Day 2

2/18
I sleep soundly through the night. The bed is actually really comfortable. We have to put up with the sounds of the urban nightlife for a while—loud dance clubs and cars revving up and down the streets, but it’s easy getting up at 7:00 a.m. I do my sit-ups and push-ups and am surprised John does a morning exercise routine as well.
We meet Diana and eat breakfast “buffet style” in the hotel. Cocoa Krispies, baby bananas, pineapple and melon juices (fresh squeezed from cantaloupe and honeydew). Delicious! We get nametags at the restaurant entrance, so that helps a lot. We also get our Info packet that tells who’s doing what at which school (speaking, handing out supplies, presenting the plaque, etc.) and what buses we’ll be on throughout the week. They mix it up, which is good. The team seems to be half older, half younger (below fifty). We’re all friendly with each other though as we talk and try to get to know each other. The COED staff members arrive today. There are six of them and they introduce themselves at breakfast. There are the co-founding brothers Joe and Jeff Berninger, Jessica Stieritz, Holly End, Mary McCool and Howard Lobb. They split up with us on the buses, which are the 18-passenger vans—a nice enough ride for our purposes.
We head out at 9:00 with Howard as our “tour guide” on Bus B. He explains about COED, the safety and health concerns of our trip and a lot about the history of Guatemala, including the cities and departments (states) we’ll travel through.
We stop at a restaurant, Kape Paulinos, a little ways into our journey to Panajachel for a bathroom break. It’s a nice place, like a Latin Cracker Barrel. A woman stands at a stone stove with red-hot embers on the top, beneath a large metal pan. She pats a tortilla out of corn paste and places it on the pan’s surface.
The air is cool and the sun is bright. There is still not a cloud in the sky. The trip is a couple hours through several small towns, farmland and countryside. Regarding the towns I see, I think to myself that our “strip mall” phenomenon is bad in America. Here it is nowhere near the same aesthetics as our fancy malls, but the concept seems similar. There are shops everywhere in small stretches for just about everything.
Passing gas stations is an odd experience. I see 21.29 posted on the price boards. It’s in Quetzales per liter. The Quetzal, aside from being the national bird of Guatemala, is also the basic unit of currency, right now at about 7.5 per US Dollar. The gas pricing takes a little bit to get used to.
In regards to the countryside we pass, I see many women dressed in the traditional Mayan skirts, (it is called a huipil) carrying bundles easily atop their heads. There are men, sometimes in traditional dress (the pants are called pantalones), though not as often, and they walk alongside burros loaded down with bundles of sticks or wood. I even see a man tilling a field with a wooden plow pulled by an ox on a yoke. So many of the crops here are terraced—grown in levels down the steep hillsides. And, the fields, at least what I see so far, don’t appear to be on the same level like the huge American farm fields.
We pass three of Guatemala’s largest volcanoes. The road we’re traveling on gives us a great vantage point for all three in a row. Although many miles apart they all appear relatively “right next to each other.” Agua (water), Fuego (fire), and Acatenango (tenango meaning ‘place of’). Fuego is still an active volcano and rises into the clouds. I thought I’ve seen mountains before, like when in the Smoky Mountains on the way to visit family in North Carolina, but these pinnacles of earth are huge! They feel so remote too, as if they are still presiding over an uncivilized time, and we are the time travelers visiting the distant past to view them. The volcanoes are to our left on the first half of our trip, and we are told our destination is nestled right among them, at the base of the volcano Atitlan.
Through many winding roads and dangerous passing moves, we near the giant mounds and eventually have them on our right. In reality it isn’t that far away, as the crow flies. We stop briefly at a roadside market with several booths selling trinkets. It offers us our first “close up” view of Lago de Atitlan and the volcano San Pedro across the lake. It’s breathtaking! The sun sends white and gold sparkles bouncing off the deep green water. The hazy green peak of San Pedro hides itself in a protective cloud of grays and whites. We are still at about 5000 feet above sea level (about the same as Guatemala City), but our journey here took much higher than that. It was definitely high enough for my ears to feel it.
One of the women in our group has a pack of hair barrettes. They’re cute. She hands a few out to the little girls around her. The girls are cute too in their huipils, chattering amongst themselves. One girl gets the trinket and runs off. Soon, four more girls come, and the woman runs out of barrettes for the rest of them. It’s sad to have to tell the girls there are none left. I’m just glad she didn’t get mobbed. We descend another curving roadway to the resort town of Panajachel and find our hotel, Porta Hotel del Lago. It is probably THE hotel. It’s the place to be. Our group jokes we are being spoiled.
The staff tells us, “That’s right.”
Since we arrived on the weekend, no school is in session to which we can deliver the textbooks. So, it is the perfect opportunity to get acclimated to Guatemala, sightsee, and get an appreciation for its culture and beauty before the “work” begins. It’s my understanding the hotels during the rest of our trip will not be so luxurious. We’re situated right on Lake Atitlan. John and I have a room with a small balcony on the second floor overlooking the lake and staring right at the volcano. There are a few clouds in the sky right now.
We eat a buffet-style lunch at the hotel. Mary McCool of COED joins my seatmates at our small table. I have a half avocado with a shrimp paste. It’s really good. The hotel even has a kind of chicken cordon bleu and breaded fish. I’m afraid to try some of the salads after being cautioned that lettuce can be risky to eat since they use the tap water to rinse it and water gets trapped among the leaves.
After lunch, John and Diana go their way and I join some of the ladies I had dinner with last night: Lisa, Suzanne, Robin, Carolyn and Alisha Havens. There is a long street on a slight incline lined with shops near the hotel. They want to go shopping and ask if I want to come along. For security, they joke. I do want to get some souvenirs. I’m just not sure what’s best to get—maybe some handcrafted items in support of the work that goes into creating them. With some of the things, I can’t tell if they are handmade or if the jewelry is even real. Several people come up to us with wares on their arms or heads (in the women’s case). I must have said “No gracias” a million times. I do get some neat hand wrapped bracelets with Sam and Maddie’s names entwined within the threads. We have a ‘Gallo’ cervasa, ‘Rooster’ beer, at a little bar across the street while we wait. It tastes like Miller Lite.
After the beer, a woman approaches me and holds up a blue knitted shirt in the style of the traditional dress. She puts it up right against my chest.
“Good color for you,” she says.
Actually it us, but I’m not ready to buy. Plus, I’m not sure if it’s a factory-made shirt or not. The woman gets me three times this afternoon. I hold fast and don’t buy. Depending on where we are or what we’re doing, it’s harder to say no to the little kids. The trinkets they sell are cheap, even if they’re not practical. But, if we buy a bracelet from one child, the other ones near him with blankets or wood flutes wonder why we don’t buy from them. I buy a postcard from a boy who says his name is John.
“You mean ‘Juan’?” I ask.
“Si, Juan.”
I wonder. He says his mother made the postcards. Maybe. They definitely are handcrafted. I’m pretty sure. There is a 3”x5” embroidery within the postcard. Kind of a neat gimmick.
From the earlier market place overlooking the lake and now walking through the town, I see some crazily dressed Americans. They’re not from our group. The goofy sun visors, overly large “fanny packs” around round waists, bright or clashing colors of clothes. It’s embarrassing to me, especially seeing that same type act so “American” to the vendors. I guess I’m still trying to show this country my respect with my conservative dress, quiet demeanor, and first attempts to communicate spoken in Spanish. I also don’t blurt out or force my English on anyone.
We end up walking along a cobblestone walkway right along the lake back toward the hotel after I buy a cool shirt in a forgotten row of shops leading down to the lake. It’s got the Gallo Cervasa logo on it.
Now alone and in my room, I sit on the balcony and hear the calls of jungle birds as I write in my journal. I glance up at the lake and the San Pedro volcano right in front of me. Listening to the ambient, peaceful music of Moby on my I-pod really intensifies the peacefulness here, as I’m alone with my thoughts.
About 5:25 p.m., there is some initial confusion as to when we have our COED meeting. The first papers we received say 5:30. The newer printouts we received after we got here say 6:00. I look for fellow team members hanging out to get a definite answer. I find a meeting room off the pool area with Joe inside setting up. He says 6:00 is the new time because they wanted to give us a little more free time.
I find John and Diana at the outdoor bar overlooking the pool and terrace area. The bar has a large wooden deck with wooden pillars spread out evenly holding up the roof. It reminds me personally of Porto Bello restaurant at Burnt Store Marina in Coral Gables, Florida where my parents used to live—a nice outdoor, beach resort atmosphere. I have another Gallo, and then we head to the meeting.
Inside, there are several unique fruit drinks in pitchers, ready to be served by a waiter behind a table. One tastes like dates or figs, or prunes. It’s brown in color and called tamarindo. The white drink is horchata, a rice drink. My favorite. There’s a maroon colored beverage with a spicy, tea flavor the short name of it which is called Jamaica.
Joe hosts a very informative question and answer session after telling what COED is all about.
We go to another buffet dinner, and Holly from COED joins us. It’s nice to have the different staff members eat with us. They get to know whom they brought on board, and we learn more about COED from different perspectives. I try heart of palm, which is the middle of the palm tree, kind of like bamboo but meatier. I also have some peppery beef and smaller finger foods. Dessert is good. It’s Tiramisu made with a fair amount of coffee soaking the bread between layers of custard. I also have some strawberry frappe. A four-piece band plays (loudly) in the dining area. The male singer performs ‘Volare’ and ‘Girl From Ipanema’ in Spanish. He does a good job.
After dinner, I hook up with Jim (he’s only 28 and teaches English Literature), Nick the High School student, Nick the College student and his roomie, Mike. We go to Nick and Mike’s room and listen to tunes on Nick’s MP3 player and external speakers. We split a cheap 40-ounce of Brahva beer bought from the small store across the street for Q21 (quetzales), a little less than $3. The stars out are really bright tonight. We’re hanging out on the balcony. I don’t see any more stars than usual, just brighter ones. The shoreline across the lake sparkles with a few twinkling lights, but the mountainside is otherwise pitch black. I can’t see where it ends and the night sky begins.
We’re just talking guy stuff. I go across the street for a 40-ounce Gallo and bring it back for all of us. Suddenly, the several beers I’ve had over the course of the evening creep up on me, and my scalp is numb. I stop drinking. The guys are going to go out to a local pub with one of the four security guards accompanying us on our journey for the week. I’m enjoying the company, but that’s just not my scene. I don’t want to get stuck out late and have to come back by myself or get too buzzed. Plus, I enjoy writing and winding down at night.
Back in my room, it’s only 9:30 p.m. John and I open the balcony doors. It’s stuffy in our room, and the hotels here have no temperature control. They really don’t need it, as things are pretty constant. Local music pours in from a band on a stage nearby, along with the chirping of crickets. The jungle birds have all quieted down now. I try to call home but can’t get the phone to work or get the front desk to understand that I want to make a calling card call. I’ll track down COED’s cell phone tomorrow afternoon. For now, it’s lights out at 10:40 p.m. on Day 2 in Guatemala.