JJ's Travelogue

.. with the language, culture, and with people.

A married couple (James – Brit / Jessica – American) that are in my study group had a few of us over to their apartment on Saturday evening. It was really nice. Just relaxed hanging out with a bunch of people that I had gotten to know over the past week or so from classes and various activities. I’m not sure if we’d all be friends if it weren’t for being thrown together and almost needing each other for companionship, but whatever the reason, I’m happy about it. Besides the aforementioned couple, there is a non-couple of Aussies in our posse (Will and Mara). Later that night an American who lives down the block came over (Gary). He’s one of the typical burnt-out dudes who make their home here. It’s really easy to drop out of life and eke out a living down here. This guy does a bit of video production, and whereas his work wouldn’t cut it in New York or even in Peoria, he does just good enough a job to get by here. Much later in the night, I did a good deed by helping him get home after he was hammered and started talking about crystal skulls and various conspiracy theories. You know the type.

On Saturday, the five of us plus a Canadian family went on a kayak excursion that the school organized. It was mass fun. It took about an hour or so to kayak across a small portion of the lake to the neighboring village of San Marcos. After wandering around the town, my memory was jogged as to what I had read in the books – that San Marcos has become an epicenter for mystical studies. There are more classes on clearing your chakras than you can shake a pyramid at. Apparently this area has great significance to the Mayan calendar and religion, so all the white people that subscribe to that stuff come down here to meditate upon it. I’m sure the locals wouldn’t make such a big deal out of it (for themselves) if they weren’t profiting from the tourists who really get off on that stuff and claim that this region is one of the vortex energy fields, along with the Egyptian pyramids and Machu Picchu.

After wandering around the small village, our guide took us to a great swimming spot. The water is deep enough to jump from numerous rocks. I’m not sure whether what I did would be called cliff jumping, but the highest one was 8 meters (26 feet) from the water. Which doesn’t sound like much or look like much from below, but when you’re up there peering over the edge, it’s absolutely terrifying. Of course I succumbed to peer (and self) pressure, and made the leap. It was scary as hell. I had a long time to think over my life before I hit the water. Needless to say, I didn’t do it again.

On Sunday I walked to this same village, which took several hours. It was a pretty route, passing fields and farms. There is a town along the way (San Pablo) that I heard a couple of warnings about. Apparently tourists are (rarely) robbed along this route; so I didn’t bring anything with me save my camera – less to have stolen. I even brought a menacing looking knife with me, thinking that all those years watching Bruce Lee would save the day. But after passing the fifth person carrying a machete, I realized my puny knife would be no match. Seriously, I never felt unsafe – everyone I passed was friendly and warm.
I never know how much credence to give those warnings, since the more people I ask, the more different answers I get, and they usually conflict with each other. I suspect it would be like saying, “there have been robberies in Harlem, so don’t go there.” And the reality is, yes, it is possible to get robbed in Harlem, but there are also ways of minimizing the risk. Don’t go at night, don’t walk down quiet alleys alone, don’t flash jewelry, walk tall, look people in the eye, etc. Because if I listened to every warning I hear, I would miss out on so much. So I think it all comes down to common sense. Just to reassure you, I’ve decided not to walk the other direction to the neighboring town of Santiago, because there is general agreement that bandidtos operate in the woods between here and there.

Along my walk I stopped to watch a bit of a soccer game that I had heard was going on in the next town over (San Juan). These were the regional championships, and boy, were they good. But enough about the game.. I observed them setting up the P.A. for the announcer, and was impressed with their sound system. When it came time to power it up, they didn’t have any electricity on site, nor a generator. Instead, they unspooled a length of raw cable, the guy climbed the nearest utility pole, and directly connected it to the live wire. Wow! I’ll have to remember that the next time I can’t find an outlet.

Last night I was hanging out in front of a bar nicking their Wi-Fi when the security guard came up and started chatting with me. He taught me some Tz’utujil, the local Mayan language that everyone here grows up speaking. It is a crazy sounding language. Reminicent of African languages with a lot of clicks and pops, it sounds nothing like you’ve ever heard. I wanted to write down some of what he taught me, but I couldn’t even begin to figure out how to write down those crazy sounds.

OK, gotta run to study. I’ll be back to post more photos (and hopefully videos) later..