Guatemala: 14 de Agosto

Dusk at Monterrico

A month later, I'm back to wrap things up.

I ended up staying in Monterrico for four days, going back to Panajachel for two days, spending a night in Guatemala City, then flying home. My parents and brother picked me up in Atlanta and drove me straight to a family reunion that my dad's side of the family has every year in Callaway Gardens in Pine Mountain, GA. A lot of people talk about the culture shock of coming back to the States. For me, it just felt strange to move in between two starkly separate spheres of my life within the span of a day. Imagine waking up tomorrow with cold weather and Christmas decorations and Christmas music, minus the time jump.

I’ve described my time in Monterrico as my idea of luxury. I mean that it was totally carefree. No cars, no harsh weather, nothing expensive, just myself, great people, a beautiful place, and time.

I met Heather through the social work program, a sister program through NCSU run by Dr Wallace’s wife. She stayed in Pana for her work, where she found a scene of young, English-speaking backpackers and made some friends, including Adam, recent college graduate from Tennessee, and Tracy, who’s on her gap year from New Zealand. A stroke of luck: the owner of a restaurant we frequented in Pana knows the guy who owned Johnny's, which is probably the most popular backpacker hotel in Monterrico. We got a three nights for the price of one deal with the owner, Tony, the sharp beach-bum Scotsman, so we stayed in a big four-person bungalow with a tall thatched roof, a kitchen, and a small pool in front of it for four nights.

Monterrico is a lazy town with delightfully few tourists during the week, while we were there. I enjoyed walking into town to buy groceries: we’d walk about half a mile down the dark sandy street past shack houses with black sand yards. Hardy weeds grow around fences, pigs lumber around obliviously, chickens keep an eye on you, local men lie shirtless in hammocks in front of fans in the shade. One house was always playing merengue music. Little kids run around barefoot, ride tricycles, carry groceries back to the house. In “town” (on the main road), schoolkids walk around in groups, chattering in mostly Spanish. We went to a restaurant one night where behind a curtain I chanced to see some half-naked family members sitting on a bed watching TV. One favorite of ours was a lady who sold empañadas for Q1 and atol for Q2 (13 and 26 cents). The catch was that she made her own sporadic hours.

The four of us met two Welsh guys named Jones and Tom. They had spent some time working at an iguana research center somewhere, I can’t remember where, somewhere in the Caribbean. Jones juggled and spoke Welsh and sang, and Tom cracked the dry jokes. They were nearing the last legs of their holidays as well. We all had a great time.

Back in Panajachel for my concluding days in Guatemala, I got to stay at the house of one of Adam’s friends whose family moved down here recently but were back in the states for the summer. Adam and I ended up playing music at a coffee shop there where most of this English-speaking crowd hung out and/or worked. We both sang, I played keyboard, he played guitar. Our performance had bad parts, but it had good parts too, and was probably pretty good considering we hadn’t started playing music together until that afternoon. We played covers, mostly stuff that we both knew. Adam and I hit it off well in general; he might be coming to Athens for my 21^st birthday party in 21 days. Come to mention it, Heather and Tracy and Adam and I hit it off well.

My paper is finished, I’ve moved into Athens, and school starts next week. I had to write a “5-7 page typed report (double-spaced) describing the program or internship and its impact on [my] studies and long-term goals,” so if you want to read that, I have attached it here. I would recommend it if you want to know my final thoughts on my time in Guatemala. I'm attaching my final paper as well... read that if you're interested, but it's long.

Finally, thanks to everyone who has been reading. As much as you may / may not have enjoyed it, this blog was something I looked forward to while I was down there. It helped me process everything that was going on. Thanks to those of you who offered advice or encouragement or showed interest.

Until next time,
Daniel

We took a series of chicken buses from Pana to Monterrico. This picture was taken while the bus was in motion: we rode for hours packed in with locals. We made about three exchanges, and running from one bus to the next I would make sure that my backpack (which they strapped to the top) changed with me.

As we descended from the highlands to the coast, the air got thicker and hotter. Vendors squeezed into the already-crowded buses or would make exchanges through windows from the outside.

We took a van for the second to last leg...

...and a barca for the last leg. (L to R: Heather, Tracy, by the way)

local kids on their own barca

Our sweet bungalow.

lightning on the beach at night

One morning a local guy took us on a tour through the mangroves on his barca.

Tracy

Adam

Across the street is Taberna El Pelicano. Here is its namesake. He seriously just hangs out in and around the restaurant.

Notice the pineapple. We cut it into four big pieces.

Jones

Sometimes, the waves would crash right on the shore. Adam didn't make it out of this one.

Tom getting destroyed.

L to R: Tom, Jones

Tracy

We made our own atol: mashed plantains, incaparina, and cinnamon, served hot and thick. Actually, this is pancake batter, but they look similar. Atol is yellower.