Novel Times, Novel Measures

Goodbye Guatemala, hello Mexico! I left Guatemala two days ago and have begun to retrace my steps towards Mexico City. With less than a week left in Latin America my thoughts have turned unequivocably towards the United States and my return home. That return is shaping up to be rather different than I had planned, and very exciting. Consequently, as the adventure abroad winds down, I am preparing myself for continued exploits in the States. However, I am still in Mexico for a few days and am also trying to stay focused on that, as well as relax a bit before jumping back into pop-life, full-throttle. What follows is the latest roundup since I last checked in as well as a taste of what is to come.

Last Friday was the end of my Spanish studies and it is hard to believe that less than a week has passed since. I left my family on Saturday morning under the pretense that I would leave Antigua shortly thereafter for parts unknown. Ten days had seemed like ample time to make a few stops at ruins and parks before it was time to turn around and head north. Among my targets were the black sand beach in Monterrico, the natural water park at Semuc Champey and the Mayan ruins at Copan, Honduras. Considering my timetable I knew that I could not see everything, especially if I wanted to hit the beach in Mexico before my return flight. In the end, it was my indecision, abetted by many beers, books, and gringos, that kept me in Antigua until Tuesday morning.

Lest you think that my last few days in Antigua were some sort of debaucherous lost weekend, an explanation is necessary. True, I did succumb to a bit of sloth (as well as some fear) when attempting to summon the motivation to leave a very comfortable town for parts unknown. However, there were some definite reasons for my extended stay. I could point to another new Gringo friend by the name of Tom Brown, a vastly interesting fellow who has been living in Antigua and writing about his past 5 years working in the oil industry across the globe. Or it could have been the Copa America Final between Brazil and Argentinian which I had the pleasure of watching with Tom and a wonderful Argentinian woman named Karolina (who graciously acted as my substituate maestra de Espanol). Perhaps it was the ample supply of science fiction and pulp intrigue novels all over Antigua. The annual Dia de Fiesta de Santiago which flooded the streets with parades, bands and more was also quite fun. While I am still not convinced that “things happen for a reason”, I will say that, if only for the reason of pure fun, I am very glad I stayed on a few extra days.

Of course, there was much, much more. I also had the opportunity to experience some interesting and inspiring agricultural endeavors around Antigua. The first was a true fluke. At some point over the weekend Tom had mentioned that he might be accompanying Billy, the owner of a local bar, Monoloco, out to his new eco-tourist project – an avocado farm/hotel about 20 minutes into the mountains northeast of Antigua. Not wanting to miss the chance to learn a bit more about agriculture in Guatemala, I shamelessly invited myself along for the ride. Billy was happy to show off his place to some prospective guests, and so, on Monday, four of us hopped into his pickup truck and made out for Earth Lodge Guatemala.

Tom and I had the pleasure of riding in the back bed as Billy’s pickup wound its way up the mountain road outside of town. As cobblestone faded to dirt, the elevation increased and the view became spectacular. As with most of Gautemala, the mountain ranges surrounding Antigua, San Felipe and Cocotenango are rugged and stunning. In addition, to the south of town lies a dormant volcano, Aqua, which gently slopes to a dramatic cone, and further beyond lies the daunting spectre of Volcan Fuego, an active volcano. When we made it to the site, one of the other adventure capitalists at the Earth Lodge, Drew, told us how the previous evening had witnessed a fire display beyond compare: fireworks from the town fiesta, lightning clouds rolling through the valley, and lava erupting from the top of Volcan Fuego! Suffice to say, even without the fire, I could not imagine a finer backdrop for the cultivated terraces of avocados and rustic A-frames nestled into the forested ridge. This is still a new venture for Billy, Drew and the others at the Earth Lodge – the avocado bushes still need 2 or 3 three years until they produce fruit. I am confident, though, that once word gets out and the avocados start ripening, this will be quite a quite a successful venture.

My second agricultural exposure was of a more traditional variety but of equal excitement. It also turned out to be my last adventure in Guatemala before turning around for Mexico. One of the many charming aspects of Antigua is the men lugging large bags of nuts around the city. Depending on the season, one can purchase peanuts (plain or candied), cashews, pistacchios, fried lima beans, or, best of all, macadamias. More than once did I splurge on a half a pound of milky goodness, quickly to be devoured while strolling contentedly around town. Such nutty pleasure piqued my interest in visiting a macadamia plantation, which I did on my way out of town.

I arrived at the Valhalla Experimental Station early in the morning and initially did not see any other tourists. In fact, I didn’t see much of anything at first, people, crops or otherwise. Quickly enough, though, I realized that the shady, well-groomed path I was treading wound through the macadamia plantation itself! The macadamia trees were roughly 30-40 feet high and bore a remarkable similarity to American Beech trees. Of the two varieties planted there, one fruits year-round and has pointed, lobed leaves, and the other, with non-lobed leaves, only produces one batch of nuts per year. Later I was to learn that macadamias orginated in Australia so I can’t say whether there is any relation to our friendly American Beech.

The Station is run by a witty chap by the name of Larry Gottschamer who was born in San Francisco, CA, of all places. He has been at it down here for 30 years and runs a tight, impressive ship. The grounds are meticulously cared for and everything from the buildings to the bathroom has a classy, jungle flair. More impressive than appearances, however, are Valhalla’s mission and the diverse products which are the result thereof. Larry is actively pursuing the cultivation of macadamias by local communities in Central America as a combined, sustainable means of food and income. By donating time and seedlings, he hopes to provide a much-needed source of stability for indigenas here that doesn’t extract a heavy toll from the environment. The logic of Valhalla’s mission makes even more sense when considering the diverse and beneficial products from the humble macadamia nut. The oil is a natural skin moistuirizer, the nut meat a delicious protein that can be ground to a tasty flour. And, of course, I am now inclined to think that chocolate-covered macadamias eclipse even the venerable chocolate-chip cookie as the supreme sweet treat.

Well, this entry winds on and I have a beautiful beach awaiting my sore traveler’s frame. I’ll wrap it up now, but not before filling you in on what is to come for the next few weeks and months (and hopefully enticing you in the process to keep reading even after I am back State-side). You may remember that my return flight was redirected towards the northeast. Well, after hanging out with my good friend Jenn in Cambridge and rocking out with my peeps at the second annual NorthEast Kingdom Music Festival, it looks like I will be staying in Vermont a little longer than anticipated. Turns out my old employer, Union St. Media, has been rather busy and could use some extra design muscle for a week or two. Seeing as how I’m broke as a joke and reliazing that it would be great fun to be back in the office with Andy and the crew, I’ve accepted the offer. Soon enough, however, I will return to my grandmother’s house in NJ to spend time with family and friends and finish preparations for my drive across the country in October. So much more adventure awaits, including a 10-day Vipasanna meditation retreat (10 days of silence, I should say), a bachelor party in the Bronx, driving to Denver with my Dad, a wedding in Austin and, of course, the promised land, California. Exciting and new…

I thank you all once again for your continued interest in my journey. As you can now attest, it has been unexpected and enlightening in one stroke. The true weight of it all may not hit me until much later but I do know that, in the here and now, having you with me virtually has been an enormous pleasure and very real source of strength. (Can you feel the love?) The next time I write I will probably be back in the good ole U. S. of A. While I do not think I will send out regular notifications for this blog, I do hope that you check in now and again. It would be great to have you…

Until the next time, PEACE!

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Filed under: Mexico

San Cristobol has reinvigorated me. Easily my favorite city in Mexico so far, the past few days here have been relaxing and easy compared to my prior travails. The town is bright and cheery, full of adorable children and hardworking vendors, native custom and what seems to be a strong youth subculture, not to mention some great live music. Resplendant with multi-colored churches that border on gaudy and multi-colored fabrics worn by the local women that surpass beautiful, a walk across town always entertains. Using SC as a base, I have had the chance to explore much more of the state of Chiapas than on my previous visit here a few years ago. From mayan ruins to rows of corn to volcanic chain lakes, I have enjoyed every minute.

I arrived here last Thursday with my current traveling companion, Spence Casey. Our friendship is new and fast, owing to similar ideologies and idiosyncracies. Our connection, which began in a pool hall in Oaxaca, was cemented shortly after our arrival here through the exchange of eerily similar books – American Tabloid (James Ellroy), a total gem I picked up at a hostel book swap in Mexico City, for Charlie Wilson’s War (George Crile), which Spence had been lugging around. While the former is historical fiction and the latter a supposedly true account, both deal with the underworld of U.S. covert operations and the murky international waters they cross, replete with gentleman spies, beautiful women, mafia and mujahideen ties and ludicrous, yet all-to-believable tales of intrigue, arms and murder. Fun stuff, if not somewhat disturbing. Consequently, there has been much common ground for our exposure to the plight of the indigena here in Chiapas. In addition, after a few weeks alone on the road, travelling with a friend has been a welcome change, and the good fortune of salient, intelligent dialogue has truly been a blessing. Well, come to think of it, the conversation has not always been intelligent or even salient, but always entertaining. I digress.

The state of Chiapas, the poorest Mexican state, is home to the Zapatista revolution began on January 1st, 1994 by a shadowy force of locals striving for land reform in the face of government oppression. On that day, an army of men shrouded in black masks, mostly peasant farmers, walked out of the rugged hills and comandeered the capital of Chiapas, San Cristobal, as well as many smaller towns, in an attempt to draw attention to the disenfranchised people of Chiapas and the rest of Mexico. In their words:

“We have nothing to lose, absolutely nothing, no decent roof over our heads, no land, no work, poor health, no food, no education, no right to freely and democratically choose our leaders, no independence from foreign interests, and no justice for ourselves or our children. But we say enough is enough!“

What followed were long months of skirmish between the EZLN (Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional or Zapatista Army of National Liberation), led by enigmatic subcommander Marcos, and government armed forces unprepared for the stealth and courage of a people thought to have been marginalized. Much has transpired as those months have turned into years – hundreds of deaths, kidnappings, torture, escalation – but the fact still remains that indigenous culture in Chiapas has not been recognized, respected or embraced by modern Mexico. This I have seen with my own eyes.

The poverty and struggle are readily apparent here, but despite those signs, the general air seems to be one of amused acceptance of outsiders. Unlike Mexico City, or even Oaxaca to a certain extent, here I do not feel like the object of protracted, and, at times, injurous stares. Of course, this acceptance often does not go much further than the tourist pesos flowing through the streets – any attempts to strike further into the heart of the indigenous community here are met with stiff resistance. While the many gringos that breeze through the area have undoubtedly helped to bring international attention to the Zapatista struggle, I still feel a little uncertain that those directly involved actually want the help of outsiders. This is their fight, and for my own part, right now, I only wish to learn more about the issues and glean whatever I can from those involved or in the know.

Thankfully I have had the opportunity to get out into the country quite a bit over the past week. Traversing the countryside has not only heightened my awareness and interest in the ingigenous struggles here – I’ve also climbed Mayan temples, swam in blue waters reminiscent of the Carribean and been awed by the strong beauty of the terrain here. Spence, another new friend, Jessica, and I rented a car this past weekend to travel north to the stunning ruins at Palenque and the multitude of pools and cascades of Aqua Azul. And today, Spence and I just got back from another jaunt, this time to the east and some partially restored ruins and gorgeous lakes of Parque Nacional Montebello. The car rides, while tedious at times, wound through mountains and bounced through small towns with plentiful speedbumbs, offering an unhindered view of a very diverse state. The most stunning feature of the topography of Chiapas also harbors very distinct scars of the the poverty here. Ridges and peaks ripple across the landscape in an impressive display of tectonics and ancient volcanic activity, but the forest atop has been slashed, burnt and harvested into a ragged patchwork of clearcuts, new growth and maize crops. In certain places it appears that nearly 40% of the forest has been severly impacted, by whom or for what I am not entirely sure. While my immediate assumption is timber intersts, the suspicious lack of trucks or equipment on the highways leads to another possibility. It seems very likely that, in order to eek an existence out of their only resource, the indigenous people here are sacrificing a vibrant ecosystem and true natural beauty for firewood and cornfields. Unfortunately, there appears to be little other choice for them.

I’ll be leaving this wonderful place tomorrow morning. The border crossing into Guatemala at Ciudad Cuauhtemoc should be interesting. I’m looking forward to being back in Guatemala, both to experience it for its own merits and as well to contrast the life and land there with what I have experienced in Mexico. And, after quite a long diversion, I am also ready to jump back into my Spanish studies. Another exciting month awaits!

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Filed under: Mexico

Hello world! Excellent news. After 7 long days of waiting and fretting I can proclaim with the utmost glee that I have obtained a new passport!! It is 5:00 here in Mexico City. With any luck I can be back in Oaxaca by midnight. If all goes well with retrieving my replacement bank card at the US Consulate I will be on yet another bus at 8:00pm tomorrow night with my friend Spence, headed to Chiapas. Sally forth, tireless soldier!

As I type, the triumphant chords and brilliant falsetto of The Darkness’s power ballad ‘Love is Only a Feeling’ echo throughout the internet cafe. Strangely fitting for a triumphant return to my travels, especially considering that when I am really excited my own falsetto has been known to echo freely. And you can believe that right now I am both very excited and delivered from a darkness that had threatened to linger on for an interminable period. Hearing stories of other Americans waiting 6 weeks to obtain a new passport did nothing to bolster my confidence – in the back of my mind, despite all of my hope, I knew that I could be facing a long wait. In the end, however, my government beauracracy operated efficiently and in my favor. Chalk one up for the suits.

I shan’t dally. A bus awaits and the adventure continues. I did, however, want to update any interested readers of my situation. There are still more decisions to be made as far as travel plans go but now, passport in hand, I actually have the freedom to make them. As I do, I will keep you posted.

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Filed under: Mexico

First of all, I need to thank so many of you for sending out your love and concern in the wake of my lost luggage. Not only is it wonderful to be able to share my experience with all of you but it is that much better to know that my friends and family are keeping me in their thoughts.

I’ve had two full days, now, to react and readjust to the unexpected changes that were forced upon me Monday. My spirits are still high, and after sharing the tale with some of my new friends and fellow students here in Mexico, any lingering doubt of continuing on has disintegrated. I have been taking things real slow, not rushing to any decisions about what will come next and being sure to conserve energy and take care of myself. Watching the Detroit Pistons crush the LA Lakers in Game 5 of the NBA Finals with some other b-ball fans last night provided an inordinate amount of much-needed cheer.

Currently I am back in Mexico City, the place I so adoringly referred to as “the belly of the beast” in an earlier post. The US Consulate in Oaxaca assured me that by returning to el D.F. I could obtain a new passport within a day, two at the most. I did have the option of obtaining an emergency passport which would only allow for my return to the States. I could also have arranged for a new passport in Oaxaca if I had 2-4 weeks. Considering the cost would be US$85 regardless and that I wanted to be in Guatemala in 2-4 weeks for which I would need a real passport, I figured Mexico City for the real deal was the only option. With all of this the Consulate was extremely helpful yesterday, although somewhat trifled by my questions. Unfortunately, as I have come to find out, he was misinformed about the timespan necessary to obtain a new passport.

After taking the 1:00AM redeye bus from Oaxaca, I arrived bright and early at the US Embassy, or so I led myself to believe. Riding on a packed metro train to 305 Reforma should have clued me in – by 8:00 there was already a lengthy line along the side of the building. When I tried to join the line the shenanigans began. At first I was turned away from the masses and directed to the steely gates barring the front door. Then I was directed back to the original line, this time with an escort to offer an explanation for my entrance. You see, having no valid form of ID can create some obstacles to normal procedure. When I finally settled down to 2 and a half hours of waiting, the true effects of our “war on terror” were readily apparent. Nothing like standing around in front of a US Embassy in a another country to make me further contemplate my country’s foreign policy. I’ll refrain from the political monologue. As it turns out, those patience-testing and nerve-wracking two plus hours were all for naught as I was mistakely standing in the line for Visa applications!

Returning to the front door I had to wait at the reception desk for someone to escort me to the Office of Passport and Citizenship Services. I also had to ring that office 3 times to remind them that I was downstairs. The final blow was learning that I would not be able to receive a new passport until the following Monday or Tuesday – this meaning that I had to stay in and around Mexico City for almost another whole week. Initially this was depressing news. Now, with some time and the chance to flip through my guidebook, I’m viewing the wait as a chance to experience more of this area than I would have otherwise. There is certainly plenty left to see and do.

Now that all the hoops have been officially jumped through, the only thing left to do is to make some decisions, both immediate (what to do) and longer term (when to fly home). As for Mexico City, I haven’t checked out the Anthropology Museum which from all reports is fabulous (and notated entirely in spanish). Neither have I seen any of Diego Rivera’s murals that are scattered throughout the city. And then there is the colonial masterpiece of Puebla which houses over 600 churches, and Cholula which boasts the world’s largest pyramid (volumetrically, that is). Plenty left to see.

As for the weeks that follow, a game plan is forming. After I get my passport I will most likely return to Oaxaca and continue south to Chiapas with my friend, Spence. From there I will probably continue to Guatemala on my own and look to enroll in another spanish language school in Xela. Two weeks studying and two weeks seeing some sights in and around the Western Pacific Highlands should put me at the end of July. At that point I will probably be out of money and ready to return home.

And that’s the scoop. As I said, I’m not all that psyched to be stuck in Central Mexico, I wanted to be on the beach this week. However, I will make the most of my time here, particularly by starting to recreate my spanish notebook tomorrow morning. ¡Necesito estudiar mucho! There are other, more intangible consequences of the ‘bait and snatch’ (as I now exclusively refer to the whole ordeal) that I have not recounted here. Most of those deal with my emotional state and struggling ego. Maybe I can share some of that with you another time. For now, I’m signing off.

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Filed under: Mexico

Well, I was planning to post an entry or two about the past week and a half in Oaxaca and my intial foray into Spanish classes. That was yesterday. Today, in the second-class bus station, waiting for a bus to Puerto Escondido and the fabled beaches there, I was the victim of the old “bait and snatch”. Yep. My backpack, and everything in it, was stolen. You betcha. Passport, money cards, traveller’s checks, and photocopies of all that stuff, not to mention all of my clothes, personal affects, camping gear, etc. Everything. Well, I did have 13 pesos and my Mexico guidebook. That was fortunate, at least. Most important of all, though, I was not stolen. I am safe and unscathed.

What a morning. The progression of emotions has been quick and distinct – thankfully at this point I am feeling somewhat in control and relatively aloof. Being stripped of everything but my clothes and a book was both frightfully exhilirating and surprisingly liberating. I’ve run the gamut from anger to shame, from bias to compassion. And while I can say that this experience has born much fruit in the form of emotional work, it still has not been as challenging as a few of the days last week grappling with spanish. Hopefully I’ll have a chance to post an entry about that soon. Right now, on to the story of the stolen gear.

When I first discovered my backpack was gone I was scared out of my wits and running frantic. After being distracted by a boy asking me how to use a calling card, I turned around to find that the backpack previously leaning against my leg was gone. A surge of adreneline raced up my arms causing the hair to nearly jump off my arms. Frantically, in my broken spanish, I questioned all those around if they had seen a man run off with a large green bag. The ridiculous part was that I knew exactly who stole it and had been watching him – an hombre standing suspiciously a few seats away from me. It only took the momentary distaction of the boy and another potential culprit – a woman selling candies and whatnot – to break my concentration and open the window of opportunity.

After pounding up and down the semi-circular station questioning people, I reported the incident to terminal security. They offered little help and left me with little hope. I continued to question people as I left the station and it turned out that two fellas sitting at one of the gates had seen a man leave with my bag. I followed his trail to the left but it quickly became obvious that the sheer number of stalls, buses, streets and people in the nearby market could offer no hope at all for finding my bag. Right then the emotional cascade began its turn towards acceptance.

Now, 14 hours later, I’ve jumped through all the necessary hoops. Form after form, call after call, walking from store to store to obtain the bare essentials – my shins hurt and my body is sticky from sweat. Somewhere during all that activity, though, as anger simmered down into dismay, and acceptance settled over me, I began to experience a curious lightness. For perhaps the first time in my life I was free of a lot of baggage, literally and figuratively, and hence that much closer to freedom from ambition and ego. It sounds strange, I know, but it was exhilirating to witness firsthand the existence of an ascetic, if only for a moment. The few hours I spent wandering the streets, without money, without material possessions, without community, were truly unique for me. After a time of this awareness, I gained full acceptance of the fact that I had lost everything and began to smile at my situation.

Around 3:30 or so I was finally able to retrieve some money that my wonderful parents had wired to me via Western Union. Since I had no ID the security guard from the US Consulate had to sign for the cash. Talk about helpless. A fat wad of pesos, though, helped to dispell my burgeoning thoughts of embracing the ascetic life and wandering the world clad in only my boots, pants and Tenacious D t-shirt. Of course, after such a boundary-dissolving experience, what did I do? Go out and buy more stuff! I’ve purchased a knapsack and some personal items such as soap, toothpaste and a toothbrush, as well as a poncho and another shirt. I’ve had a meal and some comfort food – delicious Oaxacan hot chocolate and a frozen fruit pop – and have started to consider my options:

1. return to the states as soon as possible
2. shorten my trip, try to see a few places and study spanish a bit more
3. stick it out and return at the end of August as planned

Thankfully American Airlines will allow me to change my flight schedule without any additional fees if I don’t change the routing. As long as I give enough notice I have a lot of flexibility as to where to go from here. Right now I am thinking about the logisitics of #2 as I would hate to cut my trip off at a few short weeks. At the same time I don’t know if I am quite prepared for the full 3 months anymore, both materially or emotionally. I really would like to make it to Guatemala and study more Spanish. I need to get some more information from both my bank and the U.S. Consulate tomorrow and do a lot of thinking. Somehow I am excited about the prospects of travelling light and on the cusp of nothingness – a lighter, leaner, meaner LSG! I’ll post more when it becomes clear. Hasta lo.

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Filed under: Mexico