one day in guatemala

Around the 23rd day of June Cam, Allison, and I arrive in the ocean-side town of Livingston, Guatemala- surrounded by eager (sometimes rough) Garifuna people, and colourfully dressed indigenous Guatemalans. The moment we arrive I feel myself naturally slipping into Spanish-speaking mode again, something I missed while being in Belize.

Rio Dulce.

A few hour boat ride from Livingston.

We meet a teenager in the park who gives me a shocking introduction to the need, the violence, and the redemption that resides in the borders of Guatemala. I forget his name but he comes up to the three of us as we are sitting in a park trying to figure out what hostel to stay at. He has a long piece of brown paper that he found in the garbage, and on it he has written his Spanish-english dictionary. He is desperate to learn English. I add to the list of vocabulary, and I give him a notepad I don’t need to further his studies. His plan, he says, is to jump on the train and try to make his way (illegally) to the United States to find work. He is doing this because he is responsible for taking care of 3 orphaned children whose parents were killed by machete only a year ago. He wants to make money for them so they can eat, and also he wants to help all the families in his community. For this he will risk his health and his life. He is about 15. His is a poverty clearly defined.

Horseback at the Finca Ixobel (finca means farm).

One day in Guatemala, with my two lovely dorm room-mates (Elsa and Dana Banana) and 2 volunteer guides I went on a horseback riding adventure while Cam and Allison went caving.

A small group of us set out at 8 am and I am given a beautiful white horse named Pancho. All morning it is bright bright bright sunshine as we walk through green cattle pastures and lush jungle (our guide Roy had to machete the way through!).. Sometimes we walk on deep muddy roads and watch as Guatemalan men steal rocks from eroding hillsides. Some of the hills, naked hills once covered in jungle, are half gone because of deforestation for cattle farming and erosion that most-inevitably results.

Regardless of land-health, everything is intensely green and for this, glorious.. Cantering through open pastures feels rather dream-like. I remember the first time we began to canter, the precise way I had to remind myself of the importance of living in the present moment. I then lost myself in the moment’s recklessness, and with it-a sweet release…

Mid-day we arrive at a creek where we eat lunch and enjoy cool waters. All morning the sun had shon down on our shoulders but now we see behind us a storm is moving in. We mount the horses again and with greater speed begin the journey back home. Through fields we fly- our bodies at risk of the most painful of falls, our hearts racing, and our leg muscles holding tight the the saddles. We are lost in the danger… in the bliss.

And then, 10 minutes before the rain begins to fall, my horse takes off with incredible speed charging me directly into a branch. I yank hard on the reigns but his force is unfaltering. The branch is closer, closer, closer- it is in front of my face… I put my hands up, grab a branch, and-while Pancho canters away, I hold the branch for dear life. I swing hard down from the branch and land on my back on the ground. Elsa turns around to find me laughing.

Only a few hours before I had briefly mentioned how I thought it was cool in movies when people grab onto branches and their horse runs away naked of his rider. Ya, I did that.

But the adventure is not over. As soon as I am back on the horse the rains begins to fall, the thunder crash, and the lightning flash flash flashhhh. Here, there, everywhere there is lightning- so close I fear we will be hit. Moving targets through open fields open fields we soar- so fast that the rain hitting my face hurts, and I can’t keep my eyes open. “Please, for the love of God, no more running me into branches Mr. Pancho,”- I think, while holding on tightly to the saddle.

After a few more hours through the driving then gentle rain, we arrive at the finca and race back to the stables. Every part of my body is wet, and every part of my body is sore. For a week it hurts to walk, but heck it was an a-m-a-z-i-n-g day.

Canada Day at Semuc Champey.

One 530am morning in Guatemala, after seeing Tikal- the cool-time-beans pyramids in the jungle of North Guatemala, we (Cam, Allison, Jeff the eccentric Australian, and Elsa the well-travelled French woman) set off by the light of the sunrise for a hitch-hiking adventure. After a day of sheer luck and the generosity of Guatemalan folks, we arrive in Lanquin. The next day, Canada day, we go, by foot, on the 9 km journey up the mountain to Semuc Champey (beautiful waterfalls in the jungle). We bring along with us Jeff’s pot, some food to cook, and matches.

After a grueling but breath-takingly beautiful walk we arrive in Semuc Champey where we bathe our sorrows (sweat) away in the pristine river and waterfalls. When we get hungry we leave the park, and find a spot along the road where we build a fire and make a wonderful meal of salsa, guacamole, and hummus (we had to cook the chick peas)… we are joined by Mayan children- energetic boys and 2 bashful girls- and in their company the afternoon is purely delightful. For dessert we buy homemade chocolate from the little girls that has been made by their mothers- vanilla, cinnamon, and cardamom flavours… delightful. Jeff and Elsa learn how to sing “Oh Canada” on the 9 km walk home, and even though we are far from home it feels like a grand Canadian celebration.

A few days later we head to Lago Atitlan where we watch the sun come up over the lake and almost flip kayaks in late morning waves.

After that we visit Xela, the city that smells like a city. At night the waning moon shines from behind the city’s clouds to light up the quiet city with a dim light. The crazy and wonderfully hilarious group of Israelis fills the hostel kitchen with their jokes and inevitable laughter.

Then we go to Antigua, the city that smells like flowers, fine foods, and foreigners. We climb a lava-leaking volcano, we sit in parks and watch people go about their lives, we meet fellow travelers, we test our limits with the squishy chicken buses…

and then we split up.