A Lesson in Language

So, I've been debating how to best tell the following story. I've mulled it over, trying to decide on tone, inflection and making sure the story stays true to form. The reality? I can't. There is simply no way to explain the true absurdity of the event that transpired. So I'll leave you with this: "Bombero" in Spanish, means "Firefighter". "Bombadero" means "Bomber/Terrorist". You do the math, and let me know how you think that conversation went.

Él Matromonio

So after all of the travel, adventures and near misses with death, we figured that we might as well attend the wedding ...which technically was the reason that we came down here to begin with. The maid of honor asked the married couples if they had any advice they would like to give the bride and groom, and she would include the tidbits in her speech. Generally, most stories settled on "she´s always right" (insert your own joke here). After getting ready we all took tuktuks over to the church, which is in the center of town. Being the grigos we are, we arrived at 3pm for (get this) a 3pm wedding. The thing we forgot is that we´re in Guatemala, and time here just doesn´t have the same requirements. Needless to say, around 3:45pm, the wedding got rolling ...right on time. The mass was in Spanish ...but I´m told it was incredible (all hear say at this point). The bennefit of growing up Catholic is that you know when to stand/kneel/sit ...but being the only person on the brides side who knew when to do this, there we´re a few moments when I was definately "that guy". The churches in Guatemala are quite a bit more conservative than they are back home. Upon completion of the ceremony, the bride and groom weren´t even allowed to kiss... breast feeding on the other hand apparently was allowed...but how that agreement was reached is beyond me. Two people joined forever expressing their love?...nope Boobs?...yeah, why not. I´ll spare you the details and just let you know that the ceremony was great...and breast feeding is NOT as beautiful as everyone would lead you to believe.

After the wedding, we went to the reception at a resort on the lake. It was yet again another example of "places Josh shouldn´t be allowed to enter". Food was traditional and outstanding. Viño. Dancing. The hotel set off fireworks over the lake and tried to release a hotair balloon. The balloon was about three feet big, and used an open flame as a heat source... you do the math. The thing got about 20 feet of the ground, hit a tree and burst into flames (everyone agreed that this was not a reflection on the bride/groom). Everyone from California flipped out figuring we had just started a forest fire... the locals weren´t so worried. Remember, it rains here just about every day this time of the year. While we we´re trying to figure out how to put the fire out, they went back to dancing... 30 seconds later, the fire put itself out.

About halfway through the reception, a lightning storm kicked up across the lake. The lake is freaking huge though, that it only added to a spectacular evening. The rain didn´t materialize until 15 minutes after the reception ended, which was plenty of time to get back to the hotel and chance without getting soaked. A number of us gringos spent WAY too much time trying to take pictures of the lightning...but in the end, Baly got a hell of a snap shot with the volcano illuminated in the background .

After the reception, we all headed out to the local discoteque "Socrates". A good time. The place was packed, and you could pretty much count on NEVER getting a beer unless you had boobs... fortunately, I know some people who do, so it worked out. I should point out here that Guatemalan discoteques play music that is neither 'disco', not 'tech'. Its basically salsa...except not. The locals can get down to it, but most of the gringos in the group only made it about 45 minutes before crapping out. Suzanne made an appearance in her wedding dress, which I was quite impressed by. A number of the local students were out dancing, drinking and smoking... and I don´t mean local college kids, nope...I mean the local 8th graders. It´s either that or I am turning into "un hombre viejo" and just don´t know it yet.

Like a Bunch of Trained Monkeys

We woke up at a decent hour considering the evening that we´d had the night before. Kate and I grabbed 'desayuno' (breakfast) at a little shop across the street. The food here is so good. All of the ingredients are fresh and so long as they wash things in 'agua pura', you won´t catch anything. The night before, we had all decided to hike to the nature preserve so that we could see some of the local wildlife. A group of about eight of us hiked up into the hills where we met up with the wimps who´d taken 'tuk tuks'... the tuk tuks are their own story that I´ll go into some other time, but they´re basically three wheeled 'taxis' driven by 15 year olds that only occasionally obey traffic requirements. Once into the reserve it cost about $5 to walk around, and we crossed a number of suspession bridges on our way up into the mountains to view the waterfalls (consequience of it raining here all of the time...)

The hike was a blast and the group we were with certainly helped to make a great afternoon. Everyone is really easy going and interested in taking advantage of the time we have here in Guatemala... a few of the are also fluent in Spanish, which obivously has its advantages too. Carlos and I found a rope swing that definately would be a law suit back home... but again, we´re in a great country in which you´re responsible for yourself. So we spent some time trying to get hurt. The swing is on the side of the mountain, so it was a good warm up for our next activity...the Ziplines. The national park has a series of six lines which you can ride for the reasonable sum of about $25. Everyone was game, and it turned out that no one in the group had gone on a zipline before. Because the lines go through the mountains, most go over the steep canyons and take you passed a bunch of waterfalls. It was definately worth it.

We did have to do some battles with the mosquitos, and I think I only killed one or two for every three or four bites I got. But again, it was totally worth it. One of the lines was alomst a 1000 feet long and took about 40 seconds to go from one end to the other. Stopping also took a little while to figure out, but our local Mayan guides had seen it all before and managed to stop everyone before they went crashing into the side of the mountain ...a fact that was not overlooked when it came time to tip them.

Everyone in the group survived, and afterwords we celebrated with beers and snacks as we strolled through the national park, enjoying a huge butterfly preserve, which also served as a rehabilitation spot for an injured hawk. We also checked out the local spider monkeys and coatis (cousin of the racoon, with a longer snout and big tail). Begin the biology dork that I am, you can imagine that I was in 7th heaven and the group was kind enough to put up with me. We rode in tuk tuks back into town which means that we narrowly survived run'ins with the chicken buses as well as numerous pedestrians.

As soon as we got back to town, we ran into Whitney and Jason, who had arrived that morning from San Diego. Apparently, they saw us hiking towards the national park, but weren´t able to catch up. A big group of us, including Brandy, Matt, Oscar y Misty headed out to a restaurant down on the lake. As we were eating, it started to rain, so we went through a few buckets of beers before we finally moved on. The food down here is outstanding. We get fresh tortillas with just about everything. Fried platanos are also pretty common, and are great.

The next morning a bunch of us headed down to the lake to go kayaking. It was a really great way to spend the morning. We found a few places to cliff dive, but because it had rained all night, it was probably best that we didn´t. Reality of this place is that it's beautiful, but everything from waste water, to the street gutters runs straight into the lake. And even though I´m immunized again almost everything at this point... probably the best decision not to go in. Paddling on Lake Atitlan is pretty cool. In addition to the various towns surrounding it, you also spend your whole time looking up at the three volcanic peaks that dwarf the rest of the landscape.

After the kayaking, we headed to breakfast where we met up with the Fox´s (Brandy´s parents). We had a blast, but Brent made the fatal mistake of looking at some of the street vendors wares. Needless to say, as soon as one of the vendors knows that you´re looking, the rest decend like locusts ...on one hand, it sucks when you´re trying to eat and have a conversation. On the other, you have to recognize that some of these people have very little, and they´re looking at you eating a huge breakfast while they´ve had nothing that morning. Which actually lead to our latest discovery. The best way to get them to leave you alone, is offering them the food you´re not planning to eat. At the end of a meal, there is always extra tortillas, plantains or juice. And these folks get the biggest smile when you ask them if they´d like any in Spanish... it´s definately frowned upon by the restaurant staff... but so what? The best is when you give the fried platanos to the niños... absolutely make their day... mind too Good lesson and a quick way to make some local friends.

¿Una Quetzal Para Mi?

Kate and I woke up feeling great the next day...it´s amazing what a little sleep will do for you. The ´groupo´ was eating breakfast together, but we elected to walk into town through the corn fields along the lake. We stopped for some caffeine and bread at a little 'tienda'. My Spanish is actually getting better, and I wasn´t laughed at which was nice. We met up with everyone for a tour of Santiago around 10am... which means 1030 or 1100 ...remember, we´re traveling twenty-five deep at this point and moving from one place to another without losing anyone is like 'herding cats'. Most everyone here is of Mayan decent, including the town elders who gave us the tour. 'Mayan decent' means that anyone in our group is at least a head taller, which helps a lot when trying to find your wife in a crowd.

We walked through the town, visited the peace park just outside of town (created to remember the people who were killed protesting the military occupation of this area in the early 90's) and also toured the backside of the volcano which nearly wiped Santiago off the map a few years back. Quick history lesson: Santiago is a very poor area populated almost entirely of Mayan people who live directly off the land. Throughout the late 70's, 80's and early 90's civil war took its toll on the people and land. None of the locals participated in the war, but the government and guerrilla army's occupied much of the area and at best only 'took advantage' of the people, and at worst killed them without reprecussion. Depending on who you talk to, some estimate that as many at 3000 locals were murdered during the war. Because the elders giving the tour only speak the local Mayan dialect of 'Kakchiquel' it took numerous translations before us 'gringos' understood everything we were hearing. Fortunately, our ears are starting to adjust and with some limited help from our friends, the language barrier is slowly getting smaller.

In the mid-90's a peace accord was signed by the Guatemalan government and the guerrillas. Both armies left the area and the locals were finally allowed to govern themselves. However, in 2005, Hurricane Stan crushed the Yucatan Peninsula. It rained here for six straight days and eventually the volcanic mountain over Santiago became saturated and a huge mud slid occurred at 4am. Over three hundred people were buried. To make matters worse, when aid came to help try to rescue the buried and exhume the dead, they had to deal with landmines from the war that had washed down the mountain. You can see the mud line on the side of the hospital. The hospital was pretty far back from the town and people there were lucky... The hardest part about walking in the villages is seeing the kids impacted by the poverty. Everywhere you go, they ask you for "una quetzal", which is the local currency (about 0.12 USD). The kids are so sweet and always smiling... pretty much breaks your heart. I traded Anna y Juana a few quetzales for their picture. On the good side, it was nice to speak with someone under the age of 10 because they think my Spanish is fantastic! I´ve decided to try and only speak with children from now on... and with no child labor laws here, that means I can get about anything I damn well please!

After an emotionally taxing morning, Kate and I left the group and took a 'launcha' back to Panajachel. We bounced around a lot, but it was a bunch of fun. Traveling with the group is great and its nice to have a translator near by if you need one... but its also nice to spend some time with just Kate and attempt to blend in... plus, you´re not approached as often to buy crap you don´t need! Speaking of 'crap you don´t need', if anyone does want something from here, let us know. Otherwise, we´re not going to load down on stuff you don´t really need or want... except maybe extra Guatemalan coffee... which freaking rules, by the way. We grabbed beers and pizza (of all things) for a late lunch and met us with the group a few hours later.

We stopped to watch a local soccer match at the elementary school here in town. That evening, we met up with all of our friends and watched the USA v Canada Gold Cup soccer match. Obviously, I´m a huge US futbol fan... but I´m pretty sure the US didn´t deserve that game... and the locals rooting against the US would surely agree with me! We moved bars and found a place that had '2 for 1' drinks... now two for one on its own sounds great, but when you do the monetary conversion, you realize that you´re paying about 0.25 USD per drink... its like they´re giving them away... which also explained my headache the next day. We also went dancing that night at a local 'discoteque'... it was a riot. We´re traveling with a lot of girls, so as soon as we walked into the club, the local boys arrived in droves... like sharks to blood in the water. I will give them credit though, they´re really only looking to dance and hang out. There´s no groping or any of the other crap you´d have to put us with back home. I only felt obligated to 'save' a few friends over the course of the evening. Needless to say, there were 'muchas senioritas borachas' on the walk home, but it was a hell of a day.

An ´Orwell-ian´ Beginning

So the adventure finally got underway. Josh Zimmerman dropped us off at SFO and we caught our flight to LAX. After our 3 hour layover, we were informed that the flight to Guatemala City would be delayed an extra hour...sounds bad? Generally I would agree, but because I´ve been flying so much, and because they had enough space, we were upgraded to 1st Class. First Class is legit, but because we were coming to Guatemala and not England ...well, you do the math. However, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I will say that it was a good time, and I actually had to refuse beer from the flight attendant.

Upon our arrival...at 530 in the morning, we actually found our driver and hit the road. At this point we were traveling with two other friends and we stopped to pick up a third. Traffic is crazy. No real lanes to drive in and the streets are clogged with diesel-spewing 'chicken buses' and seem to always be carrying more people than they have room for. At one point, I actually saw three people hanging onto the door of the bus as it traveled downt the highway. Mind you, not in the doorway... onto the outside of the door... literally. Then again, you have to appreciate a country in which you´re responsible for yourself, and if you get hurt...w ell, that´s just your bad. The drive was fine, if you consider riding in the back of a 'autobus' through winding mountain roads, while dodging oncoming traffic, donkeys, people and bikes "fine". Good news is that we made it from Guatemala City to Panajachel in one piece. Panajachel is a tiny little tourist town on Lake Atitlan, set under three vocanic mountains. It´s beautiful and known locally as "gringotenango" ...that in mind, I´ll let you picture it yourself... just make sure to start with a neighborhood that looks like either Rosarito, Mexico or Kuta Beach, Bali...now double the number of ´english-speaking-rasta-hippies' you were picturing.

We immediately met up with the group, and were told, "hey, we´re leaving in 10 minutes to go across the lake to another town for the night." Generally, I´ll elect not to attend when presented with too much decision making upon arrival, but harnessing my "inner Julia", we decided ´screw it´ paid for the hotel we were leaving, threw our bags down, and joined the rest of the group at the 'launcha' across the lake. Best decision ever. We traveled to the town of Santiago and spent about 40 USD to stay in a villa that...well, let´s just say that they don´t normally let people like me into a place like that. We sat by the pool and later that night hiked into town for a great meal made by a group of ladies who were widows from the civil war that had taken place here in the early 90´s. They we´re incredibly open with us, and their talk afterwards was humbling. They´ve been through so much, have so much less than us, but still have a positive outlook on life. In my mind, the best part of traveling is meeting the locals...and the ladies were incredible.

That evening, most of the group took taxis back to the hotel, but a few of us decided to grab some beers and walk back along the footpath...not far, but through the corn fields at night. Generally, you´re not supposed to because people do occasionally get jacked there...still, we were walking five deep, had a headlamp that I brought and had three people with us who were fluent in Spanish. Needless to say, we had no trouble, but it was a little unsettling being the last in line. At the hotel, everyone was settling in for the evening. There are about twenty-five of us from the states traveling together, both family and friends, but mostly friends. Everyone is outgoing and makes an effort to include you, which has been nice. The owners of the hotel have a two German Shepard's whom Kate befriended... reminded us of Aerial and Lilo back home. As we were working on about 4 hours sleep in the last two days, we drank the beers and called it a night.

How is my Spanish you ask? I´ll just tell you that it is rusty at best...but we´re managing to get along. We´re also fortunate to be traveling with folks who are fluent. One of our friends was speaking with some locals who asked him what he does for a living. He tried to tell them (remember, we´re exhausted at this point) that he works with "computadores", as in the internet...but what he said was "con-puta-dores"...the joke is subtle, but if you understand Spanish you´ll get it...which somehow I did. If you don´t speak Spanish, it´s not as funny, but the gist is that he works with a whore named ´Dora´. Good times...more to come.

Game Time Baby

Life on the West Coast ain't so bad...great beaches, mexican food, the Golden Gate Bridge, Tahoe, NoCal v SoCal rivalry, the 9th Circuit Court (and its clerks) and the greatest lacrosse teams to ever grace a field in Barbary Coast and Dub-C...actually, if we could get rid of LA and the Olympic Club, no one would ever need to leave the state. On the other hand, we do have to put up with that stupid three hour time difference when working with folks on the East Coast. That in mind, I began my vacation this morning by initiating a 6am conference call with one of my clients and counsel. I spare you the details, but leave you with one tid-bit. I'm on the conference call, attempting to not sound like James Earl Jones after a night of beer and cigarettes...I'm working my way through our discussion items and I get an email from my sister. She pointed out that trying to steer your 'beach cruiser' with your feet isn't a great idea. Now having 'cut my teeth' (figuratively...fortunately not literally) in the concrete jungle that is the Isla Vista gheto, I can tell you the following: 1) you can maneuver your bike with your feet...I don't recommend it after a night at Scott Kimball's place, but you can do it, and 2) don't read emails from your sister while on the phone with clients...having to explain when you just snorted for no reason is a little awkward.

Regardless, we take off this afternoon. Have I packed yet?... nope... but like any McGurk male, I have made a list of things I'm planning to bring. Do I have my ticket and passport? ...nope ... but Kate's in charge of that which is a good thing. Have I made sure to get my typhoid and hepatitis shots? ...actually, yes, but only accomplished that one yesterday afternoon. So it is game time?...Yup. Am I ready?...nope...but let's be honest, I play my best when I don't have a chance to warm-up and think about things. Don't believe me? Ask anyone on the Barbary Coast roster...after all, you don't get a name like "Worst McGurk Ever" with skills like these! Guatemala, here we come.