What a whirlwind final two weeks in Guatemala. Returned from Honduras to familiar faces,
Guatemalan comfort food and my beloved bed.
Spent the week working on the aquaponic garden and putzing around. Went out for Jenn’s bday, got knackered as
they say in Australia and woke up with an appropriate hangover given the night
we had.
Rested up, ate some pizza that night and then went to bed
early on Friday. Awoke Saturday to
tackle Santiaguito, the active volcano that lies behind Xela. Nothing too too explosive but you can see
eruptions throughout the day as the smoke columns up in Xela’s background.
So anyway, we arrived at the start point around 730 – me,
Jenn, Jeremy (rando other dude) and the guide, Marvin. Marvin’s the same guide that took Bam Bam,
Brian and I to Chicabal.
So I then find out that we have to hike up and over Santa
Maria, an inactive volcano, to reach the base of Santiaguito. Getting to the top of the ridge we were
climbing wasn’t bad at all (tho Bam Bam would have cried! jaja) and we got to
the mirador (lookout) around 10am. Took
a nice break, ate a bit, watched Santi erupt a couple times, and then started
on our descent towards the base of Santiaguito.
At first, didn’t seem so bad. But soon I realized that so few people hike
this bastard mountain that there are no trails.
Instead, we worked our way down the volcano using natural runoff canals
and animal trails. As we were
bushwhacking our way through the head-high vegetation, volcanic ash covering
the forest kicked into the air, covering our everything. And as one would expect, life for a plant
living on a volcano is not so easy. You
don’t have very deep topsoil, good access to nutrition, water runs down the
slopes at such a speed it’s almost impossible to drink and oh yeah, your
neighbor spits ash on you all day. I
guess it’s kinda like living in plant Compton.
So as such, as plants do in such inhospitable climates, these plants
have adopted my life sucks so F you too mentality. The entire forest scratches, pricks, pokes
and simply makes your life hell in general.
As if sweating your balls off wasn’t enough you have to crawl, duck and
climb through a forest that’s giving you the middle finger.
So after a couple hours through the forest we make it to an
old lava flow and take that the rest of the way down, slipping, sliding and
overall making your thighs burn like a Donna Summers workout video.
Got to the bottom, ate lunch, then headed up. Santiaguito’s a much younger volcano, like 50
years old (blew off of Santa Maria) so there’s no eroded lava that’s become
dirt or sand. Instead, we essentially
bouldered our way to the top which actually, wasn’t that bad all said and then
made camp. The volcano’s comprised of 3
craters (think Hawaii if you’ve studied geology) and we camped on the one
furthest from the active crater. The
mountain has an incredibly surreal feel to it.
Very little flora exists save for this vibrant green algae that covers
everything and a few other F you plants.
And because it rains so much, the landscape is peppered with steam
vents, making me feel quite like Little Foot looking for his tree star.
Obviously Jenn and I had the ritual why the F did we just do
that joint then we hiked down our crater then up the next one to watch the
sassy broad erupt. And erupt it
did. Epic views, lava flows, smoke and
ash galore.
Hiked moreeee, back to our camp, ate dinner and passed
out. Woke up early the next am, did some
high yoga as I watched a few massive eruptions and then did the same hike but
in reverse. I’ll spare you the details.
Spent the last week tying loose ends, running around,
etc. I guess it’s only apt to finish
Central America like I started it – with an absolutely awesome Aussie girl,
still with my clothes on. I met Amy in
the back of a pickup riding through the mountains of Honduras. We got to talking and found out we have
pretty much the same degree. She asked
if she could help me with el jardin en Xela and I said why not, thinking she’d
never come. Well jiminy xmas, she
showed up. She helped me a TON in
finishing the garden and then we all went out on Friday night. Drank too much again, dahnced a storm, said
no to too many hookers and obvi ended the night eating street food at 4am.
Not gonna lie, the garden gives me a hard on. So proud of it, what it means for the project
and having so many people in my life that were/are keen on helping out. So then presented the garden and our One
School One Garden project at a community event organized by El Infinito…en
espanol. Nervous? Yes.
But after a couple early hiccups I regained my probably unmerited cocky
sense of public speaking and everything was super mel. Hopped on a bus to Guatemala City, spent the
night, then took the am flight to Dallas.
Still didn’t fully realize where I was going. Then I noticed the two old, white codgers in
front of me purell’ing their seats, arm rests, head rests, the walls next to
the seats, everything. Oh right, going
stateside. Turns out they were missionaries. How do I know that you might ask? Because they were reading a “how to lead the
Sudanese away from Islam during conflict” book.
Can I just say something? I think
being a missionary is one of the most retarded, futile, imperialistic, oppressive,
ignorant things to do with your life.
The dude had his arm chopped off by rebels, his family was
slaughtered, cattle stolen and he has no food to eat. Let’s take care of those issues before we
start trying to “steer” him from the “backward” religion of Islam. I hope you drown in your Purell.
So back to my point.
Home in the States. Yeah, sure
it feels a bit weird but man I am glad to be back surrounded by Asian
foods. Ciao.
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