Well, There Goes Dinner: From Xela to Xela Again

My thoughts at 3:00 a.m. as I tried not to get vomit on my pant cuffs.

I'm not sure why I always have *ahem* "tummy problems" on the road. Probably because I eat whatever I can find that's cheap and looks weird. In this case, though, I lost a delicious and perfectly safe pesto pasta dinner prepared by my guides.

siiiiiick

So that was the worst part of the "Lago Trek" from Quetzaltenango (Xela) to Atitlan. Now the good stuff!

Dave and I wanted to check out Lake Atitlan, and we figured walking would be a good way to cover the +/-50 km. Coincidentally, this happens to be Quetzaltrekkers's most popular trek. We'd hung out with the QT guides, friends, and clients at Casa Argentina, where we were staying and where QT is headquartered. It's nice to find a little community when you're away from home.

The trek started with a chicken bus ride to Xecam, a small village near Xela. From there, we spent most of the day walking through forests, meadows, and rural agricultural fields to the village of Santa Catarina, where we spent the night in the municipal hall (and where I lost my pesto pasta).

the grassland, nicknamed "alaska"

I awoke the next day feeling pretty rough—dehydrated, sick, and way over-tired. Sounds like good form for hiking! I (foolishly?) decided I would stick with the group and would hike the 12ish miles to Santa Clara. I did okay until the final hour, when I could barely stand up straight due to the pain and nausea. I collapsed as soon as we arrived at the home of Don Pedro, our host. After a few spoonfuls of rice for dinner, I fell asleep to the distant sounds of Don Pedro playing the guitar and his grandson singing in a Mayan language.

countryside

Wake-up call on the third day was 3:45 a.m. When you go to sleep at 8:00 p.m. that's not too bad! We hiked less than an hour up to a mirador overlooking Lake Atitlan. We were treated to the beginnings of a beautiful sunrise... and then the clouds rolled in. Oh well! I was feeling much better, so the hike down to the lake went quickly. From there, all 17 of us, plus backpacks and driver, piled into a pick-up truck to drive the 10 minutes between San Juan La Laguna and San Pedro La Laguna (apparently this small stretch of road is prone to robberies).

watching the sunrise over lake atitlan

Compared to the Nebaj trek, the hiking was easier (less uphill, warmer weather, sleeping inside, half the length). The group was much bigger and the trek was shorter, so I didn't get to know everyone as well. The region where we hiked was much less remote, local residents were friendlier, so it didn't feel like I'd fallen off the map. Minus the sickness part, it was a great hike.

the cross, the virgin, and the volcano

So we're at Lake Atitlan. Now what?

lake views

We spent one night in San Marcos, which has a bizarre hippy New Age feel to it, and one night in San Pedro, which has a bizarre generic tropical backpacker hub feel to it. To me, Lake Atitlan felt just as overrun with tourists as Antigua. Tourism can do a lot of great things for a place, and a lot of people love the villages of Lake Atitlan, but I just couldn't get into it. We kayaked one morning, which was nice, but it was time to move on.

kayaking

With only a week left in Guatemala, we decided to head back to Xela, where I could take a weaving course (more on that later) and for a third QT hike. On the way, we stopped off in Chichicastenango for its famous Sunday market, a crazy mix of chickens, dish soap, traditional weavings, tourist souvenirs, jewelry, cell phones, beans, and fruit.

moment of rest on the church stairs

At the moment, we're in Xela. I'm finishing my weaving tomorrow, and tomorrow night we'll be hiking Volcano Santa Maria under the light of the full moon. Then a bus ride to Guatemala City... and back to the USA.

Wow.

And Finally, Guatemala

From Copán, it was a (relatively) fast, (relatively) comfortable, (relatively) cheap shuttle across the Guatemalan border to Antigua...

to meet Dave!  YAY!  Central America just got that much cooler.  And I'm never running off without this dude ever again.  :-)

yayyy

Right on cue, I got sick.  It started with stomach cramps and fatigue and quickly progressed to cascading waterfalls.  Bummer.  I started an antibiotic right away, and by the following day was feeling better.  This time I think it was from untreated water.  I got lazy and drank the "pure" drinking water at our guesthouse.  When in doubt: treat it.

ughhh

Alternating between the happy and the sick, Dave and I had time to wander around Antigua, climb part of Volcán Pacaya, and move our base of operations over to Quetzaltenango.

Antigua wasn't really my style--I called it "A Nice Town If Gringos U Admire" in my journal.  There are some great restaurants and nightclubs filled with English speakers, but I don't enjoy either.  There is a ton of petty tourist crime, which I don't enjoy either.  And there is very little street life--for example, Dave and I found only one woman selling tamales near Merced and one woman selling tostados in the central market.

couldn't find tostados, but did find the statues from semana santa

One morning, we hiked up Volcán Pacaya.  Pacaya had an eruption back in 2010, and we were hoping to see some lava, but unfortunately the guides are no longer allowed to take tourists into the volcanic zone.  We had to content ourselves with climbing into a break in a lava tube (cooled lava, of course!).  Natural sauna!

dave gets roasted

We decided to get the heck out of Antigua and head for Quetzaltenango, aka "Xela."  Already I am liking it SO MUCH MORE than Antigua, because it feels like a functional city.  Even in the very heart of the old city, there are people who live, work, and play.  There is an ex-pat, gringo, and Spanish student presence, but it is secondary to the primary day-to-day workings of the urban fabric.  All the "good stuff" goes with that--people are friendlier, street food is abundant, and the markets sell bananas and colanders instead of keychains and postcards.

just some ladies out with their kiddo

Just for kicks, we decided to take a bus to a smaller mountain town called Zunil.  There is really nothing of note there, but I liked it.  We visited the little church, walked up some of the hilly streets, got a relaxed lunch in a cafetín, and stumbled upon the entire village getting ready for the next day's market (I have never seen such huge bags of enormous carrots).

Zunil's central plaza, with church and chicken bus

From here, Dave and I will be out-of-communication from Tuesday, April 24 through Sunday, April 29.  We are headed up to Nebaj to hike to Todos Santos with a group called Quetzaltrekkers.  I am really looking forward to getting out of the city and hiking.  I will definitely post photos and updates when we get back!

Trip Report: Everest Base Camp Trek, Part I

The trip report summary: bus ride from hell; steaming bag of stomach contents #1; a kind sherpa couple; a leech where no leech should ever be; daily mountain passes; trail friends; adorable nepali children; clouds, clouds, rain, fog, clouds; the shock of mass tourism; yak convoys; my boots busting; acclimatizing; learning...  to read and write nepali; more acclimatizing; clouds, clouds, snow, fog, clouds; adorable sherpa children; steaming bag of stomach contents #2 + blood; emergency donkey ride (="ambulance"); a turn in the weather; more mountain passes; the goddamn khumbu cough; no, i won't sleep in a tent, it's -10C; topless everest base camp (+ whiskey, rum, vodka, cigars, and cigarettes); glaciers and cairns and mountains oh my!; breathe breathe breathe COUGH; climbing higher to 5,600 m/ 18,500 ft; and finally, "the big one." Nearly four weeks, around 110 miles, about 9,000 meters of ascent, 14 mountain passes, and a lot of plates of dal bhat... I can safely say this qualifies as EPIC.

It's been a while since I posted...  well, I'm still alive, I've just been hiking.  Dave and I took just under four weeks to hike from Jiri, a small village in eastern Nepal, to near Mt. Everest, back south to Lukla. Here's the more extended trip report...

10/1:  To get to the start of the walk in Jiri, we took the worst bus ride of the trip.  The vehicle was built for midgets and driven by an insane man.  We sat in the very back row, and I cracked my head on the ceiling when the bus hit potholes (there were approximately 398,593,176 of them on the 180 km drive).  It took 9 hours.  By the end, I was slumped on the floor of the aisle.  That evening, I projectile vomited for a while, then the explosion of bodily fluids started from the other end. 

10/2:  Since I'm as crazy as the man driving the hellfire midget bus, we started walking to Shivalaya.  After a while, the nausea was so bad I needed to stop every 50 meters to heave on the side of the trail.  Dave carried my bag, Nepali-style, with the shoulder strap across his forehead.  That got a lot of funny looks.

10/3:   We walked from Shivalaya to Bhandar.  It wasn't a bad walk--typical of this section of trail.  Up a big hill, down a big hill.  And I mean big.  Unfortunately, by the time we got to Bhandar, I was running a fever and generally feeling like I had been under the bus for 9 hours instead of in it.

10/4, 10/5, 10/6:  Although my stomach settled down, I had a fever that just wouldn't quit, even with ibuprophen/ paracetamol.  An unexplained fever, especially coming from a tropical country, means I couldn't walk farther--if I got sicker, I was that much farther from help.  So we waited.  And waited.  And waited.

The path from Jiri to Lukla doesn't see many trekkers anymore, due to the construction of the airstrip in Lukla and the (now discontinued) Maoist practice of asking for sizeable cash "donations" to their cause from foreigners.  There were no large tour groups, trekkers tended to be more responsible, self-sufficient, and friendlier, prices were much lower, and the Nepalis were more interested in interacting with us.  We stayed with this Sherpa man, Chhiring, and his non-English speaking wife while I recovered.  Chhiring served me tea he grew himself and taught Dave the Nepali alphabet, so we could learn to read and write.  Chhiring and his wife giggle constantly, like children.  So cute.

10/7:  I was feeling well enough to start walking.  But the weather had changed--instead of clear and bright, the air felt damp.  Monsoon usually blows through by September, but this year it had come late and lasted long.  Our days of sunshine were numbered.  And since the trail was wet, there was another surprise awaiting me...

This nasty thing attached itself on my upper upper upper thigh when I stopped to answer the call of nature off the trail.  Let me tell you, the only blood-sucking thing I want that up in my business is a tampon (the picture is cropped for decency).  As he blew up like a hellish, demented grape, my other thigh would brush against his slimy back, so I had to hike bow-legged for about an hour.  I nicknamed him "Fatty McFatterson."  My leg is still bleeding, eight hours later, when I arrive in Sete for the evening.

Trip Report: Everest Base Camp Trek, Part II

From here, where to go?  Our original plan to cross the Cho La pass seems unlikely; we lost too many days when I got sick.  The weather would have to be perfect for us to cross safely, and we'd have a very short window of opportunity.  To complicate matters, the bad weather has meant that flights to Lukla have been grounded for four days.  The valley up to Everest Base Camp is slowly emptying out, and only trekkers crazy enough to walk from Jiri or rich enough for a helicopter ride are coming in.  Our original plan was to skip the crowds and to head up a valley to the west, but at the last minute, we decide to go for the famous Khumbu Valley.

10/14:  We walk to Tengboche, home of a famous monestary.  Unsurprisingly, there's another huge hill up to Tengboche.  You'd think this country was full of hills and mountains or something...  oh wait.  Yeah.  Tengboche has a lovely little museum with exhibits on the Tengboche Monestary and Tibetan Buddhism, the predominant religion here.  This was my first direct experience with Vajrayana Buddhism, the mystical, tantric cousin in the Buddhist family, though my favorite author (Pema Chodron) is an American woman ordained in this tradition.  The monks permit foreigners to attend their puja (prayer) services.  I sat in the monestary for a long while in the evening, until all but one other foreigner had lost interest in the funny costumes and mumbling prayers.  The other white woman and I sat next to each other in meditation and the monks dedicated their practice to all sentient beings.

10/15 and 10/16:  We walked to Pheriche, right behind the South Africans whose schedule has mirrored our own.  I found a friendly lodge where the woman in charge spoke excellent English and had the most amazing little baby.  Seriously, where is the factory that pumps out all of these adorable Nepali and Sherpa children?!

We all were scheduled for a rest day in Pheriche, after ascending about 1,000 meters from Namche.  Together with Greg and Duncan, we took an acclimatization walk over the ridge to Dingboche, where there was an excellent bakery.  Once again, I'm so happy we walked in from Jiri.  The trail camaraderie built over that week is a totally different experience compared to the anonymous mass tourist experience of the Khumbu.

10/17:  Our walk up to Dukla was quite short--just up the valley and up a hill.  It took two hours, but in order to stick to our <500 meters per night ascent plan, this is our last stop for the day.  Originally, we were going to take a walk in the afternoon, but the weather turned very bad very quickly, so we stayed inside and studied Nepali.  I know my handwriting must look like a child's--the porters get just as much entertainment out of our butchery of their language as we do.

10/18:  In the morning, Dave tells me he was up for much of the night with terrible nausea...  then three times to the bathroom before breakfast.  Uh oh.  He doesn't want to stay in Dukla, since it was likely the food here that made him sick, so we head up the hill to Lobuche.  Once there, he takes a turn for the worse.  He vomits so hard that mucus and stomach contents are pouring out of his nose--so hard that soon there's blood in his vomit.  If he can't keep down liquids, he can't keep down an antibiotic; at this altitude, he will be very dehydrated and very sick very quickly unless he gets medical attention.

Why I Travel

Most Frequent Responses to
"I'm Quitting My Job and Traveling Around the World"
(In Order of Frequency)

1. Wow.
2. That's cool.
3. Where are you going?
4. What are you doing?
5. What do your parents/ family think?
6. Are you going back to your job when you get back?
7. Did you save up a lot?
8. I wish I could this, that, or the other thing.
9. I went to this place when I was this many years old...
   
10. When are you coming home? or How long will you be away?
    

Notably absent from the list?  "Why are you going?"

Rarely am I asked what could possibly possess me to sell all my stuff, quit my job, and leave my loved ones without so much as a forwarding address.  Either people think I'm crazy, in which case no explanation is needed, or they think I'm taking off for a two year vacation, in which case no explanation is needed.

I'm not (that) crazy, and I don't believe in vacations.

The best, and perhaps only, explanation I have is that I'm curious.  And the only way I know to satisfy curiosity is to see, hear, smell, taste, touch, and do.  I am particularly curious about the following topics and hope to explore them during my wanderings.

• Religion & faith:  I will be passing by some of the holiest places of the five major world religions, including my own and Dave's.  I am interested in how religion is expressed in architecture, design, and urban form, and how faith (the personal version of religion) is expressed by individuals.
• The natural environment:  I'm a sucker for trees and flightless birds (squeeee!!!).  I hope to encounter new (to me) species, and, by reading and researching, talking to people, and experiencing it for myself, learn about how those species interact in their ecosystems.  I'm also interested in how humans influence or change the natural environment.
• The secret, and not-so-secret, lives of women:  I can tell you about being a 27-year old woman with 0 children and 1 college degree in New York State in 2009.  Can you tell me about being a 27-year old woman with 2 children and 1 job in Manila in 2009?
  
• Health & folk medicine:  The way my country and my culture thinks about, promotes, and sells "health" is not the only way.  I'm particularly interested in plant-based and/or traditional, "folk" medicine.
• Children & the elderly:  We begin as children, and we end as elderly.  What do the place, role, and value of the young and old say about a culture?
  
• Food & food systems:  Food comes from somewhere.  In New York State, I rarely know from where my food comes.  I'm interested in how the food system works in other places, particularly in urban areas (this is an old academic interest of mine).

Maybe I'll learn about that stuff.  Maybe I won't--maybe I'll learn about other stuff.  That's where the "growth" part happens:  being open to whatever comes my way, even if it's not what I think I want.