focused on any one thing long enough to actually get good at it.

I've unpacked my overtaxed Fat Ellie, and she sits deflated and rejected on the floor between my dresser and my laundry basket (I have a laundry basket now. That's how settled I am. Holy freaking bananas). She seems rather sullen about this change of events, but I'm pretty sure she'll get used to it. 

I know I will. 

My bed is still a rumpled mess of white sheets, blue and orange blankets, an incredibly soft pillow, and Teal Cecile (so I can play sad songs as soon as I wake up in the morning). An empty yellow coffee cup lingers on the nightstand, evidence that I've had coffee the way I like it this morning. 

Finally. I'm in a place for long enough that I can make coffee exactly how I want to drink it. 

A cookie tin full of flashcards accompanies my empty coffee cup, as does a wooden pelican and a small lamp with its shade askew. 

Eybi, the Honduran mother of the home, sits in the living room, working on her computer. I shared my coffee with her this morning and she brought me a tamale from the market. We're getting along very well indeed. 

My two weeks of traipsing about Guatemala with John and Cathy ended last Sunday. But before we parted ways, we had several more adventures.

We had quiet, peaceful adventures, like watching the sunset over Lago Petén Itzá (watching a good sunset is always an adventure).

We had an epic adventure to Yaxha, a complex of Mayans ruins about a two hour bus ride east of Flores.

"Cathy!" I turned to my friend as we bounced along the potholed road in our filled-to-capacity shuttle, "this is your last shuttle bus ride!" 

We high-fived. And figured out that by the time we returned to Flores that night, we would have spent a grueling twenty-five and a half hours jolting through Guatemala via shuttle bus.

"Enjoy your last ride," I joked. "Every jostle, all the potholes. Take it all in, Cathy. You're going back to Colorado soon, and you'll miss all these exciting roads. You'll just have boring, wide, flat roads where you can drive more than thirty miles an hour."

Cathy didn't seem nearly sad enough to be leaving behind the wonders of Guatemalan infrastructure.

We finally arrived in Yaxha at about two thirty that afternoon, tumbling out of the cramped van and gratefully breathing fresh, dust-free air.

That's the worst thing for me about driving through Guatemala. Not the potholes or the sardine-esque method of cramming tourists into shuttles. It's all the dust and the pollution that really get me. 

Our guide and his daughter began to lead us through the park.  

And although the ruins at Yaxha weren't as tall or impressive as at Tikal, they were quieter. Lovelier. More enjoyable to wander through.

"More Mayans come here, come to Yaxha, to practice their religion than go to Tikal," our guide spoke fervently. "In Tikal, now, we have too many tourists. But Yaxha... Yaxha is still for us. Yaxha is where my child will come to practice her religion." 

"Most of the pyramids are still buried under the rainforest," the guide continued to speak reverently about his worship ground. "It's very expensive work, excavating pyramids. Guatemala doesn't have the money, so the Germans are helping. Americans helped with Tikal, and the Germans are helping with Yaxha. And so," the guide shrugged, "many of Yaxha's treasures are now in Germany. But that's just human nature," he added forgivingly.

A buried pyramid

We continued to meander through the rainforest, stopping to look at game court ruin, to climb pyramids, and to watch families of monkeys noisily swinging from the branches above.

At the second to last pyramid of the afternoon, I asked the people I'd been chatting with, a couple of travelers from the Netherlands, if they'd like pictures of themselves doing acro yoga in front of the Mayan pyramids.

"Well, I've never done yoga before..." the girl responded with a nervous sort of enthusiasm.

"That doesn't matter," I assured her. "It's pretty easy. You just have to relax and trust me a little."

So I ended up putting a fair amount of tourists on my feet for photographs. And then asked one of the tourists from Thailand if she could snap a few of me.

Because I'm noticing that it's very rare these days that I actually have photographs of myself. For better or worse.

We ended our time in Yaxha with a sunset. A sunset which I described in my last post, so I won't expound upon how remarkably beautiful it was again. I'll just include a few more photographs.

We all climbed back into the shuttle after the sun had finally slipped behind the horizon and darkness had begun to seep into the sky. Sitting next to Cathy on the cramped, bouncy journey home, I settled into the feeling of gratitude. And wonder. That a penniless hobo such as myself could have experienced such a remarkable two weeks. Two weeks of  sharing an amazing (albeit quite challenging) country with two people incredibly important to me. 

Gosh, I'm blessed. 

We shared a final afternoon in Guatemala City, with my friend Gustavo acting as guide. 

I was never interested in exploring Guatemala City because I thought it would be ugly and way too crowded. 
 

But Gustavo is showing us such a lovely side of this place. 
 

 And I'm really glad we all get to see the city through his eyes. 

Cathy and John hopped into a taxi and headed to their hotel near the airport late afternoon. 

It hurt to say goodbye. 

"See you this summer," I hugged my friends warmly, feeling a little lost. "Thank-you so much for sharing this experience with me." 

Then I watched the taxi carry them out of sight. 

Oof. Guess that's that. 

Goodbyes sure don't get easier for me. 

...

I feel very ready to stop making them on such a consistent basis.  

Tikal! -- Flores, Guatemala

I'm starting this post from the top of the tallest pyramid in Yaxha. The sun glows golden in the distance, transforming the surrounding clouds into vibrant, glimmering puffs of pink, purple, and gold. The lake over which this pyramid stands is a soft blue, and I can see small ripples dancing across its surface, as water and wind meet. Howler monkeys roar in the canopy of jungle trees, and the other tourists sitting on the steps behind me keep their voices to a whisper, all of us treasuring this intensely beautiful moment.

Yes. 

I'll carry this sunset fresh in my memory for a very long time.

  

Yaxha is our second excursion to Guatemalan ruins. The Kellehers and I ventured out of Flores and into the ruins of Tikal yesterday. 

And it was pretty phenomenal. 

We walked across the street to the tour agency (there's a tour agency across the street from everything in Flores. Sometimes across the street from each other), and waited for our shuttle to arrive at four-thirty am. 

My favorite time of day, I sighed, looking around the quiet streets and feeling the freshness of morning. I don't know why EVERYONE isn't awake right now. They're all missing the best part of morning.

We climbed into the van and sped off towards Tikal, pulling into the entrance station at around six o'clock. John purchased tickets for the three of us, and we continued our journey into the park. 

It took us a good long while to actually reach the ruins. Because we kept running into interesting Guatemalan fauna. Such as the extravagantly flamboyant, blue-headed turkey (it's the scientific name). 

Everything in Guatemala has more color. Even the freaking turkeys. Jesus.    

 

After we'd finished our lengthy turkey gawking, we continued on to our first set of pyramids.

There's something so incredible about places like this, I thought, jogging up the steps to the top. Which is the most cliché, nondescript thing to think. Incredible. Mayan ruins are incredible. What does that actually mean? 

... 

It's just hard to find words for places like this. Places with stories richer, fuller, than I could possibly imagine.

Which is why everyone just says, "incredible."
 

Tikal is speckled with tourists who come for the magnificent views from the tops of ancient Mayan pyramids, but it's also visited by Mayans who practice their indigenous religions. At altars like this.

These steps. Feel like nothing, I thought as I continued to happily walk/jog up pyramid gradas. Wait... this pyramid, I counted steps and broke into a silly grin. This pyramid has fewer steps than I had to climb every morning to get from my tent to the composting toilet at The Yoga Forest. 

Haha. 

No wonder everything feels so easy. I'm climbing fewer steps and suffering from significantly less desperation.

I walked around with the other tourists, snapping the same photographs hundreds of thousands of people have probably snapped before. 

Sometimes it IS kind of refreshing to just do the normal tourist things. Like visiting Tikal with a tour company and taking rather vapid photographs. 
 

I went so deeply into tourist mode that I even took a selfie.

Which, uh, is something I haven't done in years. I think.

We headed back into the rainforest, occasionally stopping to watch monkeys and look for birds in the thick foliage blocking out the sun overhead.

The last pyramid I climbed was a bit higher than The Yoga Forest's composting toilet (though not by much), and the view was (I admit this grudgingly) about just as good. 

While sitting on the steps of the day's final pyramid, I chatted with some travelers from Slovenia, Germany, and Switzerland. Giving suggestions for what to do in Antigua and around Lake Atitlan.

It feels so weird that I can give advice for Guatemala. As in, I've lived here long enough to know how to enjoy bits and pieces of this remarkable country. 

"What about the best parties?" the traveler from Slovenia asked me. Innocently enough.

Oh god. And now, again, I feel like I know nothing about Guatemala. 

"I'm... uh... not the person you would talk to about parties," I replied with a wry smile, thinking about the time I'd almost fallen off the bar stool in Cafe No Se with Pancho. After one drink. At eleven thirty.

Gosh, I'm pathetic. 
 

We made our way back to the shuttle at around eleven, then sped back towards our temporary island home. Feeling as if we'd already accomplished at least an entire day worth of living well before lunchtime.

How did I get so lucky? I thought, bouncing up and down in the shuttle with a stupid smile of total contentment plastered to my face.

Recovery -- Flores, Guatemala

I'm starting this post from the deck of Lacandon hotel in Flores, Guatemala. Cathy reads her Kindle, John is fiddling with (and probably messing up) Cathy's computer, and a Guatemalan family is, uh... dancing on the bar. And taking photographs for posterity. 

Lighting flashes in the distance and a night wind sends pink flowers, yellow/green leaves into frenzied, chaotic dances on their delicate stems. Tiny drops of rain splatter my computer screen, hinting at yet another night of torrential downpour.

Our first day in Flores was relaxed. After two days of full-on, rear end annihilating travel, we were all feeling the need to slow down and settle in. And our poor, overused backsides seemed to scream in protest at even the inkling of a thought about another few hours bumpity-bump-bumping along a Guatemalan road. 

I woke up early, grabbed my camera, and headed out into this touristic island town to snap some photographs while the light was soft.

This trip has been a challenge for me in a lot of ways, I mused as I circled my island home.

 

The best and biggest has probably been being THE person who speaks Spanish. Or, tries to speak Spanish, at the very least. It's pushed me out of my comfort zone in a lot of necessary, wonderful ways. 
 

I've been forced to just figure things out. To listen hard. To listen harder. To make people stop and explain things because even my hardest listening doesn't make up for my lack of Spanish sometimes. 
 

I've learned to be determined. To be proactive. To get shit done in a way I probably wouldn't if I only had myself to take care of. 
 

When I travel, I'm usually living with local people who speak English. And I can ask them all the questions I might have. Without worrying about whether or not I misunderstood or miscommunicated. But this trip has been me trying to figure things out in a language I'm still very new to. 

But I'm here. We're here. In Flores. In one piece (even if our rear-ends are a bit worse for wear). So. I must have been able to do at least a bit of it right. 
 

 I'd wondered why the road in front of our hotel was so quiet.

It doesn't feel like Guatemala without the incessant buzzing of tuk-tuks. 
 
I didn't realize that it was because just a few meters away from my hotel, the whole damn road was flooded.

Flooded and swarming with tadpoles.

John, Cathy, and I had a breakfast of crepes and omelets at a nearby cafe, then returned to our hotel to relax. And do nothing else. We simply wanted to be here and to enjoy the glorious view from our deck.

At two, we headed down to the flooded road and hopped in a boat bound for Arcos, an animal rehabilitation facility across the lake.

The facility was small, but full of interesting animals with rather tragic backstories.

Dozens of tropical birds who had been taken as pets were in the process of learning how to eat food that grows in the wild. A puma was a permanent resident. A leopard.  A couple of wide-eyed ocelots, one with an amputated leg.

 We napped the rest of the blistering afternoon away under our fans and air-conditioners (an imperative activity in the tropics), then went for another leisurely stroll along the lakefront.

We returned to our hotel just as the evening storm rolled in, retiring early because we had purchased tickets to Tikal for the next day. At 4:30 am.

That. Is my kind of tour. 

Tikal. Wow. I can't believe I'm finally going. I've been wanting to see these ruins for ages -- since my first time in Guatemala, over three years ago.  

And now it's happening. 

I'm the luckiest lady. Holy bananas.