When Good Macaws Go Bad, No Sleep in Antigua, Templos in Tikal, and Revolutionary Southern Mexico.

Hello once again, friends and family!

Our last blog post finished with our visit to the ruins of the town of Copan Ruinas, Honduras.  Over the past little while, we have been our usual busy, touring selves.  We spent our final day in Honduras at a park called Macaw Mountain –where Robert was harassed by a gang of scarlet macaws-, we experienced the absolute wonder that in Antigua, Guatemala during Semana Santa (Holy Week –i.e. Easter to you and I), a little bit of Lake Atitlan (sadly, the weather was not very good and we stayed only a day), and the marvellously authentic Mexican indigenous town of San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas, a paltry four hours north of the Guatemalan border.  This evening –in a few hours, in fact- we will reluctantly depart San Cristobal for the surfing coastal town of Puerto Escondido in the province of Oaxaca. 

We really had an absolutely wonderful time in Copan Ruinas, a tiny farm town in northern Honduras and about half an hour from the Guatemalan border.  We had planned our last day in Honduras to be relatively relaxing, visiting rehabilitated exotic birds (most were poached for pets and their owners simply could no longer take care of them, some were given to the centre after the birds became ill, etc) at the Macaw Mountain centre.  About ten minutes of the centre of Copan Ruinas, we took a very scary tuk-tuk ride up some very steep roads and finally arrived to aviary Arcadia.  The birds are in large cages, some of which are very large and visitors are able to even walk through them.  We saw a myriad of different macaws, toucans (their beaks are REALLY scary … beautiful, but the edges are serrated like a bread knife and they have very long, thin tongues), and some pygmy owls and horned owls (not exactly exotic for we Canadians, but nice to see nonetheless!).  There are only two enclosures through which visitors are able to walk, however, after our experience in the second enclosure … perhaps one enclosure is more than enough.  Upon entrance to the second cage, three (huge!) scarlet macaws started screaming viciously (at least that is how it sounded at the time …) and immediately flew onto a branch that hung low over the path we were supposed to walk upon.  A little bit frightened, we dithered for a moment whilst deciding whether to duck (extremely) low under the branch and hurry past the three parrot gangsters.  Robert decided to go first and as he approached the branch, one macaw crossed the branch to approach Robert with an alacrity that can only be classified as alarming.  Slightly more nervous now, Robert tried to sidle away from the macaw, however he was followed and the macaw reached out to snap at him with his very large, very sharp beak, instead head-butting him.  Fortunately for Robert’s ear, the macaw missed and Robert dashed back to me, only to be followed by another crimson crony that had landed upon the cement path and was now intent upon nipping at Robert’s poor feet.  He landed a scratch or two and the two of us ran like mad out of the enclosure.  We made our way to an open interactive area which was occupied by at least fifteen to twenty macaws and toucans, all sitting happily upon tree branches and enjoying the water from a sprinkler in the centre of the clearing.  We managed to get quite close to a toucan, although after our experience with the malevolent scarlet macaws, we were justifiably wary of a bird with a considerably longer beak.  A few employees handed some lovely macaws to us and we snapped a few photos with the heavy birds.  The scarlet macaw we are holding in the picture was a wee little baby who was very curious; he was rather fond of crawling up your arm by using his beak and then nibbling at your sunglasses and bathing suit ties.  Very sweet! 

The next morning, we hopped on a shuttle bus and headed for Antigua.  When we had planned the trip initially, we had not planned upon scuba diving in the Bay Islands of Honduras, however we had indeed planned upon staying for a while in Honduran Caribbean paradise.  Both Robert and I felt a twinge disappointed that we had skipped the Bay Islands until we arrived in the gorgeous colonial city of Antigua, Guatemala.  Four days of scuba diving meant nothing in comparison to (finally!!) seeing and experiencing some Central American culture firsthand.  South America, we have found, was absolutely rich with culture in nearly every locale we visited, except for perhaps more Westernized cities such as Santiago, Chile.  Each country had its own different cultures and it was lovely to see so much going on all the time.  Unfortunately, we did not experience much Central American culture –though certainly not for lack of trying- until our arrival in Copan Ruinas, Honduras.  In any case, it seems that Guatemala and southern Mexico are full of local culture and have so far been much more to our taste than Nicaragua, Panama or Costa Rica.  Antigua is famous for its elaborate celebrations in the days leading up to Easter Sunday.  As it turns out, Maundy Thursday and Good Friday are the two largest celebration days with Sunday perhaps more reserved for church-going as opposed to parading through the streets.  The churches in Antigua form processions with the statues from their altars and parade them around town on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday (to a much lesser extent).  On Thursday and Friday, locals as well as church parish members create elaborate “carpets,” or alfombras, in Spanish, made of vibrantly dyed sawdust, vegetables, leaves, fruits and flowers.  The cobblestone streets are first washed with water to clear any rubbish as well as to ensure that the sawdust or leaves stick to the road.  Next, a border is usually created using wooden planks to ensure that the carpets are indeed a rectangle (unless the carpet is to be in another shape, which was not as common).  A base layer of leaves or sawdust is then applied, sometimes on top of other wooden planks so that the alfombra is even.  Then the workers cover the base layer with intricate designs in flowers, fruits, vegetables or with coloured saw dust.  After a coloured base has been made with the sawdust, usually stencils are applied and designs are created upon the base to make a carpet.  When the designs are finished –whether in flowers and leaves or in sawdust- the workers gently spray the whole carpet with water to hold the carpet down and maintain their integrity before the church processions come to trample them.  Some of these alfombras are absolutely magnificent and take hours to create; usually workers create them the day of the procession for which they are created.  On Thursday night, the children from Antigua stay up all night to create these carpets under the watchful eyes of their parents and grandparents who are concerned about passing on this lovely tradition. 

We saw our very first Easter procession on Wednesday evening in the central park of Antigua.  Hoardes of church-going males clad in purple robes held up a wooden float with a statue of Christ and another float with the Virgin Mary.  A band of drums, cymbals, trumpets and other instruments followed, playing solemn music.  It was certainly a sight to see!  Thursday hosted three separate church processions, most lasting eight hours or more.  Again, there were statues of Jesus and Mary as well as hundreds of men dressed in purple robes.  On Thursday, however, the presence of alfombras on the street made the processions much more interesting.  Young boys in their robes swung lanterns filled with incense (the whole city smelled of incense that weekend, it was lovely!  You could see a procession coming from miles away with the clouds of incense and the statues hoisted high) over the alfombras and the men passed along the sides of the alfombras until the statue upon a float would come and the men carrying the float would tread upon the alfombras themselves.  Hours spent creating those carpets and only twenty minutes to destroy it completely!  The processions would often last all day, some going on as long as twelve hours.  It was quite entertaining to spot fathers carrying the float as well as their sleeping, purple-robe clad son, younger men drinking slurpies, and others talking on cell phones.  It would probably get quite boring after awhile!  Robert had stumbled upon a cigar and wine bar on Wednesday that he insisted we try, and after seeing more than our fair share of processions and alfombras, we head for the bar.  It turned out that the owner was an expat from Calgary, of all places!  We chatted for quite awhile, enjoying smoked fish and a few drinks (wine for me, twenty-three year old aged rum and a cigar for Robert).  The owner was kind enough to invite us to help with creating his very own alfombra in front of his store on Saturday.  We readily accepted, even before hearing that there would be snacks and free sangria for the helpers.

After a long Thursday of battling crowds and street vendors selling a type of whistle that sounds like a dying cat (amusing for the first couple of minutes and then absolutely aggravating) and searching for alfombras throughout the town, we decided to take a nap for the evening and wake up around 2:00am to see all the madness in the streets at that hour.  Unfortunately, when our alarm clock went off, we awoke to the terrible sound of heavy rain: the alfombras would have been completely destroyed.  Saddened by the lost effort that had been put into the ruined alfombras, we decided to go back to sleep and wake up in time for the commencement of the first procession of Good Friday from La Merced church at 4:00am.  Fighting through huge crowds of people, we arrived in time for the departure of the procession and even were able to see men dressed as Roman soldiers clatter through the streets on horseback and in chariots.  There was a ceremonial condemning of Jesus by Pontius Pilate and a figure of a man was hanged from a large tree in front of the church.  We made a mad dash for the side door of the church and were rewarded with a view of the float with the statue of Jesus being carried by men in black mourning robes.  The alfombras that morning were unfortunately rather bare, given the heavy rain the night before, however because the processions went on for many hours that day, many people were able to recreate their  ornate carpets with time to spare before the procession headed their way.  Later on that afternoon, we visited another church for their crucifixion reenactment ceremony, a somewhat gruesome affair with multiple floats carrying statues of Christ in various stages of crucifixion and punishment.  We chose not to stay too long for that one since the statues were quite graphic and somewhat distrubing.

On Saturday morning, we were thankful that we were able to sleep in before the processions.  The people carrying the floats that day were still clad in black robes.  We lingered over French crepes and coffee for breakfast (there are quite a few French expats in Antigua, YAY!) and eventually wandered around town to spot some more alfombras and qhile away the time before we began to build our own!  At two pm sharp, we made our way to the cigar bar and promptly began laying the foundations for our alfombra.  We had such a wonderful time with the other expats making our “gringo alfombra.”  Even locals stood and watched (probably laughing at our lack of dexterity and general finesse!) as we drank sangria and stained our hands from pressing brilliantly-hued sawdust tightly into stencils.  Our alfombra was quite nice, though not nearly as elaborate or as skillfully executed as others.  Still, a great time was had and we chatted over some excellent appetizers and cigars (I gave mine to Robert!) after we watched the procession completely destroy our hard work.

Sunday’s processions were few and far between: there were a meagre two processions and thankfully, the streets were much less crowded, allowing us to wear our flip flops instead of our hiking shoes which had been necessitated by the sheer volume of people stepping on one’s feet.  The people were dressed in white robes to celebrate the rebirth of Christ.  Later, Robert and I had pedicures to treat our (very ugly) feet after five months of backpacking, hiking, and general maltreatment/neglect.  We spent the remainder of the day preparing for our daytrip to Tikal on Monday.

Our evening bus to Tikal left Monday night at 6:30pm.  It was a gruelling nine hours on a severely over air-conditioned and cramped bus, but we were astounded by the beauty of the island city of Flores the next morning.  We had breakfast and then found our tour group and drove the hour off the island of Flores to Tikal.  Initially, we were excited by our tour guide: he explained that he had been part of the expedition team in Tikal and was therefore an expert.  Awesome!  Unfortunately, after about an hour, it was clear that he was no such expert and most likely an alcoholic.  His explanations made no sense at all and he told us that he had worked for NASA and the satellites had spotted the ruins of an ancient city in the ocean right outside of Vancouver.  Oh dear.  At least he kept us entertained!  We would approach a temple that we could scale and he would point to a drink stand and wait for us there, hiding behind the counter with a beer or two or three.  We climbed Temple V, a harrowing experience due to the steepness of the ladder adjacent to the ruins (the steps were in no condition to be climbed).  There were about five flights of stairs that went straight up and the hand railings were painted dark brown, not particularly pleasant in forty-degree heat.  Our guide said that we were quite fortunate: usually the temperature this time of the year averaged about forty-seven degrees.  But who knows, considering what else he told us!  Tikal is an absolutely wonderful Mayan site to visit since it is located in the middle of the jungle in Guatemala.  There are exotic birds, monkeys and even jaguars (of course, these are very rare to see!) in the vicinity.  And of course the ruins themselves are quite impressive.  Tikal was abadoned by the Maya because of the lack of water in the area and the fact that the city rapidly became overpopulated and the citizenry could no longer sustain itself.  It is likely that as many as ninety thousand people lived in Tikal at the height of its population.  Tourists are only able to see about a quarter of the ruins –the rest are still being excavated.  Unfortunately, we did not learn much about Tikal from our unreliable guide, however we were both very glad that we took the time to visit the site.

Later on that night, we were treated to a gorgeous sunset over burgers at a gringo restaurant.  Robert’s chicken burger, however, must have not been cooked properly and he was feeling quite ill on our night bus back to Antigua.  Stomach illness coupled with the extreme change in temperature (from forty degrees in Tikal to ten degrees on the bus) led to a bad fever and poor Robert had a rather uncomfortable time on the bus.  Finally we arrived back in Antigua and after a few hours of relaxing in the warm sun and forcing water and medications upon Robert, we took another shuttle bus to the town of Panajachel, the jumping-off point for trips to Lake Atitlan, Guatemala.  The weather had not been very good in Guatemala for us, with the exception of Tikal: most of the days had been rainy and so foggy that we did not once glimpse the surrounding mountains of Antigua.  Upon arrival to Panajachel, we elected to remain there for the night for Robert to rest before catching a boat ride to the town of San Marcos, where we would take yoga classes and just rest by the lake.  We checked the weather forecast in Panajachel for the week and were discouraged to find that it would be cloudy and full of rain and thunderstorms.  Alas!  Robert needed rest and warm weather, so we purchased tickets on a shuttle to San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico for the next morning after shopping a bit in Pana’s markets. 

After a thirteen hour sleep and lots of water, Robert was feeling quite a bit better and his fever was completely gone.  We hopped on our early morning bus and had no issues until we reached a tiny mountain road about forty-five minutes away from the Guatemala-Mexico border.  Local indigenous people had decided to stage a blockade to protest mining in the area as well as the use of their land without their consent.  Our driver told us that we would have to wait five hours until the blockade ended and then he could drive us to the border, or that we could walk ten minutes and then catch a chicken bus (that we would have to pay for) to the border and then we could catch our other shuttle from there to San Cristobal.  A few people on the bus had lived in Guatemala and surrounding countries for more than a decade and assured us that these blockades happened all the time and that they always said it would take hours and usually it only took one.  Robert and I were okay with waiting, given his upset stomach.  Unfortunately, there is always someone extremely pushy (or a few of them) to ruin it all, and they lost their minds, thinking that we would have to wait all day and freaking out.  God forbid you have to wait for SOMETHING in LATIN AMERICA.  (Did they forget they were not travelling in lovely, efficient North America or Europe?!?)  Dear lord, find some patience.  Anyway, they complained that they would have to wait with the shuttle for us on the other side of the border and forced an elderly couple and an eighty-year old woman to walk in the extreme heat with their luggage to the blockade that the police told us “may or may not” let us through.  We negotiated for a bit, got through the blockade, walked some more to the chicken bus (an old American yellow school bus), and twenty-four gringos (there were three or four shuttle buses) loaded up our bags onto the bus.  Of course, right after we had all loaded ourselves onto the bus and paid the fare, the blockade cleared.  Impatient idiots!!  Robert and I sat on a two-person seat and after a few minutes, a hefty Guatemalan man decided to perch himself right beside poor Robert.  There we sat for an hour in an old school bus without air conditioning in forty degree heat, poor Robert sandwiched in between myself and our Guatemalan friend. 

We finally made it to an abandoned parking lot where the bus dropped us off and the one driver that had accompanied us supervised the unloading of our luggage.  The driver pointed in the general direction of the border and off we walked for another twenty minutes in scorching heat without much direction and carrying heavy bags through a packed market.  One of the elderly women on our bus had help with her luggage from one of the drivers.  Unfortunately, he ran off with the bag and we did not find him after that.  We made it to the border, had our passports stamped for the second-last time on our trip (so sad!!), exchanged our Guatemalan quetzales for Mexican pesos, and generally fumed at the pushy idiots who had cost us more money than we needed to spend, lost a woman her baggage, forced Robert with his severe stomach issues to trek around needlessly, and to generally have just caused a big ruckus that could have been completely avoided if they had just waited an hour patiently.  Our shuttle bus would have gotten us to the border even quicker than the chicken bus, despite the hour of waiting time, and we certainly would not have had to walk through a crowded market, fearful of pickpockets.

Finally, we made it to the magnificent town of San Cristobal de las Casas in the state of Chiapas, Mexico.  We had heard from fellow travellers that it was an absolutely wonderful place to spend some time enjoying the local very Mayan culture.  This town became famous in 1994 for the Zapatista uprising.  The Zapatista Army of National Independence was formed in 1994 by indigenous persons in the Chiapas state that sought control over their own land and resources.  They are not currently violent and though initially they declared war upon the Mexican government, their brief rebellion was rapidly quashed and they instead sought to be heard by the nation and by the International community.  They protested the signing of NAFTA, believing that the accord would cause an increase in the already terrible gap between the rich and poor in Chiapas.   They are currently a political group that seeks political justice for the indigenous and other dispossessed persons of Mexico and the world, notably also seeking women’s rights in Mexico.  There is quite the market trade in Zapatista wool dolls (one can purchase Subcomandta Ramona, Subcomandante Marcos, or two other of the higher ranking Zapatistas) and revolutionary t-shirts.  The Zapatistas named themselves after agrarian revolutionary and commander during the Mexican Revolution, Emiliano Zapata, and one of their slogans is “la tierra es de quien trabaja,” or “the land belongs to those who work it.”  The province has a very interesting history and we were wary of reports of locals punching out tourists who took pictures of them without permission (many believe that taking photos steals souls).  We found the locals to be very pleasant and welcoming, proud of the beauty of their province and town. 

The timing of our San Cristobal visit was perfect: we arrived for the Spring and Peace Festival and joined the locals our first night in the tamale tents, loading up on corn-deliciousness and Mexican hot chocolate before finally retiring for some needed sleep in our cozy hostel.  The mornings and evenings in San Cristobal are quite chilly, making for perfect sleeping weather.  We spent our four days here buying chocolate and handmade trinkets at the markets and wandering around town.  This morning, our last day in San Cristobal, we went for a horseback ride to the nearby indigenous town of San Juan Chamula, famous for its somewhat creepy church.  The church was built in the mid 1500s and there is an entrance fee that is payable to the Tourist office adjacent to the church.  Inside, locals congregate upon white tile floors covered with pine needles and thousands of candles.  Locals offer bottles of pop or homemade alcohol (whichever they personally prefer) or even chickens (they break their necks inside of the church!!) to whichever Saint they prefer.  People are all clad in beautiful Mayan textiles and the church is absolutely packed, filled with incense smoke and the flicker of candle flames in air currents, the noise of children crying, and it is certainly not a fire risk at all.  It was certainly an experience.  The candles were beautiful to behold, as was the outer facade of the church; we were grateful that we did not see the sacrifice of a chicken, however!

Tonight we have yet another night bus to the surf town of Puerto Escondido, known for its unusually large summer swells.  Last summer, swells of approximately twenty-five to thirty feet actually damaged parts of the town!  Needless to say, we will stick to the beach with the tiny beginner-friendly waves for a surf lesson or two during our stay there.

Thanks for reading and BIG thanks to our commenters, we really appreciate your input and kind words.  Please note that we will be posting all our our photos on our picasaweb account as well as some photos on this blog when we come back home due to the slow speed and generally shoddy condition of internet-café and hostel computers.

All the best,

xoxo Tash n Rob