tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6450954304308752232024-03-18T21:38:39.440-07:00When is Shaun coming home?Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-10172803077537913912011-12-04T20:58:00.000-08:002011-12-05T05:33:15.943-08:00A Place of Hope and Love<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Tulum was a dream, but I'd like to skip ahead 5 months to real life in El Salvador. I just kind of, maybe, sort of, somewhat bypassed a few stories and experiences between Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, and Nicaragua. I hope to touch on a few of them at some point in the future. <br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Situated on a steep hill overlooking the dirty and sprawling city of San Salvador sits a giant concrete house. This is not just any house, though. It is a place like few others in Central America, or anywhere else in the world for that matter. It is a place of second chances. It is a refuge for orphaned, abused, abandoned, underprivileged, disabled, and neglected children. Founded on Biblical principles and overflowing with the love of God, it's a place where lives are changed. It is a house full of hope and love, it's walls cannot contain the smiles or the laughter. It's not just a house, it's a home. And it is properly named Love and Hope Children's Home.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irene, Eric, and I</td></tr>
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I had no intention or plan of coming here because I didn't even know it existed. However, a good friend back home (thanks Matthew, you're awesome) mentioned that he had a good friend (thanks Eric, you're awesome too) who was working at an orphanage somewhere in El Salvador. Four days later I found myself in the midst of organized chaos. The first thing I noticed when I walked in the door was the smiles and laughter of the children. I immediately knew that this was a house full of joy. And the more time I spent there only confirmed my initial impressions. The children of Love and Hope truly are happy. Regardless of where they came from, they now have a family and a place to call home. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner time!</td></tr>
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It is the people who run Love and Hope that have created such a nurturing environment. Not only do the administration keep the machine running, but they also spend almost all their spare time loving on the kids. They are extremely involved on all levels. There are a few paid Salvadorian employees called 'Tias' and 'Tios' (Aunts and Uncles) who live with the kids 24 hours a day. They are able to attend to any needs, come what may, day or night. In addition, there are also a number of volunteers that spend their days playing, hanging out, and working with the kids as well as helping out wherever needed (many hours are spent driving the kids to and from school and other extracurricular activities). </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNzwF7TZgkiz1UZvdVXuUyefG2zISoWMdvw_6rq4Z3Ptdd7YItaaYOzvFIiGjKGQWT5O013h9nADhyZ8McWmmXYqTCVrMjt7vjlbeLrp34SC84r_TIlRkld2u783XraadRbiJ-asQnnSU/s1600/IMG_7167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNzwF7TZgkiz1UZvdVXuUyefG2zISoWMdvw_6rq4Z3Ptdd7YItaaYOzvFIiGjKGQWT5O013h9nADhyZ8McWmmXYqTCVrMjt7vjlbeLrp34SC84r_TIlRkld2u783XraadRbiJ-asQnnSU/s200/IMG_7167.JPG" width="120" /></a>The staff is very important, but the heart and soul of the entire operation, the glue that holds it all together, is Rachel, the house mom. Rachel is an amazing woman, and let me tell you why. Rachel started coming down to San Salvador on yearly mission trips with her local church when she was 14. Before she graduated high school, she knew her heart was to help the children of El Salvador. Shortly after graduating, she moved to San Salvador and started the children's home. She gave up everything (or what many of us might consider everything) and moved to San Salvador (not exactly my city of choice) to follow the voice, the calling, the passion deep within her heart. And not only did she follow her heart, but she has, without a doubt, changed the lives numerous children who would have otherwise never had such a chance. I tried to talk with her a number of times, but we never actually finished a conversation because she was constantly tending to the children she loves so dearly, and that's cool. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Broken pipe + torrential rains = massive sink hole</td></tr>
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</div></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Back when it all began, it was just a small house with very limited resources and funding. But that didn't matter because there were children to help, there were needs to meet. As the years went on, the house grew as did the support coming in from her home community. A few years ago, they were able sell the old house and move in to the mansion (I use that term very loosely) on the mountain. There were only 4 children when she started the home. They now comfortably house 17 kids, but have had up to 28 at one time! Some have been with her from the beginning, others have shown up recently. Every single one of them has a story to tell. In my short time at the house I was not able to hear all of their stories or get to know many them on a more personal level. However, I did connect with a few kids and I would like to share a little bit about them.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoqZLpOhQVog0dRYuQlcGn9_hqoR7KYgJtjo5owh-ZsZg_1Q3EIZERVKxRq8EqHB-lsbGsL8-LmMRH24VAgCQ_5TLid644T-2_0XN2MM_KcsrsXlvHSPg8l9FWPCjazdQoX9W35kxXVDk/s1600/IMG_7598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoqZLpOhQVog0dRYuQlcGn9_hqoR7KYgJtjo5owh-ZsZg_1Q3EIZERVKxRq8EqHB-lsbGsL8-LmMRH24VAgCQ_5TLid644T-2_0XN2MM_KcsrsXlvHSPg8l9FWPCjazdQoX9W35kxXVDk/s320/IMG_7598.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Brenda is one of older girls and she has been with the home for 8 years. She is not the oldest, but is definitely looked up to and respected by the others. I was immediately stuck by how smart and mature she is. I felt like we related from the beginning because she could carry on a real and honest conversation, something difficult for many 12 year olds. She was just so easy to talk to while some of the other teenagers expressed little interest in talking to me. I guess that's life, one connects with some and will forever be distant from others. Or maybe my red beard scared them off? Who knows... As with many of the kids in the house, she speaks excellent English. I was hoping for a private Spanish lesson, but we never got around to it. One day, she asked about my middle name, Rand, which to her sounded like <span style="text-decoration: none;">rana</span> or 'frog' in Spanish. From that day on, she called me Mr. Froggy. Brenda is one of those I simply enjoyed being around. She is a kind soul with a great energy about her. I am thankful I got to know her and I wish her the very best for the future. I get the feeling that she will be successful in whatever she does and I hope to hear great stories about her one day.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf3TXjo3Zl9Rpn7MXcUjhFO-brigfzI3N_e-a6Zb9OSFiKwhMYfd-FnX6v0Wz3yMxdk3mQzKj4VEvVh9on9wPizpuZxcgP4NrOJUh8ocGlQCDk_9XQs7JAYDzvv40hYQxsHG-DKRIYTCo/s1600/IMG_7600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf3TXjo3Zl9Rpn7MXcUjhFO-brigfzI3N_e-a6Zb9OSFiKwhMYfd-FnX6v0Wz3yMxdk3mQzKj4VEvVh9on9wPizpuZxcgP4NrOJUh8ocGlQCDk_9XQs7JAYDzvv40hYQxsHG-DKRIYTCo/s200/IMG_7600.JPG" width="150" /></a>Kevincito, literally “Little Kevin,” is one of the smallest 8 year olds in the world. His weight fluctuates somewhere between 12 and 15 pounds! He is tiny and very fragile. His arms are approximately 1 inch in diameter, his legs almost 1.5. He can hold up his head on his own, but only for a short time. The only noises I heard him make were the occasional grunts when he is not happy. He also grinds his teeth often, a very uncomfortable sound to me. He requires around the clock care, for he is not able to function on his own. Kevincito suffers from cerebral palsy, in the most severe degree.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqxWohJk5TbbrBwUasiWUOMjQk9otbmRWNhOXmf1dWO6QBmgzJeaJGMORrmIZ6ycggQYFtvw3LWMUIkm6V6AZbGf6lW1TI8bzxXQuyXmWY6kckuzFM1SpwiRFj4GUBxzuMxR0DMf5P5xI/s1600/IMG_7602+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqxWohJk5TbbrBwUasiWUOMjQk9otbmRWNhOXmf1dWO6QBmgzJeaJGMORrmIZ6ycggQYFtvw3LWMUIkm6V6AZbGf6lW1TI8bzxXQuyXmWY6kckuzFM1SpwiRFj4GUBxzuMxR0DMf5P5xI/s200/IMG_7602+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a>I spent some time observing the little guy, and I tried to imagine what was going through his head. What did he think? What did he feel? How did he see the world? I tried to put myself in his situation. What would it be like not being able to communicate with the rest of the world? Being completely dependent on those around you? Not being able to walk? Even able to hold up my own head? I tried and tried and tried, and I never could quite put myself in his tiny, little shoes. All that said, he is still a part of this wonderful family. There is a family in the States who is trying to adopt him, but the paperwork is taking forever (standard for all of Central America). The hope is that Kevincito will be able to move north within the next year, fingers crossed. <br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhsANdVMdSuTmiJWapr66IbRkepuiIzopn-9MeyMANxZ5MD3NTff_S3AS2iW15x5kMSQqMz6HqBAmq98PK6vO9ll5xP3uafiO_GRxT6X59J7cP13Qw4qya9Y1pwZ9KcT2ZDMaRTE7VBM/s1600/IMG_7168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhsANdVMdSuTmiJWapr66IbRkepuiIzopn-9MeyMANxZ5MD3NTff_S3AS2iW15x5kMSQqMz6HqBAmq98PK6vO9ll5xP3uafiO_GRxT6X59J7cP13Qw4qya9Y1pwZ9KcT2ZDMaRTE7VBM/s320/IMG_7168.JPG" width="211" /></a><span style="text-decoration: none;">Ahhh, yes, and there's Tonio. Tonio</span> is another 8 year old boy who suffers from cerebral palsy, but his is not as severe as Kevincito. At first, I was very hesitant to interact with him because he was different than the rest of the kids. I had never been around special needs children before, especially those with CP. What do I do? What do I say? How do I act? I need to treat him different than the other kids, right? Those are just a few of the thoughts that passed through my mind as a result of my ignorance and lack of experience. The answer is simple, just be yourself and treat them like the others. True, they may need a little more patience and understanding and special needs, but they're just kids. There is no question that <span style="text-decoration: none;">Tonio</span> is different than the others, but he doesn't let this slow him down. He has trouble walking because his legs are malformed and they just don't to want to work properly. However, his upper body is incredibly strong and he goes wherever he wants with determination (and crutches). Mentally, he is also in a different place than the others. However, he is still very sharp and observant. He is passionate about music, he loves to listen as well as sing. He always has a smile on his face, and he emits a certain joy and peace I felt when I was near him. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can't help but smile when I see that toothless grin :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Tonio is also a clever little monkey. One evening during dinner, one of the young boys (who I named “The Biter,” never did actually learn his name...) started to chew on my shirt and eventually bit a hole in the back of it. I was a bit perturbed because it was one of those old shirts that is so soft and comfortable from many years of use. Anyway, after dealing with said The Biter, I had resumed to my eating of beans and rice when I noticed that <span style="text-decoration: none;">Tonio</span> was listening to music on an iPhone. I thought it was quite strange that <span style="text-decoration: none;">Tonio</span> had an iPhone. Where the heck did he get an iPhone? Suddenly it struck me that it was not his, it was mine. Apparently, as I was being attacked by Snaggletooth, <span style="text-decoration: none;">Tonio</span> had pick pocketed my iPhone from my shorts and figured out how to open my music library. Side note: no cell phone is safe in this house, from even the sweetest and kindest of the kids. If they want to play games on your phone, they will find a way. Almost every time <span style="text-decoration: none;">Tonio</span> and I hung out in the days that followed, he begged to listen to the music on my phone. I was going to post on Facebook that I had my iPhone pick pocketed by an 8 year old child with cerebral palsy, but some might find that a bit insensitive. I think it's hilarious. The point is that <span style="text-decoration: none;">Tonio</span> is a very special kid who has a lot of potential. He needs a lot of love and guidance, but that is exactly what he's getting. I never expected this, but in just a few short days, he worked his way into my heart and I can't help but smile when I think of him. I sure do miss that little man.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hauling sand to fill in the giant sink hole.</td></tr>
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<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">There are a number of others that I only got to know briefly. Chamba, unfortunately, is suspected of having fetal alcohol syndrome. He is intellectually very different than the others and needs a bit more supervision than the rest, for he is 100% energy, 100% of the time. But he's a good guy. He is a extremely musical, excellent at keeping the beat. I think it would be great if he ended up in a band one day. Ali is the smallest 8 year old girl I've ever seen, but she has more spunk, fire, and attitude than anyone twice her size. She will be a force to be reckoned with when she grows up. Don't even think of messing with her favorite umbrella or she will mess you up! At the age of 3, Cheyo is always on the move, always doing something, always off in his own little world, and often getting into some kind of trouble. For some reason I really liked the little guy, maybe it's because he reminded me of myself when I was younger. Leo is one of the teenage girls, but has more courage than most twice her age. Recently, she stood in front of an intimidating committee at child services and passionately explained that she did not want to return to the custody of her parents. She loves her life at Love and Hope and does not want to leave. At the home she has a family and a promising future, at her parents house she has neither. That takes strength and courage, and I wish her the very best. Irene is a sweetheart who is deathly afraid of dogs. Kevin is the older brother who many look up to and appears to be filling those shoes quite well. There are so many more kids, each one a very special and unique person with their own story to tell, and they each have a very promising future awaiting them. </div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMD2amQ82vvWrYVQhzm5enYqD8Niw0mUcdLL9qCmPr6FggPbfQ8jgnoOh_x9t1XIpagDqeFjgGuVwdF6uxNJ6CxKJFHU2g7IcoTPy5nJDKvgGmUFRF5-tYZnHjAzUxkZ59qMCeOHD1Gbk/s1600/IMG_7150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMD2amQ82vvWrYVQhzm5enYqD8Niw0mUcdLL9qCmPr6FggPbfQ8jgnoOh_x9t1XIpagDqeFjgGuVwdF6uxNJ6CxKJFHU2g7IcoTPy5nJDKvgGmUFRF5-tYZnHjAzUxkZ59qMCeOHD1Gbk/s320/IMG_7150.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Cheyo up top</td></tr>
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If you would like to get to know more about Love and Hope Children's Home, they have an excellent website: <a href="http://www.loveandhopechildrenshome.com/">http://www.loveandhopechildrenshome.com</a> You may be asking, 'What can I do to help?' Their greatest need right now is financial support. As you may know, many large NGO's put 25-50% of donations toward administrative and advertizing costs. At Love and Hope, however, all of the money goes to meet the needs of the kids and keep the house running. The greatest expenses are the salaries of the employees (only the Tias and Tios and security guards), food, rent, utilities, and gasoline. I can imagine it takes a lot of funds to keep this machine running. If you are willing and able, you can even sponsor a child. This Christmas, rather than spending your money on material things for friends and family, you may consider donating to an organization such as this in honor of your loved ones. Donations can be made directly on the website via PayPal, all are tax deductible.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicVIUk1uhRgTVYr6GeIA4SF_pmKfn2o84GZb2h_tWxzU4fO-xXAILgZl0tuaoz-RH3JzH4JPyizZpmIObNDw49AIqa6K7o447Mj6rhasHsOvyHsCdKlfCFnXYdk7uOhvJydhgm-VGLgXc/s1600/IMG_7138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicVIUk1uhRgTVYr6GeIA4SF_pmKfn2o84GZb2h_tWxzU4fO-xXAILgZl0tuaoz-RH3JzH4JPyizZpmIObNDw49AIqa6K7o447Mj6rhasHsOvyHsCdKlfCFnXYdk7uOhvJydhgm-VGLgXc/s320/IMG_7138.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>For those of you interested in making a more direct impact on the lives of the kids, you may consider coming down to El Salvador to volunteer. They accept short term volunteers such as myself, but they prefer a commitment of 3 months or more. This increases the involvement in the home and lets one get to know the kids on a much more personal level. Long term volunteers are also able to fill specific needs, such as a driving the kids to and fro. Teams are especially welcomed. Say you are a junior or senior in high school (or anyone else for that matter) who has never left the comforts of home and is looking for something special to do next summer, you should think about coming down for a few months. Not only would it be an eye-opening experience filled with culture shock and lots of Spanish, but it may also plant a seed in your heart, or even better, change your life forever. You may come with intentions of touching the lives of the children, but don't be surprised if you are the one who goes away a changed person.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzotFQjqMP_cSX90vWkq5hH3rDpHpBz61fOOop7Q2RucOoeuiugjrjBw0LKFH4xwuoxyFWNk4CQbKL_-oWpjlJcrNq5xnlCzo-lMt4wwIyG0OXjTru7kxBbRmlOKOJoFxQ3rwTKmIBX8c/s1600/IMG_7601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzotFQjqMP_cSX90vWkq5hH3rDpHpBz61fOOop7Q2RucOoeuiugjrjBw0LKFH4xwuoxyFWNk4CQbKL_-oWpjlJcrNq5xnlCzo-lMt4wwIyG0OXjTru7kxBbRmlOKOJoFxQ3rwTKmIBX8c/s320/IMG_7601.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I cannot say enough good things about this place. The time I spent there was too short, but it truly made and impact on me. I feel blessed and fortunate to have met so many great kids and volunteers and I am excited for each and every one of them. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI4H5R5TMt7BMqgKSdh6RX5m-nY3-Wy8hZCT2bu3tJQf3ep2fmCXI7H19wTZeG6JWBqyWBeVuJ8A8QPdybOXqMmvBR1c_OAQ9aPgyWg1Yi-gJSHugy88NTqQnOAFCwddGjODG7XM1jxhM/s1600/IMG_7149+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI4H5R5TMt7BMqgKSdh6RX5m-nY3-Wy8hZCT2bu3tJQf3ep2fmCXI7H19wTZeG6JWBqyWBeVuJ8A8QPdybOXqMmvBR1c_OAQ9aPgyWg1Yi-gJSHugy88NTqQnOAFCwddGjODG7XM1jxhM/s400/IMG_7149+%2528Copy%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="text-align: center;">Love and Hope is truly a place of hope and love! </div></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-10431669270537399552011-10-09T18:58:00.000-07:002011-12-04T21:02:30.577-08:00Tulum, Mexico<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(May of 2011)</span></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSxd0k4GzEYNu6Tl5bZ1PUtFfHPxyeebwPe_WQiHYYMy2dTcIQhyphenhyphenhTZB1jDKIIg8ISW5SYSS8d46fMbGPfuBrTi27AHO3KRHP2PSmyOkza7r8VH-BeTDEGK03k2ECXqhpLNEY_7f7NvcA/s1600/IMG_2745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSxd0k4GzEYNu6Tl5bZ1PUtFfHPxyeebwPe_WQiHYYMy2dTcIQhyphenhyphenhTZB1jDKIIg8ISW5SYSS8d46fMbGPfuBrTi27AHO3KRHP2PSmyOkza7r8VH-BeTDEGK03k2ECXqhpLNEY_7f7NvcA/s400/IMG_2745.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To the north</td></tr>
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">Aaahhhhhh,Tulum... </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZqT-UPlr1WVNpkbdxakmA7PpHqH7uXgEvXt2BgZD3XR-8aHc4KIEdMm3cotaWwDGYqcvlPxEMridnvNSgaiq2WeOKGlZDddkHCPiGEr3uq_uZ6mNoK4tj3jarh8sGccCxzcWqI-iT7yk/s1600/IMG_2808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZqT-UPlr1WVNpkbdxakmA7PpHqH7uXgEvXt2BgZD3XR-8aHc4KIEdMm3cotaWwDGYqcvlPxEMridnvNSgaiq2WeOKGlZDddkHCPiGEr3uq_uZ6mNoK4tj3jarh8sGccCxzcWqI-iT7yk/s400/IMG_2808.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mayan Ruins of Tulum, worth the day trip.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Words cannot describe...</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhg-3f89NBKT4KjHQDuigoXzrK9eLE0m0hXnWj0WTkPoUpIhiA3W96wED3GfCy6Afg8qJH_VDfTSXj_pbQQjam67EFlc0EDLXiM8oTwL_Xid18J3Jj31nQtZU85lUTHy9zJuQUUgPigLE/s1600/IMG_2821.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhg-3f89NBKT4KjHQDuigoXzrK9eLE0m0hXnWj0WTkPoUpIhiA3W96wED3GfCy6Afg8qJH_VDfTSXj_pbQQjam67EFlc0EDLXiM8oTwL_Xid18J3Jj31nQtZU85lUTHy9zJuQUUgPigLE/s320/IMG_2821.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Oh, how I miss you!</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbKg9BXwIQmzlSw2jspy45SysQam9suasF0XdTCzqsFsXVwREPFK4x_jhIXIAa0R8_58YHUOWk8-_721tA_DqdWeHwbJhCQ7MTa_AGItXTda_3zfTsyVE_hMpMtr-tCMYFGgYxg9C0X8/s1600/IMG_2747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbKg9BXwIQmzlSw2jspy45SysQam9suasF0XdTCzqsFsXVwREPFK4x_jhIXIAa0R8_58YHUOWk8-_721tA_DqdWeHwbJhCQ7MTa_AGItXTda_3zfTsyVE_hMpMtr-tCMYFGgYxg9C0X8/s400/IMG_2747.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To the south</td></tr>
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Tulum is, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful beaches in the world.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIgFwKMxjT623XnB-Db5ymro3uKSADZRKzlP_ig2tj1SkiPZi1T7c_189n-w9prkHnL170051QTe_MLBolhUjFJ7rlpGNDNabS2yV9O57PC_5eg0Qi5UeiKyx4X7otSVxNZu4G-EMESA/s1600/IMG_2791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIgFwKMxjT623XnB-Db5ymro3uKSADZRKzlP_ig2tj1SkiPZi1T7c_189n-w9prkHnL170051QTe_MLBolhUjFJ7rlpGNDNabS2yV9O57PC_5eg0Qi5UeiKyx4X7otSVxNZu4G-EMESA/s400/IMG_2791.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Please take a moment, close your eyes, and imagine that you are in a Corona commercial. You are relaxing in a hammock under the shade of a palm tree, gorgeous beaches stretching in either direction, the soft, white sand still sticking between your toes, the most beautiful emerald green to deep blue water glimmers in front of you, the sound of waves lapping at the shore is music to your ears, a gentle sea breeze blows across your face, sea birds soar overhead, and, of course, there is a cold Corona with lime in hand... Yeah, life is pretty darn good. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKRsSxrq3OzLyGkWr5zznPSk_SfssTgxMlry_AUmrCUGXqZMHuLM9auihTSw-VnN1Bv_xHwMV35ZFUyfkr5rF5jEDnuvuP_tynNaLBrBqwOHZI54mAB_flA0ARa7mouOChcKuVRY88uE/s1600/IMG_2798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKRsSxrq3OzLyGkWr5zznPSk_SfssTgxMlry_AUmrCUGXqZMHuLM9auihTSw-VnN1Bv_xHwMV35ZFUyfkr5rF5jEDnuvuP_tynNaLBrBqwOHZI54mAB_flA0ARa7mouOChcKuVRY88uE/s400/IMG_2798.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I spent my first day walking the beaches of Tulum, taking in all the goodness and feeling as if I were in a Corona commercial. Late afternoon, I leisurely approached a beachfront restaurant to get an ice cream and guess who I bumped into, my favorite Swiss couple from Glover's resort! I knew they were in the area, but didn't expect to see them there. Of course, we picked up right where we left off in Belize. This included, but is not limited to the following: playing cards, talking about life, eating good food, taking naps, reading, playing some more cards, drinking rum drinks, enjoying the sun, walking along the beach...you know, doing what we do best. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhddMvZ-AhS0tBVJFAsW9RD9fqCChK9yBysqdO_qo0o0Q5ACWXE1E_NXwySSr19wU4R4Qtl9WgVgdrPeGi7XZCPKrRGdyKe6ijlIQ_gKIHTfw7jZA5MBxTet0P76ghPpwi_phqluVjicaM/s1600/IMG_2832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhddMvZ-AhS0tBVJFAsW9RD9fqCChK9yBysqdO_qo0o0Q5ACWXE1E_NXwySSr19wU4R4Qtl9WgVgdrPeGi7XZCPKrRGdyKe6ijlIQ_gKIHTfw7jZA5MBxTet0P76ghPpwi_phqluVjicaM/s400/IMG_2832.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tim, Steph, and I</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEH-MHf_fUtntTnpBSesmWWcbc7MLMxlK6uz0cgIIOmDZD7vHPI_IRC3RPMFJN-DVbgXzHHk2SHByXsRVC-FAKnqql6IZ_2JxwUxyBFwdiGe8Z7BDbJtmUFLzK_FnpAgX6QZL317eykE/s1600/IMG_2786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEH-MHf_fUtntTnpBSesmWWcbc7MLMxlK6uz0cgIIOmDZD7vHPI_IRC3RPMFJN-DVbgXzHHk2SHByXsRVC-FAKnqql6IZ_2JxwUxyBFwdiGe8Z7BDbJtmUFLzK_FnpAgX6QZL317eykE/s400/IMG_2786.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where many cards were played.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As wonderful as it was, I was a bit beached out after a few days. Sadly, we said out goodbyes again and I proceeded north to Playa del Carmen and then on to Cancun, neither of which did I enjoy in the least bit. They are over build, over priced, over Americanized, and over rated. Take my advice and don't bother with either. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">On a return trip through Tulum, I stopped off at Dos Ojos for my first cenote scuba dive. Cenotes are giant sinkholes formed by collapsed limestone bedrock and are often filled with fresh water. The Yucatan peninsula is riddled with cenotes, many of which are interconnected by underground cave systems. I did 2 dives with Hidden Worlds dive center. <a href="http://www.hiddenworlds.com/">http://www.hiddenworlds.com/</a> It was a bit pricy, but one of the coolest things I've done on this trip. Although I was never more than 50m from surface air, I felt like I was diving in a cave. It was such an amazing experience. There are so few places in the world to do this, so I would highly recommend making the effort to go cenote diving if you find yourself in the Yucatan. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwewj6UJ-nsiaaGqSfF-oT7jz_K9EUm5tQVvckXD8Do9GKwn2FYo7t9CjPCFXNhNJYsLvbDVW9uc0I5-Ep16WnFKueoiFulyJQPluMUffm-XdRyUdLNsrs7oKoo8e3i6neiEduW9n8JE/s1600/IMG_2732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwewj6UJ-nsiaaGqSfF-oT7jz_K9EUm5tQVvckXD8Do9GKwn2FYo7t9CjPCFXNhNJYsLvbDVW9uc0I5-Ep16WnFKueoiFulyJQPluMUffm-XdRyUdLNsrs7oKoo8e3i6neiEduW9n8JE/s400/IMG_2732.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gran Cenote, Tulum</td></tr>
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Ok, that's enough of me. Enjoy the photos and go to Tulum!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset from my bungalow</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beach at the Mayan ruins</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...sigh...</td></tr>
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</div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-74970024082422003002011-10-03T16:41:00.000-07:002011-12-04T21:03:18.634-08:00Belize some more of it!<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(May of 2011)</span><br />
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Well, I had written the original version of this post and had it ready for the blog well over a month ago, but somehow I misplaced the thumb drive and lost everything. I know, I should have backed it up somewhere, stupid me. Sometimes one must learn the hard way. So here it is, the second, delayed, and abridged version:</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFHxTYVmjSt9IB6Kg_C0VchgJ5mMosojPZ6yILVjJaNTOZy0xsD2VilzHG6ywDKP4XLnB6IzH93ytoMwcKzVzZ80B09lmsOXoPKmRN87WEM15bWP5k1Ju9e36YXV5hF3cNyD3eUvG6hac/s1600/IMG_2118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFHxTYVmjSt9IB6Kg_C0VchgJ5mMosojPZ6yILVjJaNTOZy0xsD2VilzHG6ywDKP4XLnB6IzH93ytoMwcKzVzZ80B09lmsOXoPKmRN87WEM15bWP5k1Ju9e36YXV5hF3cNyD3eUvG6hac/s320/IMG_2118.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Hopkins Humane Society</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The blood and guts didn't bother this owner.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>While in Hopkins I also had the opportunity to play doctor again. Thanks to a few animal-loving foreigners who now reside in Hopkins, there is an excellent humane society at the end of town where the gravel roads meet. I was pleasantly surprised the first time I walked in the doors. The clinic is small, but it is probably one of the best equipped clinics in all of Central America. There is a significant amount of foreign funding, but the key to the success of the clinic is the people who run it. These are people who have dedicated so much of their time, money, heart, and collaboration to help the animals of Hopkins. I met a number of great folks who each do their part to keep the machine running. I must say a very special thank you to Nancy and Les and Micheal. You guys are awesome! I cannot thank you enough for your kindness and hospitality. They also have a local Belizean named Joe who is an essential connection to the villagers. Whenever someone has a problem or concern with an animal, they just call Joe. The locals trust Joe and he makes sure each animal gets the care it needs. The great thing is that the clinic is run solely on donations, so the people give whatever they can to help. This enables so many who cannot even afford health care for their children the opportunity to provide basic care to their animals. </div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHgfORX0-42hjnEnddbQcLlUV4K-h1X1QjQ-w3j758v58eH0wM7sxnMFfSlSp70APZ5VSdAmO-ny-VXqmDD0xdb9sCWypF6aSfpVn1F9BZCAqY-X69KFfJjgka0Im2yNSQxWp8MAsovA/s1600/IMG_2125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHgfORX0-42hjnEnddbQcLlUV4K-h1X1QjQ-w3j758v58eH0wM7sxnMFfSlSp70APZ5VSdAmO-ny-VXqmDD0xdb9sCWypF6aSfpVn1F9BZCAqY-X69KFfJjgka0Im2yNSQxWp8MAsovA/s200/IMG_2125.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My surgery suite.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7738rNszCIboWrsPfZKuxUxNYx6y6454y0vB0jlyCKchoSnqTGWRUzbv_3yaZNDjaxQKKV3CFkG-J2kn9rCSMbRxOsl3SHdJk94QLoqRUQVnmMWeOpZxGBMeI0bBNhLLAVl3lbG9keE/s1600/IMG_2148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7738rNszCIboWrsPfZKuxUxNYx6y6454y0vB0jlyCKchoSnqTGWRUzbv_3yaZNDjaxQKKV3CFkG-J2kn9rCSMbRxOsl3SHdJk94QLoqRUQVnmMWeOpZxGBMeI0bBNhLLAVl3lbG9keE/s200/IMG_2148.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Surgery prep, treatment and <br />
everything else.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Each week, I would take a day off from the dive shop and help out at the clinic. Not only was it a pleasant change to be out of the water for a day, but it was nice to get my hands dirty again. I would do surgeries in the morning, then see walk-ins in the afternoon. I saw some cool stuff I rarely see in the States, I especially loved the tropical parasitology. One of my favorite things to do was extract bot fly larvae. These cute, wiggly, and sometimes not-so-little guys bury under the skin of their host to set up camp until they grow to maturity. When the time is right, they wiggle their way out of their breathing hole in the skin and fall to the ground to continue their life cycle. Most bot flies don't do much damage in domestic animals, but they aren't very aesthetically pleasing. The most I found on one dog was 20+. Heck, I even squeezed one out of the chest of some Canadian guy at a restaurant! Deep down inside, I kind of wanted to have my own little bot fly larva, maybe in an arm or leg or somewhere on my back. You know, a little friend to join me in my travels. However, even after all my time in Central America, I have not been fortunate enough to acquire said friend. I guess some are more fortunate than others. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PCAsfBY1Qq0HErrzsPrTdQj0Hide1Rd2l0p29Y4YaAe8IVU4a89a3RnQJvQ45wD83kV1JomhFILkoEwzVRv4n7jIBcqhDge2KJ6w3IdLWluQ-U87loXm_9BLo_StgTXeB-a4-x-vNEA/s1600/IMG_1624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PCAsfBY1Qq0HErrzsPrTdQj0Hide1Rd2l0p29Y4YaAe8IVU4a89a3RnQJvQ45wD83kV1JomhFILkoEwzVRv4n7jIBcqhDge2KJ6w3IdLWluQ-U87loXm_9BLo_StgTXeB-a4-x-vNEA/s200/IMG_1624.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bot fly larva I extracted, about <br />
the size of a quarter.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjogKzPzQIujoDGC916-ltk6kXe5nlAjAdFLGq22rJljBVWL8fYKXaLOjWAmhuiOk2O_4embcOch75U5AghNT4NXAQURe6M5uGWU9BN6G3KwjBEHr5huqupVXJKg_9WSxzXQjof00fYgrw/s1600/IMG_2126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjogKzPzQIujoDGC916-ltk6kXe5nlAjAdFLGq22rJljBVWL8fYKXaLOjWAmhuiOk2O_4embcOch75U5AghNT4NXAQURe6M5uGWU9BN6G3KwjBEHr5huqupVXJKg_9WSxzXQjof00fYgrw/s200/IMG_2126.JPG" width="200" /></a>It has taken a few years of hard work and education, but the people of Hopkins are now starting to take responsibility for the local cats and dogs. The children especially are discovering the joy that comes with having a pet. The village used to be riddled with strays wandering the streets. It is now fairly uncommon to see a homeless street dog scrounging for food. Those who have been there for a number of years told me that the overall health, image, and well-being of the village has improved drastically since the humane society began it's work. This is one of the few examples I have seen where a small group of people are changing a place for the better by helping the local animals. It takes a lot of time, effort, money, passion, and hard work to make a change like this, but it's encouraging to know that it can be done.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Joe, prepping a dog for surgery.</td></tr>
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I can honestly say that it was a pleasure to be a part of this good work. Not only do I feel like I helped out a few of our furry, four-legged friends, but I also met some great clients. One of these clients runs a resort on an island just off the coast of Belize. After taking care of her dogs, she kindly invited me to come hang out on the island for the week. Seriously, how could anyone say no to that?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glover's Atoll from afar</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The water was SOOOO amazingly blue!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After a 3 hour boat ride, I found myself at Glover's Reef Resort. <a href="http://www.glovers.com.bz/">www.glovers.com.bz/</a> If you are looking for a tropical getaway that won't break the bank (as will almost every other resort in Belize), I would definitely recommend this place. Don't expect all the amenities of a fancy resort. Accommodations are basic, even a bit rustic, but they are quite comfortable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My bungalow with 2 hammocks!</td></tr>
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I highly recommend the bungalows over the ocean. There is nothing quite like waking up in the morning and watching the sunrise from your deck. If you're too lazy to get out of bed and walk the 5 steps to your deck, you can even stay in bed and watch the sunrise through the open doors. Once you do crawl out of bed, there is a long list of things to do. You can go deep sea fishing, snorkelling, scuba diving, or you can do nothing more than kick back in a hammock for hours upon hours. The diving is actually quite spectacular just off the atoll (much better than most of the dive sites that Hamanasi would visit, and at a fraction of the cost). What I'm trying to say is that there is plenty to do on the island, don't worry about that.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Epic sunrise from my deck.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqqDqX7VYZ5s-uMbJ3LMh2c6jIY4VPxoA-SiZUzZk7L716C5VpT1ZTnIPAf1MsnhrBXALH3dJFSFVVCxClxjEYSyeIITKQhtaKxkZxHYGTdNg54B7PTJSVKDDKi_QZFmg4VVfi69RV4k/s1600/IMG_2623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqqDqX7VYZ5s-uMbJ3LMh2c6jIY4VPxoA-SiZUzZk7L716C5VpT1ZTnIPAf1MsnhrBXALH3dJFSFVVCxClxjEYSyeIITKQhtaKxkZxHYGTdNg54B7PTJSVKDDKi_QZFmg4VVfi69RV4k/s200/IMG_2623.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tim, Steph, and I</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I met a number of interesting folk on the island. My favorite was a young couple from Switzerland, Tim and Steph. They were on a trip similar to myself, but needed a week of intense beach time. We got along great from the start and actually ended up spending a lot of time playing cards, cooking, talking about the mysteries of life, and simply hanging out. Many rum drinks were enjoyed in their presence, for rum drinks taste better on the beach when one is with cool people. Tim and I even went on a night snorkel adventure (which I highly recommend). They were just so darn cool. Miss them I do.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTYqlz7AfEYNLGMz0dp9JK0-h5_5Iz9zOb1Nr0OekaDCOIOlxGDlb6bG610FUj4vG__08zpDUeut2_v5r26GgjMlPf-g24-OoMlml8Q_u8ewiZtg_AOeAr-nGs6VgYV924J3XGhoq5q0/s1600/IMG_2392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTYqlz7AfEYNLGMz0dp9JK0-h5_5Iz9zOb1Nr0OekaDCOIOlxGDlb6bG610FUj4vG__08zpDUeut2_v5r26GgjMlPf-g24-OoMlml8Q_u8ewiZtg_AOeAr-nGs6VgYV924J3XGhoq5q0/s320/IMG_2392.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It'th a thea thtar.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glover's from the boat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>There were a few other couples on the island, but the group that really stands out was 10 young men from the East Coast of the US. They came to Glovers to partake in a bachelor party of most epic proportions, and that is exactly what they did. How cool of an idea is this: take a week off of work and travel to a secluded tropical island with your brothers and closest friends to celebrate the final days of singleness! I would love to partake in such a trip for my bachelor party. In the beginning, they were extremely exclusive, but by mid-week they had included the Swiss and I in the celebrations.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I like fire, a lot.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awesomeness!</td></tr>
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<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">They came down to party, and party they did. You would think 20 cases of beer would be a bit excessive, but it only works out to about 3 beers a person per day. What was impressive was the volume of vodka, 'magic' mushrooms, home-made 'magic' mushroom vodka, and the 1.5 gallon bucket of pot packed to the brim. There was rarely a dull moment on their end of the island. Crazy guys + secluded island + lots of fishing + good weather + a bit of alcohol + illicit substances + fire dancing + music = epic bachelor party. All factors added up to an unforgettable week which got better as the week went on. What I enjoyed the most were the fire shows. Every night, Darin (a member of the bachelor party) would put on an incredible fire show. He was of the very musical and creative type, and he was one of the best fire dancers I have ever seen. The best show was the night we heard that Osama Bin Laden had been killed and disposed of. Darin started off by whispering “Obama got Osama, Obama got Osama” as he danced around the fire. Soon enough, this crescendoed into everyone screaming “OBAMA GOT OSAMA!!! OBAMA GOT OSAMA!!!” at the top of their lungs while wildly making noise with a bunch of random musical instruments. While all this was happening, Darin twirled his flaming baton at incredible speeds, repeatedly throwing it 20-30 feet in the air and catching it while continuing his crazy fire dance. It was awesomeness.</div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hermit crabs everywhere!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"></div>Sadly, all good things must come to an end and the week was soon over. Tim, Steph, and I had such a good time on the island that we decided to stick around for another week. It was very sad to see the bachelor party leave that last morning (most of whom were completely wasted and hung over. What better way to travel hung over than on a boat, eh?). However, we were hopeful we'd meet some cool new people the following week. Au contraire! We quickly discovered that the group of newcomers were not at all pleasant to be around. Many fit into the category of 'not cool' and there were even a few that classified as 'douche bags'. We were thoroughly disappointed, so we spent most of our time at Tim and Steph's place and played cards and talked life and read books and played cards and snorkeled and played more cards and drank rum drinks on the beach. Those were very difficult times, but at least we had each other.</div><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So hard to say goodbye to such<br />
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</tbody></table>It's amazing how fast time flew on the island. Two weeks of doing nothing went by so fast, but I was ready to leave the island by the end. After we said our goodbyes, Tim and Steph headed for Guatemala while I spent a few days wrapping things up in Hopkins. I soon found myself on a chicken bus headed for the Mexican border, and that concludes my time in Belize. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did some more lion fish spearing, I just couldn't get enough.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Belize is beautiful and amazing. If you are searching for spectacular beaches or wild jungle, Belize may be your place. The problem is that Belize is so darn expensive. The bulk of the tourist industry comes down for a week or two to relax at the over-abundance of all-inclusive resorts. They are amazing and wonderful and beautiful and spectaculr, but insanely expensive. There is very little for the budget traveler. I feel like I was able to enjoy some of the best of Belize has to offer on a backpacker's budget, but it took a lot of work and few strokes of good luck. I'm glad I saw the country, but have no plans on going back anytime soon. Since leaving Belize, I have found breathtakingly beautiful beaches with better diving, better food, and more cultural diversity at a fraction of the cost. In my opinion, Belize is nice, but overrated. You, however, may have a different experience. You won't know until you go!<br />
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</div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-56967636940004039402011-08-18T13:00:00.000-07:002011-12-04T21:04:00.305-08:00Belize it or not!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="EN">(April of 2011)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span lang="EN"> I have a thong tan line! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bustling main drag of Hopkins</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN">After my adventures exploring the northern part of Guatemala, I found myself back in the little Garafuni village of Hopkins, Belize. This was a place I never thought I would return to, yet there I was. Hopkins is a very relaxed village, almost too relaxed for me. You´d better not be in a hurry because nothing gets done with any sense of urgency. It´s kind of like `island time´, except without the island. It's a quaint little place, but definitely worth the stop if you're passing by. If you do, in fact, find yourself in Hopkins someday, I highly recommend two restaurants: Thongs and Driftwood Pizza. Both have excellent food as well as wonderful people who run them. Please tell Tania at Thongs and Ollie at Driftwood I said "hi". </span><br />
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<span lang="EN">The beaches around Hopkins are your typical Caribbean beach: lots of palm trees, beautiful sand, gorgeous water, but quite boring since there are virtually no waves. To me, the Caribbean is a giant saltwater lake. The beaches in town would have been beautiful if they weren´t covered in trash, a problem I am finding in so many places around the world. However, there was a gorgeous stretch of beach in front of the resort I worked at, but that's because the staff raked the beach every single morning. </span>I also want to mention that during the two months I was in Belize the weather was absolutely incredible. I can't remember specifics, I just remember hearing complaint about the never ending winter back home. Of course, I took advantage of every opportunity to enjoy this wonderful weather and work on my thong tan (I knew you were hoping I´d explain that one). I know it may not be the mental image many of you were expecting. Then again, it might be a pleasant surprise... Regardless of how you feel about it, it means a lot to me. It means that I have finally arrived; I can now consider myself a beautifully tanned work of art. I can´t count the number of times I have been approached by beautifully bronzed bikini beach babes who beg and plead to see my thong tan line. At first, I say that I am too shy and modest, but after a little persuasion *wink* I simply slip off my...sandals and show them the distinct thong tan line on each foot. It truly is a beautiful sight to partake.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hamanasi by night</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span lang="EN">I had returned to Hopkins to get my PADI Divemaster (DM) certification at Hamanasi Dive Resort. The first two weeks at the resort were great. Everything was new and exciting, the people were friendly, I was learning lots, and I was diving almost every day. I felt like I was on a vacation. I was scuba diving in Belize, and for relatively cheap! The diving was quite nice. I can definitely say it´s not the best place in the world to dive, but it sure is better than the high mountain lakes of Montana. I also had the opportunity to get to know some really cool people who were diving with the resort: a colorectal surgeon from Alaska (you can imagine the great stories he had from down under), his 80 year old father who wouldn´t let brain cancer stop his dive vacation, a great couple from Florida who run a Mexican restaurant, a crazy Swiss couple, a British guy I like to call Scuba Steve, and many more. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite dive site</td></tr>
</tbody></table>One of the first days we dove the infamous Blue Hole, a dive site for which Belize is internationally known. Technically, it´s a cenote, but to me it was just a giant limestone hole in the ocean with some stalactites and a few big fish. Overrated, overhyped, overpriced. Actually, the photos from above are cooler than in person. Also, we can thank the famous Jacques Cousteau and his dynamite for blasting a massive entrance out of the reef for his precious ship, the Calypso. Not exactly the environmentalist we thought he was. Anyway, the best part of the dive was the opportunity to go down to 130-140 feet and swim through the cave formations. I got narced (nitrogen narcosis: excessive nitrogen blood levels cause an altered, almost drunk or high, state of mind), and that was cool. But that´s about it. If you´re going down to Belize to dive, don´t make the Blue Hole your number priority. That's my two sense.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBzYrZ7DMG-3lH09yqj26gv4DacVhmeG0HaFfj7arb0dscYAGL_msgavoIQIwsGWRrZ-tlmkaYm3jCJqK09ChECX9fEAqTV6R7g5YLe87IzMhTwBGBlRqP7k96BMMILApK6BZeIdbEkE/s1600/IMG_2233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBzYrZ7DMG-3lH09yqj26gv4DacVhmeG0HaFfj7arb0dscYAGL_msgavoIQIwsGWRrZ-tlmkaYm3jCJqK09ChECX9fEAqTV6R7g5YLe87IzMhTwBGBlRqP7k96BMMILApK6BZeIdbEkE/s200/IMG_2233.JPG" width="150" /></a><span lang="EN">I love to dive. I have found that it is one of the most peaceful activities I have ever experienced. There is something special, almost magical, that I feel when I am under the water. It is such an incredibly peaceful, relaxing, and therapeutic place to be. Even a boring dive can be quite nice in my opinion. As you can imagine, I saw some cool stuff over a month of diving. Some of my favorite things to see were various rays, sea turtles, and eels; they are so beautiful and graceful in the water. I also found that I quite enjoy underwater photography. I think my instructors got a little frustrated with me at times because I was more focused on taking pictures than doing the DM thing, but it all worked out in the end. I also took an intense liking, almost an addiction, to hunting lionfish. Lionfish are a beautiful striped in orange and white with long fins that gently flutter in the ocean currents. What you may not see are the 27 poisonous spines protruding through these fins. In the aquarium they are really nice to look at, but the problem is they are an invasive species that are decimating the numbers of small fishes in the Atlantic. Without small fishes you can´t have big fishes, so their removal is highly encouraged. When the opportunity arose (and I didn´t have my camera with me), I would bring the spear along. I don´t know why I enjoyed it so much, it must have excited my underwater-caveman-primal-instinct deep within. It was fun.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The captivating whale shark</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">There are a few underwater experiences that really stand out. The first was when a 10 foot Great Hammerhead shark approached within 20 feet of me. At first it was really cool, but the second it entered my comfort zone, my heart was up in my throat. Fortunately, he was just passing by. The other epic experience was diving with the whale sharks. This is actually the primary reason I decided to do my training in Belize in April. For a few days around the full moon in April, May, and June, the whale sharks congregate at a point off the coast of Belize. I actually had high hopes that I would get to do a number of dives with the whale sharks, but the paying guests had priority and I got bumped off the list numerousof times. It was extremely disappointing, but it was what it iwas. Of the 3 days I went out looking for whale sharks, I only had 1 amazing day in which I saw 5 or 6 in a single dive. It was a spectacular experience! They are such beautiful, peaceful, magnificent creatures. I was in awe when I watched them move effortlessly through the deep blue. It was as if the emitted a peaceful energy that I could feel. It´s hard to describe, but this experience will forever be burned in my heart and mind. Of course, being the idiot that I am, I forgot to change my camera battery between dives and it ran out of juice mid-encounter. I was left to simply be in the moment and enjoy the experience rather than trying to capture it on film. The good news is that Scuba Steve (a client who happened to have the exact same camera, except with battery life) took some excellent shots and shared them with me. For that I am eternally grateful. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very good times!</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">Those first few weeks were so darn good, but then the luster soon started to wear off. Diving every day sure takes it toll on the body and I found myself chronically tired. The early mornings, readings and homework, daily DM duties, emotionally draining clients, gear maintenance, and tank/gear haulage back to the shop sure can wear a guy out. This was especially true after a long day on the boat, in the sun, and in the water. Simply diving every day for a week is physically draining. Not to mention that a DM is always on guard since he/she/person of undetermined gender has a huge responsibility making sure each diver has a safe and enjoyable experience both in and out of the water. There were way too many times I felt like I was babysitting the high maintenance clients. Don´t get me wrong, most of the people were great. However, there were a select few whose sole purpose in life was to make our lives difficult (yes, I know, they are everywhere, but usually I try to avoid them). I´m not a fan of this kind of people, they should not breed. Hmmm, maybe I should take my spay and neuter skills to the human field??? I bet people would pay big bucks to sterilize the idiots of the world. It´s definitely something I will consider. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">Anywho, I found that the days were long, emotionally draining, and that there was little down time. I also found that it takes a lot of energy to get to know a new group of people week after week. It seemed like the cool people would leave as soon as I developed a relationship with them, then I would have to do it all over again the following week. In addition, we had a few high rollers dive with us and many employees tried to schmooze their way into their pocketbooks, hoping that a little ass-kissing would bring a good tip. I would often be ignored or bumped out of the way by a certain DM in pursuit of his measly tips. Not cool, hoser! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favorite pics, and that´s Toby in the middle!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">The cool thing is that I did just under 50 dives during my time at Hamanasi, which would be incredibly expensive if I had paid for each of those dives. Don't get me wrong, I earned my keep, but I saved at least $4,000 on diving, which doesn't include equipment rental! Doing a DM and internship is a great way to get lots of experience in a short amount of time. I don´t think working in the dive industry is my life passion, but who knows, someday I may end up working on a live aboard dive boat in the middle of some lost ocean, butt kissing for my own measly tips! Many are jealous of those that work at resorts because they live in paradise. However, it's not as glorious as you'd think. It was very educational for me to see both sides of the coin. Yes, I was in paradise, and I enjoyed it as much as I could (thong tan and all). However, it wasn´t the ´watching the sunset from a hammock sipping on a piña colada´ experience that some may think. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Elvis</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toby and I</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">Amidst the mix of emotions, I'm glad I did my DM, for it was a great experience. I am now extremely comfortable in the water and I consider myself a very competent diver. I must put in an extremely good word for my two primary instructors: Elvis and Toby. No, they are not a Las Vegas show (although they sure could be); they are two very cool dudes that put a lot of time and effort into giving me the best training they could. Elvis is a chill Belizean with a unique sense of humor. He´s a big guy with a big heart, always willing to give advice and constructive criticism. Toby is a crazy Brit who has one of the most interesting life stories I have ever heard. Give him a few beer and you won´t believe the stories he tells. Sorry, I have been sworn to secrecy, you´ll have to ask him yourself. He is also an incredible diver with eons of experience and a great teacher to boot. These guys are the reason I feel I would make a good DM, if that's what I wanted to pursue. I have been given the tools to recognize problems from above and in the water before they happen, but that also something that comes with experience. My training was definitely a lot more work than I anticipated. I didn't realize how much responsibility is placed on a dive crew, but now I know. They each had plenty of stories, more than I expected anyway, of attempted suicide, attempted homicide, and clients simply dying under water (none were their fault, of course). The most interesting story Elvis told me was about a set of elderly twin sisters who were in their mid-70`s. He was leading another routine fun dive. At one point, they came around a rock outcropping the same time a nurse shark (one of the most harmless creatures in the ocean) suddenly appeared from the opposite direction. Both sisters freaked out and immediately died of heart attacks in the same moment! Seriously, what can you do in that situation? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A mystical forest awaits you beneath the surface...</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN">Kind of an awkward end to the story, eh? Well, that awkward feeling will soon go away if you check out my dive pics (sets #17 and 18 on the right side of the homepage) at: </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><u>www.flickr.com/photos/svaniman</u></span><br />
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Happy diving!Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-46537402471923727852011-06-02T15:37:00.000-07:002011-08-18T12:58:33.212-07:009) There and back again...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbvXCcRmlSSG2G-Ff1Oqn3TOVNuaVJDbWQ5RufNkkD4tkisI0cP6WTa4M8eo1ce7XZOt1RRfgheMuvfhNb2tDxhFUWi3cE56_OfMZNWBtjdgkPerpdJNwxdrbDck_dIbF_knUvDDlOoY/s1600/IMG_0312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbvXCcRmlSSG2G-Ff1Oqn3TOVNuaVJDbWQ5RufNkkD4tkisI0cP6WTa4M8eo1ce7XZOt1RRfgheMuvfhNb2tDxhFUWi3cE56_OfMZNWBtjdgkPerpdJNwxdrbDck_dIbF_knUvDDlOoY/s320/IMG_0312.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had nothing but good intentions to keep this blog updated as I traveled, but I have failed miserably. Considering that it is nearly the first of June, I am just under 4 months behind. So, you will now get the "Cliff's Notes" version of my adventures. Here is the first half of the past 4 months in a nutshell:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had the pleasure of exploring Belize for 2 weeks with my Mom. She was very sick of the cold and she missed her favorite son deerly, so she came to visit me on my journey for a bit. I picked her up at the airport in Belize Shitty. I apologize for the Freudian slip, but it's so true. Belize City is a nasty, dirty, ugly city with it's fair share of murders and robberies. You want to get out of there as soon as possible. We took the first water taxi out to Caye Caulker and stayed at a nice little place called Barefoot Beach. For some reason, everybody says that you have to go to Caye Caulker, but I was not impressed. There are so many better places to visit in Belize, I don't think it's worth your time. However, it was a good place to kick back for a few days and start our journey.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One thing I was lacking on this journey was a good camera. I admit that I am impressed with the photos my pocket camera took on the beach, but I wanted more. I had Mom bring me down the new Canon Powershot s95. This little guy is takes incredible pictures. Not only is it small and easy to travel with, but you can adjust all the manual settings (iso, aperture, shutter speed, exposure...), which is one of the reasons I got it. I was hoping I could teach myself a little photography in my spare time. I have learned heaps. I don't know if it's beginner's luck (I think it's more the camera), but I have taken some really cool pictures that I am excited to share. The problem is that I take so many more photos now, so I have spent more time sorting through them. But the results are worth it. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As soon as we got back from Caye Caulker, we headed back out to sea to Turneffe Flats. Turneffe Atoll is approximately an hour and a half boat ride from Belize City. It is primarily know for its world class fly fishing, too bad I didn't fish. My birthday present was a few days of diving while Mom snorkeled and explored the island. The main reason we came out was for me to dive the Blue Hole, but that didn't happen as the weather didn't cooperate with us. However, we still had a great time together and little did we know that I would later get the chance to dive the infamous Blue Hole.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We returned to the mainland and rented a car. This was a huge luxury, for it gave us so much freedom to go places I couldn't while traveling by bus. We spent a night in St. Ignacio and visited the the ruins of Xunantunich and El Pillar. Both were interesting, but the ruins in Guatemala are much better. If you are able I would highly recommend walking around the rounds of Chaa Creek as well as the Belizean Botanical Gardens, which are both on the same road, way back in the jungle. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We then headed south down the Hummingbird Highway towards Placencia. I personally didn't think too much of Placencia. The best thing about it is a small Gelato shop that makes the best ice cream in Belize (which doensn't say much because the Belizian ice cream is utterly terrible, but the Gelato really is quite nice). Placencia is overrun by retired Americans and Canadian, so I didn't get the 'foreign, tropical feel' from the place. However, we did stay in style at the Chabil Mar for 3 nights. My Mom brought down a suitcase full of vet supplies to donate to the animal shelter. In return, they put us up at this fancy places ($300+/night). Mom did have to pay $75 to bring that stuff through customs, but in the end, it was a nice deal. We soon got bored with Placencia and headed north to Hopkins for a night. Hopkins is not much more exciting, although there are few tourists there. Hopkins is a small Garafuni village that doesn't have much more than a few resorts on each end of town. Little did I know that I would be returning to Hopkins to do my DiveMaster training at Hamanasi Dive Resort. More on this later.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Owr two weeks together was drawing to a close as we headed back to Belize City. Just outside of the capital of Belmopan (by the way, this is the smallest country capital in the world and there is absolutely nothing to see there), we made a brief stop at the Belize Zoo. This zoo is nothing compared to the San Diego zoo, but it is actually quite nice. All the animals have been rescued and are not able to be released for whatever reason. It's worth a stop if you're passing by.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Those 2 weeks went by so quickly, but we had a great time together. It was very relaxing for her and it was a good experience for me to get a taste of Belize. Overall, Belize is not what I expected. It truly is a beautiful country with it's rich jungle and spectacular tropical beaches. However, it is in no way set up for budget travel. The bus system is mediocre and everything is expensive. Belize is a resort destination. If you want to enjoy Belize, especially for the first time, I would recommend booking a week or two at a resort. I can offer a few suggestions if you're interested. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After putting Mom on the plane back home, I went back to St. Ignacio to do the ATM cave expedition. The cave was not physically challenging, but the cultural/Mayan experience was incredible. You are basically walking thorough a museum exhibit. The artifacts should be placed in protective cases. Instead, you are only inches from stepping on skeletons and clay pots that are over 1,000 years old. The only 'barriers' present are a few pieces of plastic ribbon placed on the cave floor. It was a spendy expedition, yet culturally rich. I would put it on the 'must see in Belize' list. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I just couldn't get enough Guatemala, so I went back for more. I was not content with my level of Spanish, so did a one week refresher course at the Eco Escuela of San Andres. San Andres is a small pueblo on the north side of Lake Atitlan, on the opposite shore as Flores. It's a quite town with kind people. The few gringos there are usually taking Spanish classes or helping with NGO work. Fortunately, there was a really cool group of foreigners and we spent a lot of time hanging out together. When I think back, I have great memories of San Andres, not because of the place but because of the people. However, there is one special place I must mention. There is an old wooden dock on the lake at the edge of town. Almost every afternoon, I would escape the heat of the day by going for a swim. Not only is this lake beautiful, but it is one of the few lakes in Guatemala not polluted by garbage. And the sunsets from El Remate on the western shore were utterly spectacular. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was then time to explore some of the Mayan ruins of Peten. I based myself out of El Remate for a few days. The town itself is OK, but I later found out there are a number of nice little places to stay if you head west of town, on the northwest shore of the lake. Like I said, I can highly recommend the sunsets there. I have become quite the connoisseur of sunsets, and these were some of the better ones I've seen on this trip.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tikal. Yes, it is a bit touristy, but it is a must see. I know many people come great distances at great costs to see Tikal, and they have good reason. Tikal is epic. It is a very special place. I was fortunate becuase there was almost no one there, virtually no workers and few tour groups. I took the tour in Spanish. Not only was the group smaller, but there was a certain cultural richness to it. Tikal has many huge temples you can climb and get above the jungle canopy for great panoramas. However, the jewel of Tikal is the Grand Plaza and the Temple of the Jaguar. This is what you see on every travel brochure or poster, but it is different in person. The grandeur is mind blowing. I spent a long time just sitting there, trying to imagine what the place looked like at the height of its prosperity. It definitely left an impression on me. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After Tikal, I explored the ruins of Yaxha and Nakum. These are much less visited by tourists as they are off the beaten path, and therefore I knew I would like them. A guide is not necessary as both can be accessed by road (a 4X4 is necessary to get back to Nakum), but I didn't have a 4X4 and I thought that trekking through the jungle would be an interesting experience. These 2 cities are very different from each other even though they are fairly close together. Yaxha is a sprawling city with just a few large temples. Much of the site is unexcavated, but it has acquired quite a bit of funding since Survivor Guatemala was filmed there a few years back. The stairways leading up the temples were made with quality craftsmanship. Also, you see numerous workers sweeping the paths and raking the leaves throughout the ruins. Definitely unexpected. Yaxha also seems to have a lot more wildlife around than Tikal, howler monkeys can be heard all day long. The highlight of Yaxha is the main temple which has a spectacular view of the sunset. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Nakum is much different than most of the other Mayan cities. It was the city of nobles, so there is a number of plazas, temples, housing, ball courts, and even a temascal crammed into a relatively small area (since nobles don't like to walk very far). Not to mention that I had the place all to myself, not a single tourist around, and those are my favorite places. Much of Nakum is unexcavated as well, but the strucutures are so steep that they aren't covered in dirt, so you can still see great detail. I'll let the pictures do the talking on this one. Basically, Tikal is epic, Yaxha is well kept and has nice sunsets, but Nakum stands out as my favorite for some reason.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If that wasn't enough Mayan ruins, I went on a 5 day trek back into El Mirador. El Mirador is famous because it is the largest Mayan Temple in the world. It was a long, hot walk. We walked 4.5 hours the first day, 7 the second, spent a day at the site, then returned the way we came. All in all, we walked over 130 km, a few of us walked it in flip flops. This city is incomprehensibly huge, as is the main temple. There is a sign at the base of the temple, which you soon forget about because 15 minutes later you still haven't reached the peak of the great temple. From the top the view is incredible, I felt like I was standing on a mountain. I was unaware of this, but the site houses the biggest and best preserved mural carved into a huge rock face. It tells their of the creation story found in the Popol Vuh, the Mayan's holy book. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The adventure part of this trek was cool, but it's the people that made it such a great trip. There was a kind couple from Denmark, a fun brother and sister from Guatemala City, a chill British guy, a few Americans, and an amazing man from Argentina. I could say so many things about so many of these people, but Mr. Argentina really made an impression on me. When he was younger, he traveled throughout South and Central America for 9 year! 9 years! Oh, the stories he told! They were simply inspiring to me. He was a very wise man who I came to hold in high regard. He was kind of like the Pablo in my Nebaj trip. We would walk together and talk in Spanish because my Spanish was better than his English, which was great for me. We talked about almost everything: life, love, travels, mysteries, searching for lost treasures... He was the one that asked the questions in my last blog, "Are you searching or are you running away." He said a number of things that made an impression on me, here are just a few of them:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Try to see life through <u>their</u> eyes. When you go to a new place and meet the people, try to imagine life through their eyes rather than just looking in on them as a tourist.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Don't judge a place by the cost. For example, many people say Costa Rica is 'expensive'. Try to see the full picture: the people, the place, the experience as a whole. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Hold onto your family with all your strength, the will always be with you.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Most only have 2 or 3 people that are truly friends in their entire lifetime, friends that will do everything in their power to help you out in a time of need, no matter the circumstances.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-The bad and difficult times will pass.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Never make a rash decision, always take your time.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Don't talk about finances with other travelers.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-You can survive on bread, but bread with jelly is better.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-"Somos náufragos en un mundo nuevo." We are castaways/shipwrecked in a new world (his life's theme in reference to the life of a professional traveler). I, too, have adopted this philosophy.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-We are viajeros (travelers), not tourists. There is a huge difference between the two. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-"Chicas no se quedan, las ruinas se quedan." Basically, the ladies come and go, but the ruins will always be there.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-Argentines often pronounce their “j” sound like an “sh”. For example, he was talking about exploring the mountains in a “4 wheel drive sheep.” He would often say something like “I hope we see a shaguar!” The best though, was when I was away from the camp and someone asked about me, he said “He was probably attacked by a team of showers.” I think he meant to say jaguars, but everyone was rolling.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">He had a certain energy about him that was contageous to others. When we walked the streets of Flores, he would smile say "Buenas noches!" to almost everyone, even those that were trying to ignore him and look away. The funny thing is that over 90% would smile and greet him back. I tried it myself, being the introvert that I am, and I was pleasantly surprised to find out that it actually works! I'm amazed to observe how much people respond to the energy that you give them. That's a life lesson to hold onto. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was hard to part from such a cool dude, but we had to go our separate ways. The Mirador trek was an excellent final stamp on my Guatemala experience, it was time for me to head back to Belize. I was hoping to talk about Belize in this post, but that will have to wait until later as I must catch a plane very shortly. I am off to the Forbidden Island for the next month. Don´t exactly know what to expect, but I am excited. Wish me luck!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sorry I didn´t post pictures this time, I simply ran out of time. However, there are hundreds waiting for your viewing pleasure at </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif";"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.flickr.com%2Fphotos%2Fsvaniman%2F&h=90896" target="_blank"><span style="color: purple;">http://www.flickr.com/photos/s<wbr></wbr>vaniman/</span></a></span></span><span lang="EN"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Soy náufrago en un mundo nuevo...</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigyLy2tRV3CLt6Fh-_GtXpGUiMNc39aNt7fMSgjjlKm7Z1NzTQbvnWM4hRrgey1FduWLiiKGLw_edVBLqsRW5SY9Dfi53NOD4JyYaLcsBdefxUixX4BldFGQOCry165Av4I1QECE7Ig7Y/s1600/IMG_1042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigyLy2tRV3CLt6Fh-_GtXpGUiMNc39aNt7fMSgjjlKm7Z1NzTQbvnWM4hRrgey1FduWLiiKGLw_edVBLqsRW5SY9Dfi53NOD4JyYaLcsBdefxUixX4BldFGQOCry165Av4I1QECE7Ig7Y/s320/IMG_1042.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-77222323691251048152011-05-29T12:41:00.000-07:002011-05-29T12:41:29.819-07:008) Rio Dulce and Deep Thoughts.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXXkiaEFKClb_xLVz5-91SL5i8N7TLyPEr9ST4WwK4EmavjpmVX5i8MbVIy6CmgfFrddfzq6BxhJjP43DXV7V0N3eAUyUyUGGpgqrR7PdT5Mk6ZbC6ScdUS8ngxfPAoIZj0Uxgi-xOWRQ/s1600/CIMG8808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXXkiaEFKClb_xLVz5-91SL5i8N7TLyPEr9ST4WwK4EmavjpmVX5i8MbVIy6CmgfFrddfzq6BxhJjP43DXV7V0N3eAUyUyUGGpgqrR7PdT5Mk6ZbC6ScdUS8ngxfPAoIZj0Uxgi-xOWRQ/s320/CIMG8808.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After those wonderful two weeks on the Pacific coast of Guatemala, it was time for me to start making my way towards Belize. I had about a week to kill before meeting my Mom in Belize city. For some reason, I decided to head east through Rio Dulce. As a result, I didn't get to see and experience Semuc Champey. I have heard that Semuc Champey is one of the most beautiful places in Guatemala. In the middle of the jungle you find hundreds of waterfalls cascading into tranquil pools that have been created by beautiful limestone formations. All I can say is that the photos of Semuc are spectacular and that the reviews are great. No worries, though, I'll get there someday.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRWxJ-TCjtKKY6hUsS1i6MGC-YsAfrTyviYNt6l1jRRYb_sdUxPhIRRaj2sJC5Obu-ZaiKDBa55BuU6T6UJJ0gqTlB-N_a5ENOz1CBDwt-J3Mz88otB4RRgLxZu5oKP6dAd8aPwREgtEQ/s1600/CIMG8794.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRWxJ-TCjtKKY6hUsS1i6MGC-YsAfrTyviYNt6l1jRRYb_sdUxPhIRRaj2sJC5Obu-ZaiKDBa55BuU6T6UJJ0gqTlB-N_a5ENOz1CBDwt-J3Mz88otB4RRgLxZu5oKP6dAd8aPwREgtEQ/s320/CIMG8794.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Instead, I chose to have a rather mundane experience in a somewhat mediocre part of the country. It all began in Rio Dulce. As you might have guessed, Rio Dulce is a small town on the banks of a Rio that is quite Dulce. The banks of the river are lined with thousands of sailboats and yachts as this is one of the few sheltered areas along the Caribbean coast. Most sailors store their boats here from June through October during hurricane season. There is not much to the town of Rio Dulce, but there is a 'must do' about 30-45 minutes west of town called Finca Paraiso. After paying a small entrance fee and a short walk, you will find yourself standing in front of a huge hot springs water fall. I have been to the boiling river in Yellowstone National Park numerous times, but this is so much better. The waterfall is about 10 meters high, and almost just as wide. It has a small cave sauna beneath the falls that is popular amongst some, but I only found it to be humid and stuffy. This is a great place to relax. There are not too many places where you can sit in a river in the jungle and let the therapeutic hot water beat on your back and neck. The experience gets even better when it starts rains, such a cool sensation. I must have stayed in the water for 1.5 hours before my pruned skin told me it was time to get out. After a short walk back to main road, I simply caught the next minivan back into Rio Dulce. It makes for a very worthwhile half day trip.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUO3aW1aDjgdRtiBXUczQCZUmBMFEFCpJzRHAsJ9VLhBAk99K_Lqg9uHn8F9xSJWFgH6hlx0lgARYYHdZaH1vPJBoTnxJjsAFL6RQt5jHH8CHtXqwStHnlJZyeUz1Cd0GXIheo6TFHXIA/s1600/CIMG8827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUO3aW1aDjgdRtiBXUczQCZUmBMFEFCpJzRHAsJ9VLhBAk99K_Lqg9uHn8F9xSJWFgH6hlx0lgARYYHdZaH1vPJBoTnxJjsAFL6RQt5jHH8CHtXqwStHnlJZyeUz1Cd0GXIheo6TFHXIA/s320/CIMG8827.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I stayed in a backpackers hostel called Casa Perico. Not too much to note about the place except for a young lady I met there one evening. For some reason, she looked vaguely familiar, but I could not remember where I had seen her before. As we began to chat, I mentioned that I am from Montana she said that she had met a guy a month before from Montana. I soon realized that the guy of whom she spoke was none other than our very own Captain America. No stinking way, what a small world! I suddenly realized where I had seen her before: she was the Dutch gal that the Captain was so infatuated with the night Pablo and I ran into him in Antigua. She had very distinctive curly hair, I knew I had seen it somewhere before. I was in disbelief, I couldn't stop laughing. I told her my many stories and experiences with our friend and she told me hers. Turns out they went up to Earthlodge together. Eventually, she opened up a bit said that he tried to put the moves on her in the temascal, but she kindly declined. O, my dear superhero, when will you learn that the ladies are immune to your superhero powers? I got a kick out of that one, still makes me chuckle when I think about our encounter. Just when you think you've seen the last of someone, you bump into them or their legacy at the most unexpected time later down the road. I may have gotten a little too involved in my previous stories about our friend, Captain America, but I had fun writing them. Hope nobodies feelers were hurt, it was all in good fun.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQFhUt9JK_nHL7BiCnl4Kra3UFgLzHPshTThtmdewx9bea3f0boNE1TBf5H8pHWTJ2bXVi48TOZxzoh5QEgtPsdNGD3GCko-sG3_JAxyRAwLTbq3Uk7JHm47zC1L_-KjhkujDM-S0_ps/s1600/CIMG8826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQFhUt9JK_nHL7BiCnl4Kra3UFgLzHPshTThtmdewx9bea3f0boNE1TBf5H8pHWTJ2bXVi48TOZxzoh5QEgtPsdNGD3GCko-sG3_JAxyRAwLTbq3Uk7JHm47zC1L_-KjhkujDM-S0_ps/s200/CIMG8826.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoaFmlTHkq1NRdE-2yCsSBNH4Fy7EHQNkCjx0cH4VeF60h_cohMe175C7rE9GLaQTdGkHLbykRNl_7Bulj5NKhNiqSGDujT5D1-1tOIUieQPGXSBzzoF72Avygf8aC1l0c4AEmRTv5Sb4/s1600/CIMG8804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoaFmlTHkq1NRdE-2yCsSBNH4Fy7EHQNkCjx0cH4VeF60h_cohMe175C7rE9GLaQTdGkHLbykRNl_7Bulj5NKhNiqSGDujT5D1-1tOIUieQPGXSBzzoF72Avygf8aC1l0c4AEmRTv5Sb4/s200/CIMG8804.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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It was time to get on a boat. If you get a chance, I highly recommend taking the water taxi/shuttle to Livingston. It's a bit pricey and touristy, but it truly is a beautiful boat ride. It stops at various island preserves that are saturated with thousands of sea birds. Initially it sounds great, but when you get close you are overwhelmed by the ripe smell of fishy bird poop. There's so much guano that the leaves of the trees are white. Take some pictures, enjoy the ride, but plug your nose.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyehXrFLCK7es_t7OXMuB05hespLHo2W9KNarRAC2yA769oC9vsmohBu6e7VAlAzhACk55E9W9oQG0Lzy-P0uPJQ8r6t0B1IlhopNQ-5cQYHBIMhsiu17SB3GLiLiFm0kq6Mwr9FFMPI/s1600/CIMG8845.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyehXrFLCK7es_t7OXMuB05hespLHo2W9KNarRAC2yA769oC9vsmohBu6e7VAlAzhACk55E9W9oQG0Lzy-P0uPJQ8r6t0B1IlhopNQ-5cQYHBIMhsiu17SB3GLiLiFm0kq6Mwr9FFMPI/s320/CIMG8845.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Livingston...how do I describe Livingston? It is a mundane town with one of the ugliest and dirtiest beaches I've ever seen, but it was a good place to relax for a few days. I have been very few places that are so laid back. It is a mix of people of Mayan and Garafuni decent. The Garafuni are descendants are of African slaves, and they have some of the darkest skin I have ever seen. It's such a deep, rich shade of brown. And there hair is so course, so different than any other hair I've felt before. I am just fascinated when I close to them. Coming from the almost all white, conservative, and often closed-minded Montana, I am culturally lacking when it comes to being around people of certain color and ethnicity. I am perfectly comfortable around the Latinos, but for some reason I feel somewhat ignorant or foreign when I find myself amidst a group of black Garafuni. I am very open minded and try my best not to have any prejudices, but I'm still not completely comfortable sometimes. This discomfort is a good feeling, because I know I'm changing, I'm growing. The more people I get to know, the more I am realizing we are all the same inside. We are simply human. I have learned that much of the prejudice and ignorance heard growing up is a bunch of bullocks. Some people really need to get out more.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUu9llh0vtv2jzfHQeVhU7tckfAgql9jKO0CouB2fAJnmTbTTAMZ4MYGKmIC9c303DykOla174BbD54atbb5oojz8JCxPG7KIlpZuDXiZaCXge4h6U3Kkuh-6yZJS9jxPPB4McD5YBmyg/s1600/CIMG8829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUu9llh0vtv2jzfHQeVhU7tckfAgql9jKO0CouB2fAJnmTbTTAMZ4MYGKmIC9c303DykOla174BbD54atbb5oojz8JCxPG7KIlpZuDXiZaCXge4h6U3Kkuh-6yZJS9jxPPB4McD5YBmyg/s200/CIMG8829.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyUhilKbCiwOxqbieQ78NX0uTDBPg8Uugsg5JD7b_zLXiJ6_f6DoEl8M0-XhiMX4hehkKMMSePc9rSYVpjmORBOffE5Pl6oqQKecnXrqYubusoH74U29aTlDlZo_17U1j6gpM7BXfFzGk/s1600/CIMG8835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyUhilKbCiwOxqbieQ78NX0uTDBPg8Uugsg5JD7b_zLXiJ6_f6DoEl8M0-XhiMX4hehkKMMSePc9rSYVpjmORBOffE5Pl6oqQKecnXrqYubusoH74U29aTlDlZo_17U1j6gpM7BXfFzGk/s200/CIMG8835.JPG" width="200" /></a>After a long walk down an unremarkable beach covered in garbage and dead fish, you will find yourself at the Siete Altares (the seven alters). This is a miniature version of what I imagine Semuc Champey to look like. There are seven waterfalls that cascade over limestone formations, that is, in the wet season. Of course, I was there in the dry season. No rain = no waterfall. However, there is one waterfall one can hurl themselves off and land in the deep waters below. Quite refreshing on a hot day, yes.<br />
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One thing that really stood out to me in Livingston was the poor condition of the dogs. For some reason, I didn't take many photos of the animals, but I'm sure I will have many more opportunities to come. Guatemala, as well as the rest of Central America, has a very different view of dogs and cats than the Western world. Most dogs here are skinny, hungry, homeless, sad-looking creatures that roam the streets scavenging for anything that resembles food. The few cats that aren't killed by dogs appear to be in a similar condition. Some people claim a dog as their own by feeding it scraps on a somewhat regular basis, but for the most part each is left to fend for itself. Most dogs live in fear of humans as they often have sticks and rocks thrown at them. They are basically wild animals, left to battle for survival. If they survive the contagious diseases, parasitic overloads (every dog is loaded with fleas and ticks and worms), dog fights, car accidents, and occasional poisonings, they still have to find enough food to survive every day. They have so many cards stacked against them, I would be surprised if the life expectancy is over 6 years.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuscqgU3Kh-nU1mPwfg_EGzNqFwVjNC4fXeNR8mwNMTeSb8mawzDINSycBTQWBvF3PSkNWIYR7qVJiKp5s4zoMZXhWG6k9SIrR9fAdJu7WRL5EF5pxcC50P48s9Wdg_-csmLOq7r9v-d0/s1600/IMG_0819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuscqgU3Kh-nU1mPwfg_EGzNqFwVjNC4fXeNR8mwNMTeSb8mawzDINSycBTQWBvF3PSkNWIYR7qVJiKp5s4zoMZXhWG6k9SIrR9fAdJu7WRL5EF5pxcC50P48s9Wdg_-csmLOq7r9v-d0/s320/IMG_0819.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This guy could barely walk because of the <br />
huge tumor at the base of his tail. Very sad.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Livingston made the rest of the dogs in Guatemala look happy, healthy, and well kept. Almost every pup and many adults there were covered in mange. Many were emaciated and didn't even look like dogs. Numerous dogs were hopping along on three legs. I saw one in particular that had two limbs so badly mangled she could hardly walk. Not only was I uncomfortable watching her walk, but I just couldn't even understand the biomechanics of how she moved. It was the saddest thing I have seen on this trip so far.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWX5KNE6jEAURBrALl4KMr1X6PamFKio9Pwjznq45mGcL2xWtZEeH5zG4rbUOVI5uA1BC7mdQBsvwkdF4654Lt_1k3_9GSv8d1Uk5FW149R2MJ5LQpkgruaYZalY-gfrf3XOK0aUVcTBw/s1600/IMG_1959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWX5KNE6jEAURBrALl4KMr1X6PamFKio9Pwjznq45mGcL2xWtZEeH5zG4rbUOVI5uA1BC7mdQBsvwkdF4654Lt_1k3_9GSv8d1Uk5FW149R2MJ5LQpkgruaYZalY-gfrf3XOK0aUVcTBw/s320/IMG_1959.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Coming from a Western mindset, and especially being so involved with animals, it is hard not to have compassion. I have often thought, "What can I do? How can I help? I need to DO something. I, of all people, should do something!" Yet, on the other hand, I have had to turn a blind eye from many sick and suffering animals. There are many factors and circumstances that have made it not possible for me to help. There is quite a melting pot of paradoxical emotions flowing through me. I want to help these animals. I would love to provide a better quality of life somehow. However, this is the way of life here, this is how things have been done for so long. Can I even make a difference? Should I even care? Heck, I was talking with a Canadian who has been living in a small town in northern Guatemala. When I mentioned some of these thoughts to him, he said something that took me off guard: "Why bother? They're not even animals. Just leave them be. No one else cares, why should you?"<br />
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I am searching for many things on this journey, and one of them is my calling in life. I know this may not come to me, but it just might hit me square across the head one day. Am I meant to start a non-profit whose mission is to help the animals of Central and/or South America? Maybe, maybe not. Where do I even begin? One of the most difficult things is changing the mindset of the people. I could bring 1,000 vets and twice as many vet techs down to spay and neuter the dogs of Central America, but without changing the mindset of the people, it would all be for nothing. If the people don't take any responsibility, within a year or two the stray animal population would be right back where it was before. There are numerous international spay and neuter projects that spay 100's of animals in a week, but in the long run it is questionable if they even make a difference. If you ask them, they will indefinitely say they are doing good because they have that warm, fuzzy feeling inside. Trust me, I have been there, I understand. But I am a bit sceptical right now. It's like going to an African village to help plant a crop or give them farm animals for food. It helps in the short term, but if you don't teach the people how to farm or take care of the livestock, you've done nothing for them in the long run.<br />
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I don't know, these have been tough questions and I have spent much time chewing over them. There is no question that there is a niche for my training down here, but is it the right niche for me? I'm not going to lose any sleep over this because I know the right thing will happen when it's meant to happen. I have heard the sayings: "It will happen if it's meant to be" or "If it's meant to be, it will happen." Both statements have the exact same wording, but, for some reason, they both say something slightly different to me. Reagardless, they are part of a philosophy I have begun to cling to during my travels. This state of mind has brought me peace in so many situations, from finding a snack or catching a bus to something as significant as finding a long term travel partner or answering on of my deep life questions. On the surface, it may seem a bit fatalistic, but it really has brought me peace countless times. I don't want to impose that one <i><b>needs</b></i> to think like this, but it sure makes life much easier on the road. Right now I'm on a walkabout. I'm traveling, experiencing, observing, thinking, questioning, conversing, learning, discovering, enjoying...I'm changing. So much is unknown to me, but I know it will fall into place in due time. No worries.<br />
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On a similar note, I have learned that each one of us is on a journey of life. It doesn't matter who you are, where you are, what situation you are in, whether you are travelling or not, we all have our own path to walk. Even if you are working a steady job and you have a family to take care of, you are living your own adventure. This did not become clear to me until I recently, for I could not see the forest through the trees when I was living the daily grind of a stressful life. But now that I have had a chance to breathe a bit, and I understand that we must make our own life decisions, we must choose what path we will walk. I know there are so many circumstances outside of our control, but what will you do with the choices set before you?<br />
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One night, I was sitting around a picnic table in the middle of an ancient Mayan city, far from any present day civilization. I was surrounded by a group of travelers from all ends of the earth, each face was lit by candle light on this calm, starry night. One wise traveler, whom I respect and admire, would ask a question and each of us would take turns answering. He had many thought provoking questions, but the most profound was this: "Every traveler is either searching for something or running away from something. Which are you?" This question really hit home to me, it rang with so much truth. I thought about it for a moment, but there is no question that I am searching. For what? I am not quite sure, but my heart tells me I will know if/when I find it. Maybe I won't find it. Maybe I'll look back on this journey one day and realize that I was actually living the answer. I don't know, but I'm at peace with it right now. How about you? Are you searching? What are you searching for? What are you doing to find that which you seek?... Or are you running away from something? What are you running away from? Why are you running away?... Only you have the answer, or maybe you don't, but I suspect each of us fits into one of these categories. Once you figure out the answers to that question, the bigger question in my mind is where do you go from there? What do you do with that knowledge? Must you do anything at all? Can you do anything? How does it change you? How does it affect your decision making in the future? How does it shape who you are? How does it guide you in your journey? Where do you go from here?<br />
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Such difficult questions, such profound thoughts, such exciting stuff! This soul searching is not easy, but when all is said and done, I hope and pray it creates a better person. Enjoy your journey!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQv661UrcaliAmKjyYMEIKDhxAcTWHj-z0VP345i5NoZmzguvfTMWJrhyslyufFo93ziCRYARqEvHYM9VnCehfWo8rEgsf_ay77rewo4x6X2zWfFrsfcqLNe8tIip9EgxipgtTgUkT2U/s1600/IMG_0818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQv661UrcaliAmKjyYMEIKDhxAcTWHj-z0VP345i5NoZmzguvfTMWJrhyslyufFo93ziCRYARqEvHYM9VnCehfWo8rEgsf_ay77rewo4x6X2zWfFrsfcqLNe8tIip9EgxipgtTgUkT2U/s320/IMG_0818.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-15095036075259857892011-05-15T11:33:00.000-07:002011-05-15T21:46:36.871-07:007) Southern Beaches<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRR8GgpO3VZww8QDkpekmg9JAU-8dHIkkuIYN1qkuQMIHD8ChZTz4o9SJkHybzdr3dSv1kdg37hdj2YxkGGXh_Ne1bO2nt9dOhg8tdtWM8Q96PLcv_keeD5cvwx31okqGFJTBMvOF6KY4/s1600/CIMG8776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRR8GgpO3VZww8QDkpekmg9JAU-8dHIkkuIYN1qkuQMIHD8ChZTz4o9SJkHybzdr3dSv1kdg37hdj2YxkGGXh_Ne1bO2nt9dOhg8tdtWM8Q96PLcv_keeD5cvwx31okqGFJTBMvOF6KY4/s400/CIMG8776.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Imagine this:</b> </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Om-MAMKlYf0ts_gucBqYpFVsFVFV0zcdU5kfjT7Qt19-r765teVf5HUqec1iSVsAGpLS5w2HwXaf1cLdNX9dxDzFmhQ-WIlxeQv82OgrnGmYX4SKUUDItg0r4y-vtmP3NjshuS9WbCk/s1600/CIMG2739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Om-MAMKlYf0ts_gucBqYpFVsFVFV0zcdU5kfjT7Qt19-r765teVf5HUqec1iSVsAGpLS5w2HwXaf1cLdNX9dxDzFmhQ-WIlxeQv82OgrnGmYX4SKUUDItg0r4y-vtmP3NjshuS9WbCk/s320/CIMG2739.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Something wakes you from a deep, peaceful sleep, but all you can hear is the sound of waves crashing into the beach just meters away. You sit up and look out the mosquito netting of your open air tent to see millions of stars shining bright in a cloudless sky. The leaves of the palm trees dance in the gentle sea breeze by the light of the full moon. You watch each wave crash into the shore. You can't take your eyes off the breakers, they are mesmerizing. You don't know why but you find a peace, a comfort, a contentment with the crashing of the ocean waves. Each wave resonates deep within your heart and soul. Words cannot describe it, but the sensation is palpable. The thought of laying back down and going back to sleep crosses your mind, but then you realize that dawn is just about to break. The sky is beginning to lighten ever so slightly in the east as the sun is preparing to make its entrance. There is no way you can go back to sleep, the thought of watching the sunrise has perked your mind like strong cup of coffee. After crawling out of the tent, you take a deep breath of crisp ocean air. You smile, you can't help but smile, because you truly are happy in this moment. After taking it all in: the waves, the stars, the moon, the warm breeze, the black sands, you begin to walk barefoot down the beach towards the sunrise. You can't remember the last time you felt the sensation of warm sand between your toes, it feels so good. Rumor has it that the black sand beaches of southern Guatemala are ugly and not worth the effort to visit. These rumors must be true because you are all alone in this special place, there is no one else in sight. As the sun prepares to appear over the surf, the sky changes color from deep blue to burnt orange to bright yellow, and every shade in between. The rich colors are reflected in the white foam lapping at the beach. If that wasn't enough, a sliver of light appears on the horizon. Then right before your eyes it transforms into a perfect sphere of deep, flaming red. It hurts your eyes, yet you just can't look away. Words cannot capture the moment. You feel a peace deep within, you can't remember that last time you felt like this. Come to think of it, you can't recall if you've ever truly felt this way before. You close your eyes, hoping to burn this visual symphony into you memory forever. Although there is no one else in sight, you know you're not alone because you feel the arms of your Creator wrapped around you in a strong embrace and you hear His voice whisper , "This for you, I knew you would love it. I am here with you. I love you." Yeah, life is good.<br />
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This was my life for two weeks on the southern beaches of Guatemala.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq-8zChSo9E_6oRy8jU45qqg7mvI6Oqy_VjTrpMCZTT7_VaLKTa8Ced88uh15e9_UbZeCMhBFcj5j_lfBG6U7QTjFXpq6EQZR8DjUc_AC7V039PokGOfUv3wbpQGpUqRmRPX7xIvj_Hso/s1600/CIMG2722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq-8zChSo9E_6oRy8jU45qqg7mvI6Oqy_VjTrpMCZTT7_VaLKTa8Ced88uh15e9_UbZeCMhBFcj5j_lfBG6U7QTjFXpq6EQZR8DjUc_AC7V039PokGOfUv3wbpQGpUqRmRPX7xIvj_Hso/s400/CIMG2722.JPG" width="400" /></a>I met one of the gals from my Nebaj trip during my time in Antigua. She said that she and a friend were headed down to Sipacate to hang out on the beach for a few days and asked me if I'd like to join. I'm always up for an adventure, especially if it involves hanging out on a beach. With that, we loaded the car rolled out of town. We stayed with at a small surfer hangout just west of Sipacate called the Salty Beaver Beach Lodge (yes, the owner, is very aware of the double meaning). Peter is a cool Canadian who is giving life in Guatemala a go. He bought the small piece of beach front property a few years ago and has been slowly developing the place. So far he has a large concrete patio and well equipped kitchen, both shaded by a thatched roof. He also has a beautiful swimming pool just meters from the beach. This is by far the nicest pool for miles, it even has the beaver logo tiled into the floor. I must say that he has the most comfortable hammocks I have ever been in! I have become quite the hammock snob, and Peter has the creme de la creme, no question. It really is a great little place. Check it out on Facebook.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_HWY66Nx5t6c7Y2lGPzIqQUhokslTmf7EoWksL3OYtPEVAUdIEc_p64h3B_ZFuOVKD2C24hyphenhyphenZxHVktY5CFVJoNLFs9oZIHeFc5j9qwR4SKNH0EDddO28Q1AKRcJaofW-gBHyIOttNHco/s1600/CIMG2641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_HWY66Nx5t6c7Y2lGPzIqQUhokslTmf7EoWksL3OYtPEVAUdIEc_p64h3B_ZFuOVKD2C24hyphenhyphenZxHVktY5CFVJoNLFs9oZIHeFc5j9qwR4SKNH0EDddO28Q1AKRcJaofW-gBHyIOttNHco/s320/CIMG2641.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The place was lacking was accommodation, but Peter was in the process of building a few private rooms with a dormitory upstairs. The concrete shell was there, but there were no walls. He mentioned that he was eager to get the building framed and finished so he could have a place for people to stay. I told him I would be happy to help, in return he was willing to feed me and let me use his tent too. Sounded like a good deal to me. So, I spent my mornings framing and putting up siding, then relaxing in a hammock through the heat of the afternoon. Everything was going smoothly until the 3rd or 4th day. Peter had climbed up a very sketchy ladder to frame in a wall. He got a little off balance and the ladder collapsed on him. Luckily, the hammer missed my head by just inches and I was unscathed. Peter, however, was not so fortunate. He yelled in pain as he hit the ground, legs tangled in the ladder. He held his ankle in agony, there was no question he was in extreme pain. After a brief examination, I wrapped the ankle, then iced and elevated it. I knew this was more than just a sprain and I highly recommended going to the hospital, but he wanted to see how he felt in the morning. By late afternoon, he was in so much pain we had to put him on Codeine. (By the way, you can buy almost any drug, minus most anesthetics, over the counter in Guatemala. Any antibiotic you want, no prescription needed. Pain pills? You tell them you are really hurting they will give you Morphine. I even bought Diazepam (Valium), both pills and injectable liquid, all I had to do was ask. I'm surprised drug abuse is not more prevalent here.) Even with Codeine, Peter could not sleep through the night, so the next morning a friend brought him back to Antigua. Turns out he fractured his Calcaneous (heel bone) and they had to put a pin in and cast the ankle. This was not good timing: he finally had someone to help frame and this happened. Guess that's life. Anyway, he told me I could stay as long as I liked and eat anything in the fridge as long as I kept working on the construction project. Again, that sounded like a good deal to me, so I hung out all by myself at the Beav for another 3 or 4 days. I did my fare share of physical labor, but there's no question that I enjoyed many hours in the hammock.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8aM7_diOwqpgKj0tC7Maaezi4yedoeiHNjs9Ot62HfuzTue-0gdVeXn9BB1wgJf0UDTnny30gqnn2WLUXc5u_840iy5X_VobfMu5nVMOg8YlXV6Qx0eCWzVc-9I70R6nESfWn4kO19Wc/s1600/CIMG2651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8aM7_diOwqpgKj0tC7Maaezi4yedoeiHNjs9Ot62HfuzTue-0gdVeXn9BB1wgJf0UDTnny30gqnn2WLUXc5u_840iy5X_VobfMu5nVMOg8YlXV6Qx0eCWzVc-9I70R6nESfWn4kO19Wc/s320/CIMG2651.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from my favorite hammock.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDqrtm0RozxdOmo8aoadfR7Ma68UFL8Gy0gjWZwd8uhzNDI8d1_vo9Da74oSi4bxPzighwpk7_IgtG4CFb9pyeFY6Z4ti3XS48CyYwr_SwTHGpWO2FKX7LYl9wXqg7Xr2xoel3YY5oyZA/s1600/CIMG2698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDqrtm0RozxdOmo8aoadfR7Ma68UFL8Gy0gjWZwd8uhzNDI8d1_vo9Da74oSi4bxPzighwpk7_IgtG4CFb9pyeFY6Z4ti3XS48CyYwr_SwTHGpWO2FKX7LYl9wXqg7Xr2xoel3YY5oyZA/s320/CIMG2698.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite hammock (thus far) in the whole world! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>The afternoons were too hot, but the mornings and evenings were just perfect. As the day would start winding down and the sun hung low in the sky, I would find a comfy spot on the beach or in one of my favorite hammocks to enjoy the sunset. Another great thing about the beach here is that the sun both rises and sets over the Pacific Ocean. So, if the sunrise wasn't magical enough, chances are that the sunset would be just as spectacular. I watched a number of spectacular sunsets on the beach, but there is still something special, something magical about the rising of the sun, watching the earth come to life after a night of rest. I was able to get some great photos with my little compact camera. I am amazed at how the colors turned out, imagine how great the photos would have been with an SLR! This is definitely my favorite set of photos yet, so check them out on Flickr if you've got a moment.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqeIzrS9JOxbcNGVPGWbbu0PbJrEySDcqRLIhhjIhingkH6x9Wu6JhezgoKTAx0hrnAcQx6d1ebeReYk9IT1ELH966YYl2KwXTApNVBrPqoeVaurrbegLheXcUbgCOVkZYCzKBf2XWGmo/s1600/CIMG2668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqeIzrS9JOxbcNGVPGWbbu0PbJrEySDcqRLIhhjIhingkH6x9Wu6JhezgoKTAx0hrnAcQx6d1ebeReYk9IT1ELH966YYl2KwXTApNVBrPqoeVaurrbegLheXcUbgCOVkZYCzKBf2XWGmo/s200/CIMG2668.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>As my time at the Salty Beaver was drawing to a close, the food supply was diminishing. Knowing that Peter wouldn't return for a while, I decided to move on. After a 15 minutes in a Tuk Tuk, a water taxi ride through the lush mangroves, and another 15 minutes on foot, I found myself at the Paredon Surf House. www.paredonsurf.com Paredon is a tiny village at the end of a very long dirt road. There is not much around except this cool surf camp. It is a nice, comfortable, relaxed place run by a few cool Swiss guys. I had met them earlier in the week when we ventured over to rent surf boards. Word got out that I am a veterinarian and their ears perked up. They had a number of dogs and cats that needed neutering, I said I could 'fix' that problem. Another 'exchange of services' was about to be made.<br />
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The facilities at the surf house are simple yet satisfying. It is a very comfortable and communal living situation with relaxed, friendly folks. They have 2 thatched bungalows over looking the ocean, but they were too warm for me. I chose to stay in the dormitory above the main building, one of the neatest dormitories I've ever seen. There are about 10 beds in a huge space below a massive, vaulted palapa roof, each with its own mosquito net. A marvelous sea breeze would blow through, keepin me cool at night. The food is great, the people are very kind, the beach is wonderful, and the surfing is good.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGk09_jKVjnxL4AK9O0PZl90gJYCtrNW6W-dCc8z8r4faSAJ99OSeq5Q9IjQTD2CqP17FQdjEonCMX4p8grnshXx_1L3a4iVl8MwHzzN_9oM4d9m9UcMlWII24S8zndkJKu-am_gJ2rU/s1600/CIMG2762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGk09_jKVjnxL4AK9O0PZl90gJYCtrNW6W-dCc8z8r4faSAJ99OSeq5Q9IjQTD2CqP17FQdjEonCMX4p8grnshXx_1L3a4iVl8MwHzzN_9oM4d9m9UcMlWII24S8zndkJKu-am_gJ2rU/s200/CIMG2762.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
I have never, I mean NEVER, been a morning person. If you doubt this, ask my parents about the frustrations they went through trying to wake me up for school all through grades K-12. Crawling out of bed didn't get any easier for me in college, vet school, or even after I got a real job. But something magical happened on the southern beaches, my circadian rhythms changed. I would wake up on my own every morning between 5:30am and 5:45am, just before the sunrise. I was fully awake and ready for the day, a feeling I had rarely felt before. It was as if I was as if I was meant to enjoy the sunrise each morning. This is just one of the reasons I fell in love with the Pacific coast, there is no question I will return one day.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUieitQnnjp4Hei1mfvHqkDuMHjvmIkHl6zmxLu3dadiC6LhBca4RAFpSEEBVvfUVeP59WTVX0TL6wdIsGSn649-tfJ9scGAl2qV9CClxpJwkWh4g55cF733b7qfJv1XERr89YwKm-86Y/s1600/CIMG2830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUieitQnnjp4Hei1mfvHqkDuMHjvmIkHl6zmxLu3dadiC6LhBca4RAFpSEEBVvfUVeP59WTVX0TL6wdIsGSn649-tfJ9scGAl2qV9CClxpJwkWh4g55cF733b7qfJv1XERr89YwKm-86Y/s320/CIMG2830.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I spent quite a bit of time in the water. The waves were a bit large for my comfort, so I spent the first day swimming, getting comfortable with being smashed around. It's amazing how much power a 5-6 foot wave has, especially when it hits you off guard. What's even more amazing is how calm the sea is just beneath even the biggest of waves. I quickly learned to dive below the curl rather than trying to fight through it. I then spent many frustrating days trying to stand up on that darn surf board. I don't know why it was so hard for me to get the hang of it, but I just couldn't get up after catching a wave. I was fine once I was standing, it's not much different than snowboarding, but the standing up part kicked by butt. I was very jealous of the folks who were up and riding after just 2 hours in the ocean. Guess I'm not going to be a professional surfer, but it sure is a lot of fun.<br />
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Once I was settled in (meaning a few days of surfing and quality hammock time), it was time to refresh my surgical skills. Although I bought needles, scalpels, gauze, antibiotics, etc. at the farmacia, I was lacking anesthetic as well as surgical instruments. In addition to pharmacies, there are shops all over Guatemala called 'agroveterinarias'. These shops are like our granges or feed stores. However, like the pharmacies, they carry a number of pharmaceuticals only available by perscription in the States. Each agrovet is run by someone who claims to be a veterinarian. I have talked with a number of these 'vets', and every single one has very limited knowledge of anything veterinary or medicine related. The sad thing is their fees are less than a properly trained vet, so they often get called out first to a sick animal. As you can imagine, they usually don't help the situation or they make it even worse. I feel for the poor animals. At one point I met a horse breeder who had a stallion with an abscess on his jaw. Not only was he told to treat with the wrong antibiotic, but he was also given the dosage for a medium sized dog. Come on people, at least read the box and get the dosing right.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome to my operating room.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Anyway, we went drove into San Pedro in search of a vet. Luckily, we found a real-live-certified vet. After a great conversation in Spanish, we convinced him to come out to the surf camp and let me use his anesthetic and tools. When we were rounding up everything needed for the surgeries, he had a heck of a time finding his one bottle of Ketamine. He said it had been a while since he'd spayed or neutered a dog as he blew the dust off the bottle, so this would be a good refresher for him. I thought, "This is going to be an adventure," and it was a good one.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgugmtnj5Mi9IvmOCl2UnZQaZ3hu6ZQfa__G-uDCcBiWmxJUh1YnKDAYpCPeTml5xzQnglv0zINngjvRF96UHhyphenhyphenx3RV5I7bbUsMo4eTs8LnCBB79cvIfJg5dN6GjJpgGO0cx3NrJxVAtxQ/s1600/P1220364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgugmtnj5Mi9IvmOCl2UnZQaZ3hu6ZQfa__G-uDCcBiWmxJUh1YnKDAYpCPeTml5xzQnglv0zINngjvRF96UHhyphenhyphenx3RV5I7bbUsMo4eTs8LnCBB79cvIfJg5dN6GjJpgGO0cx3NrJxVAtxQ/s320/P1220364.jpg" width="177" /></a><br />
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As you can imagine, even the formally trained vets (and anyone else in the medical profession) do not receive the quality of education that we get in the Western world. Not only that, they have a very different way of doing things. I have done vet work in Honduras and Costa Rica, so I understand that things are done differently down here, there is not much that surprises me anymore. For example, in many places they use zip ties to ligate the pedicles and uterus during a dog spay. It's quick, practical, and they don't cause infection problems, so why not? It's a great idea, but would never fly back in the States. However, the vet said he only gives a partial dose of anesthetic because it's more economical and he likes the way they wake up quicker. I hate to see animals in pain, especially if I am the one inflicting the pain. Plus, it's hard to operate when the patient is moving around. So I made him give the full dose of anesthetic. The cats, on the other hand, were overdosed and didn't wake up for at least 5 of 6 hours post op, just a wee bit of inconsistency my dear vet friend.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibO-tQEPusteQupFJ3LHHo4K7G2mM6oUFgNWgOdeUMjz_Mx82_uu6E0bEXY9yHBqdNhenNY_d2_KkxlQD31jva_IjbMcm6kIyF684qLKRXfhTBJYnmwmUZzUmDGjtTB73UIPXxQvEEcls/s1600/P1220372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibO-tQEPusteQupFJ3LHHo4K7G2mM6oUFgNWgOdeUMjz_Mx82_uu6E0bEXY9yHBqdNhenNY_d2_KkxlQD31jva_IjbMcm6kIyF684qLKRXfhTBJYnmwmUZzUmDGjtTB73UIPXxQvEEcls/s320/P1220372.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Yes, I do it for the children."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It's not everyday (or ever) that the locals get to witness surgery, so a small crowd had gathered to watch the festivities, many of which were children. I always like to have a little fun when I get an opportunity such as this, so here's a little trick I learned from a vet in Costa Rica. After making the incision and externalizing the first testicle, it must be separated from the tissue connecting it to the scrotum. At this point, I pretend like it takes all my strength and effort to pull on the testicle. At the very moment the connective tissue releases, I let out a scream as I rip the testicle away from the body. You should see the look on their faces! It's the same beautiful reaction every time: the children scream and a look of horror crosses the face of each onlooker. After a tense moment I look up, laugh, and tell them all this it was just a joke. Eventually, they find the humor in it too and they see that the second testicle comes out much easier than the first. This always adds a certain richness to the educational experience. Yes, I do it for the children.<br />
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The vet especially got a kick out of my little stunt. He was taken back initially, but soon had a grin from ear to ear. I figured I could teach him a few things with my surgical training, but in fact, he taught me some great tricks for third world conditions. Of course, sterility was minimal (no surgical drapes and I didn't even use gloves), the suture was old, operating on a dining room table, etc. What surprised me the most was that he used tampons to soak up the blood at the incision site. Minus the lack of sterility, it is an excellent idea, since that's what they were made to do. Why hasn't anyone else thought of that? I cannot say that I will carry a box of tampons with me wherever I go (explain that one to the boys at customs), but I will definitely use them in my future surgical endeavors.<br />
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In exchange for my testicle rippin' abilities, they let me stay at the surf camp and use their surf boards whenever I wanted at no charge for the week. I was able to observe my patients in the days that followed. Everyone healed well, even the bloody gloveless spay. I did have to pay for my food, but it was a sweet deal. An afternoon of surgery for a week of fun in the sun, sign me up! This was the first time I actually enjoyed the perks of my profession while travelling, and it will not be the last, for I am discovering a nice little niche for my veterinary services overseas. Many more stories to come...<br />
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The Salty Beaver Beach Lodge and the Paredon Surf House are great places, I would highly recommend both to anyone heading down to the southern beaches of Guatemala. Whether you need a hard core week of surfing or just to kick back and relax in a hammock, you will find it on here. If you do go, please say hello for me. <br />
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</div>In summary, these two weeks were a very special time for me. I cannot describe how beautiful and peaceful this experience was, it really did strike a cord deep within me. Even though I had spent a few months back home in Montana before leaving for Guatemala, this was the first time I was able to truly relax and clear my mind since my resignation in August. I literally felt the stresses of the past few years of life lift from my shoulders. It was a time for me to decompress and find that small voice of peace inside that is muffled, even suffocated by the busyness of life.This was that beach experience I had been dreaming about for so long, I was living my dream.<br />
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</div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-91390752674543855532011-05-15T09:23:00.000-07:002011-05-15T09:23:37.548-07:006) Antigua <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5AbtVAT-XDnJbU-n8ETwyivA0TaOQJtrNY4IVw7TGTGS3d9QguleCGgza8ufamzLt_HfClxia1UtBINncfOPvddijueT9wiIPV0S-_fFV4m9azyXSFU3j47S4vIR1NHEOv4fPPV3lRY/s1600/IMG_0392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5AbtVAT-XDnJbU-n8ETwyivA0TaOQJtrNY4IVw7TGTGS3d9QguleCGgza8ufamzLt_HfClxia1UtBINncfOPvddijueT9wiIPV0S-_fFV4m9azyXSFU3j47S4vIR1NHEOv4fPPV3lRY/s400/IMG_0392.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
One thing I liked most about Xela during those first weeks of class was the lack of tourists, the few that were there were fellow Spanish students. Actually, I was one of few foreigners that stayed in town for the Chirstmas holiday (which, by the way, didn't feel anything like Christmas: cold and cloudy yet somewhat culturally rich yet lonely yet the sweetest fireworks I've ever experienced in my life yet I am in Guatemala and I miss my family yet is it really Christmas?). However, after I returned from my walk in Nebaj (that actually rhymes since Nebaj is pronounced 'Nebok'. Ha, 'a walk in Nebaj', a bit of Spanglish poetry for ya), an uncomfortably large number of gringos suddenly appeared in Xela, more than ever before. A feeling deep within told me it was time to leave and begin my travels through Guatemala. Antigua was my first stop. Those of you who have been to Antigua know that it is probably the most touristy city in Guatemala. One friend even commented that it was irrational for me to flee tourists by heading to Antigua. Regardless, I left Xela and I liked Antigua, so there.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqq0CmzDafba4AjOpawQqPDCGfUVEnfJn_PuzVhvuLt_aIQ4FYgeMZHLNOWoYf31qJJ96jgr7jTwocOXgtgumh0daDHBei4kPD16XbkSkRKphzELRegtEgPCEyQWM0xxpRMhK8X5-1hP8/s1600/CIMG2626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqq0CmzDafba4AjOpawQqPDCGfUVEnfJn_PuzVhvuLt_aIQ4FYgeMZHLNOWoYf31qJJ96jgr7jTwocOXgtgumh0daDHBei4kPD16XbkSkRKphzELRegtEgPCEyQWM0xxpRMhK8X5-1hP8/s320/CIMG2626.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Antigua is a beautiful, old city nestled between a few spectacular volcanoes. It a city rich in diversity: a mix of wealthy Guatemalans, tourists from every country, Mayan influence, and the local Guatemalans (who just seem to blended in). The many cobblestone streets create a nostalgic feel, yet they are hard to walk on and extremely rough in any vehicle. The streets are lined by colorful, interconnected, and aesthetically pleasing (for lack of better words) concrete buildings which are home to hotels, hostels, houses, art galleries, souvenir shops, and a variety of great restaurants. I had the best Arabic food I've ever tasted in all my years of Arabic food consumption, who'da thunk? I also discovered a little placed called Cafe de Miel where they make some mighty tasty crepes. You should stop by and give 'em a try. I also highly recommend grabbing a drink at Cafe No Se. A very unique, but pleasant place to chill with an adult beverage in hand (please, only have 1 or 2 of said beverages, 3 at the most, for I shall not be responsible for encouraging excessive adult beverage consumption).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGXRBLmIFrhVvlHadp0xgA-KVNPRS3LfnumEaKwUDXquvQX0ykSnCO2U3oih6jighRvhJZtbZwugFQyFWrJWUP4Bk6-89i8UC_HjGSJUmFqZmqaZ6wFoFLEfRQlPgwKy0zyzVZjx90VSQ/s1600/CIMG2582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGXRBLmIFrhVvlHadp0xgA-KVNPRS3LfnumEaKwUDXquvQX0ykSnCO2U3oih6jighRvhJZtbZwugFQyFWrJWUP4Bk6-89i8UC_HjGSJUmFqZmqaZ6wFoFLEfRQlPgwKy0zyzVZjx90VSQ/s320/CIMG2582.JPG" width="320" /></a>After getting settled, I was able to connect with Pablo, my buddy from the Nabaj trip just a week before. We had a great few days of hanging out and visiting all the local hot spots. Pablo is extremely friendly and well respected, so we would bump into people he knew wherever we went. Some people just have that charisma, that spark. I am still trying to figure out how I can be like that, but my introvertedness keeps a tight leash on my extroverterity. Ah well, I am who I am. Anyway, one night we went out for dinner at a place with a nice, relaxed atmosphere. We were eating and talking about the bad old days when who else but the infamous Captain America walked in in a T-shirt and pajama pants (please see my "Nebaj to Todos Santos" post if you need background on my history with Cpt America). They were probably Captain America pj's, but I couldn't tell. Deep thought: I have heard that Chuck Norris wears Superman underwaer, but I bet it's actually Captain America underwaer after meeting the real deal. We could not believe our eyes! We thought he'd left the country, but no, still sticking around like a fly on a turd, like a bad burp that keeps coming back, like a zit on your butt, like...well...you get the point. When he walked by we quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn't notice us. Fortunately, Captain America was no match for such masters of disguise. He passed by oblivious and we burst out laughing. We had just evaded one of the most powerful superheros known to man, and for that I am proud. Fortunate for us, he was with a group of travelers from his hostel, so he was a bit distracted. Not only that, but there was also a dutch gal he was intently focused on, attempting to woo her with his stories of heroism and adventure and fish surgery. We were separated by a small wall, but we kept peeking around to see if he had noticed us. It was quite the fun game we played, kind of like teenage girls trying to get as close as possible to their new heart throb without being noticed. After a while, we lost interest and he passed en route to hang out at the bar. We went unnoticed in plain sight for quite some time. Eventually, he saw us and stopped by to say hello. Our cover was blown, but after some dull and awkward conversation he returned to chat it up with the Dutch apple of his eye. When we said our goodbyes I thought that would be the last I would hear of our friend. Of course, I was dead wrong. There is more to our superhero story, but you will have to stay tuned as the saga continues.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWF7GlEk_2eLjdGw_eQvgcUEStHWpZVuNxE0YtnFMbv35_MwgB-myVNYZOv47Z34OgPUIZiQrdSGhSQq-yldUsX3-xxcbKj9vi0Ii5FezkQqkOfUwHc7NzTnZzeogK5efERXJgRhUWSGI/s1600/CIMG2593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWF7GlEk_2eLjdGw_eQvgcUEStHWpZVuNxE0YtnFMbv35_MwgB-myVNYZOv47Z34OgPUIZiQrdSGhSQq-yldUsX3-xxcbKj9vi0Ii5FezkQqkOfUwHc7NzTnZzeogK5efERXJgRhUWSGI/s320/CIMG2593.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Although Antigua is quite charming and aesthetically pleasing, it is definitely the most expensive place I have found in Guatemala. If you are traveling on a budget, it takes a bit more effort to find reasonably priced accommodation and food. I was able find a few meals for $2-3 US, but it's pretty easy to spend $10+ at most of the restaurants. That may not seem like much to you, but when you are trying to travel on less than $20-30 a day (including food, lodging, transportation, and activities), you don't have much wiggle room after half your cash in gone on a sandwich. I did, however, find a few reasonably priced places to stay on the northwest end of town: International Mochilero, Casa Jacaranda, and Casa Amarillo (didn't actually stay here) are all withing spitting distance of each other. FYI: Mochelero was the best deal because it had a kitchen, wireless internet, and descent dorm.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1qEqFuFcLyrbeI9q7fk_RdwZOTse1IvIl543ZE20goQ3c04Y5KbkONytN8iHZvKUzTG3vHMUSxBh8luhtm73EEqsyGy3sLuB9zJ5Nrlo1TpU3kU46BnnBrvn8RyX-UswMN1nQTquV-0/s1600/CIMG2577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1qEqFuFcLyrbeI9q7fk_RdwZOTse1IvIl543ZE20goQ3c04Y5KbkONytN8iHZvKUzTG3vHMUSxBh8luhtm73EEqsyGy3sLuB9zJ5Nrlo1TpU3kU46BnnBrvn8RyX-UswMN1nQTquV-0/s200/CIMG2577.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Antigua has at least 30 historic churches within it's small city limits, some are in great condition while others are simply piles of rubble. If you get a chance, I highly recommend taking a walk through the hotel Casa Santo Domingo. From what I understand, this was an ancient church 'complex' that occuped an entire city block that has since been excavated by archaeologists and restored into an uber fancy hotel. In fact, it has been awarded the best hotel in Guatemala for a number of years running. It is a dichotomy in and of itself: ancient church ruins meet bedrooms for the rich. The basic room starts at $300 US and goes up from there. Stay 3 nights at Santa Domingo or travel comfortably throughout Guatemala for a month or more??? Yeah, that's a tough decision.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Ry9Pc1MvdyDRGLQPaXEn4f0YvWldSnuulidVL6Yc4f2OrXdqTGRv6Y0ezpslL-vxFPQSbCL3QPyIZh5msuKh1366VTW3nzt3A0kfxbR8V-Zpd93M7WLz1JJvM75DPsMhvt0IpWUVi-Y/s1600/CIMG2634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Ry9Pc1MvdyDRGLQPaXEn4f0YvWldSnuulidVL6Yc4f2OrXdqTGRv6Y0ezpslL-vxFPQSbCL3QPyIZh5msuKh1366VTW3nzt3A0kfxbR8V-Zpd93M7WLz1JJvM75DPsMhvt0IpWUVi-Y/s400/CIMG2634.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>Just to get out of the city for a day, I took a trip to Volcan Pacaya, another one of Guatemala's active volcanoes. Until recently, tourists could walk right up to flowing rivers of lava. However, since the most recent eruption the lava now flows beneath the surface of the lava field. Regardless, I thought it would be cool to check it out. Two things I did not consider: the volcano is a 2 hour van ride from Antigua (that is, without construction) and you have to pay a park fee on top of the guide fees., I should have known that $5 for any half day trip must be too good to be true. Even before we opened the doors of the van at the trail head, we were met by nearly 15 men on horseback enthusiastically offering/begging us to rent their horse for the 'difficult' ascent. And, before all us gringos had exited the van, another 15 or so little boys appeared from between the legs of the horses, kindly begging us to rent a walking stick for the arduous journey ahead. A few tourists were suckered into renting the walking sticks, but no one chose to summit via horseback. Tourism can be a good thing, bringing economic stimulation to an area that was otherwise lacking. However, I find it extremely saddening when I see the negative effects of tourism. Here is a prime example: not only does it change the people for the worse, turning rural families into annoying horse and stick rental agencies, but it also ruins the experience for the tourist/traveler. I'm sure I will be expanding on this point later in my writings. Enough for now, though.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3NCBxYOjo8NSrxcO79J59MQDXtyph2oR4yuYnTDVaWJEntSCoSsROUC50a5_zErW1sejC9_3lJFp5FuWcmKVXU-j9XXXvsFBmmUrV6xZpafgoUpb-YZPFJGwYOUDMQFBCiIOvP1jBTg/s1600/CIMG2623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3NCBxYOjo8NSrxcO79J59MQDXtyph2oR4yuYnTDVaWJEntSCoSsROUC50a5_zErW1sejC9_3lJFp5FuWcmKVXU-j9XXXvsFBmmUrV6xZpafgoUpb-YZPFJGwYOUDMQFBCiIOvP1jBTg/s320/CIMG2623.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>After leaving the parking lot, I expected we would hike in peace up to the crater. Boy, was I wrong! Apparently, the horse rental business is quite slow these days because the guys became extremely annoying and persistent. They followed us as we began to hike at an extremely uncomfortable proximity. I was walking in the back of the pack and I could feel a horse breathing down my neck. I looked back to see his hooves landing only inches from my heels. Now, I am usually comfortable around horses, but this was too close for comfort amidst the chaos. The rider was too busy trying to stay ahead of the other horses, oblivious to that fact that I was nearly being trampled by his Hooves of Death. I quickly decided to quicken my step and let someone else have their achilles tendon severed. If that wasn't enough pestering, a few of our horsey friends would ride ahead or next to us yelling "Taxi! Taxi!" Then they would laugh and say something like "Pretty lady need taxi for walk. So difficult and you so pretty. Ha ha ha." This was not shaping up to be a fun trip. Eventually, we summited in peace and then dropped down into the crater. I wish I could have seen the lava flowing freely, but I think it's better underground as a few of our Australian friends may have fallen in. Nothing against Aussies, it's just that those on this trek weren't the exactly the sharpest sticks in the bunch, and I worry about their personal safety. I will say, though, that it was still cool hiking across a lava field.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFblj7uwGsu-r0iS_TzvAGZKcxkgEXL4qes4T8lBEseT9hUfRz6wg96k1rJmoIBWfcyLLKfauMrG0z-Z5RGRdSsgMR1JT71pIsNPjMTEbWRCkiw26zKx2cb9OoojHl7oDF94kjUBlQQT0/s1600/CIMG2619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFblj7uwGsu-r0iS_TzvAGZKcxkgEXL4qes4T8lBEseT9hUfRz6wg96k1rJmoIBWfcyLLKfauMrG0z-Z5RGRdSsgMR1JT71pIsNPjMTEbWRCkiw26zKx2cb9OoojHl7oDF94kjUBlQQT0/s320/CIMG2619.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We reached a vantage point with a spectacular view of the volcanoes surrounding Antigua. I was able to take some beautiful photos and enjoy the sunset. There is now a large hole in the crater you can climb down into, they called it a natural sauna. It was extremely hot and some even roasted marshmallows by the glowing embers of sauna's walls, but I didn't stay too long since I knew not what kind of toxic fumes I was breathing. The best part of the trip was decent. We basically ran down the mountain of black ash in the dark. A few folks happened to bring their headlamps, but I did not get the memo. There was just enough moonlight to see the trail and dodge the tree silhouettes as they passed by. Yeah, that was cool. <br />
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I then left Antigua and spent 2 incredible weeks on the southern beaches of Guatemala. Upon my return, I spent a night at the Earthlodge. Earthlodge, as you might have guessed, is a very hippy, green, Eco-friendly, vegetarian type place. Although I don't exactly fit that mold, I quite enjoyed my time there. The food was good, the people were chill, and the setting was beautiful as it overlooks Antigua and its volcanoes.<br />
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There are 3 highlights I would like mention from the 20+ hours spent here: The first is the cornhole tournament. What is cornhole, you ask? That is exactly what I thought. It's a similar concept as horse shoes or bocce ball, except that there are 2 wooden box platforms about 25 feet apart, each with a 6 inch hole cut in the top surface. You toss beanbags, very similar in method and order as horse shoes. If you land one on the platform, it counts as 1 point. If you make one through the hole, it counts as 3. For official rules and regs, you can visit the American Cornhole Association's website, www.playcornhole.org They were having their annual cornhole tournament at Earthlodge, so this was probably the best day of the year to be there. Lots of people and lots of fun. It actually got quite competetive, as some of teams were seasoned "cornholers". My teammate and I put up a good fight, but we just couldn't compete with the pros. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cPhV886cfXb9Wg2TGqpqw8LTmaK5_lQMpOES3XJ3tS9A4TsY_4MqFuMh4NY3esCuWJQvXOVH8IQYJ5IDWFwEkjewZyL9rDOYLavQuUDgDf8MC3s7bFIQtTB1i-6THjTPc8bbFqPba9E/s1600/CIMG8788.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cPhV886cfXb9Wg2TGqpqw8LTmaK5_lQMpOES3XJ3tS9A4TsY_4MqFuMh4NY3esCuWJQvXOVH8IQYJ5IDWFwEkjewZyL9rDOYLavQuUDgDf8MC3s7bFIQtTB1i-6THjTPc8bbFqPba9E/s320/CIMG8788.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>After an intense afternoon of cornholing, I needed some serious heat therapy relaxation, and was I in luck! Earthlodge has a temascal, the Mayan version of a sauna. Temascals are basically igloos made of rock or concrete or earth. A fire is lit below a layer of rocks to heat the hut. Igloo + hot rocks + water = sauna = me gusta mucho. Once you climb in, it only takes a few minutes to start sweating profusely. The temascals I had enjoyed on the Nebaj trip were built to hold 3 or 4 Mayan (or approximately 1.5 large gringos who can't sit up straight without getting black soot in their hair). The one at Earthlodge is awesome because it comfortably seats about 8-10 people of my size, and there is plenty of head room. I must have stayed in there for over an hour, only stepping out periodically to cool off and marvel at a spectacular starry night. I have decided that if and when I ever settle down somewhere, I am going to build myself a temascal. It will go great with my New Zealand inspired homemade claw foot bathtub hot tub.<br />
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After leaking all the toxins from my sweat glands as well as a cold shower, I found a lone chair at the edge of the property overlooking the city. I sat down to enjoy the stars and ponder life. But before the wheels of thought could start turning, I was awestruck as I watched Volcan Fuego erupt. I knew Fuego was active, but I no idea it spewed massive amounts of molten lava from its crater on a regular basis, and I had no idea it was such a spectacular sight to see at night. The volcano must have been having some heartburn and indigestion because I watched it erupt at least 5 times in 45 minutes. Post temascal relaxation + bright, starry night + mountain top view + erupting volcano = a state of awe and wonder. As I close my eyes, it's as if I am back in that chair on that warm January night, I cannot help but smile. I have had moments like this at home, but these travel experiences are somehow different. These are the special moments that make life so rich, experiences make this journey so memorable. Not only do they confirm me in knowing that I am meant to be here, but they also create a thirst for more. I am having a hard time putting this into words...It's the special little moments that fuel my passion for travel. They are not the sole driving force, but they are an affirmation, if you will. They are like a cold soda or beer after a long day of hard work in the blistering sun. That's it! They are simply refreshing...refreshing moments and memories that quench my thirst yet leave me desiring more. It's a awesome dichotomy to find yourself in, I love this feeling, and I think that is what helps keep me trekking along on this walk into the unknown.<br />
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Wow, I feel like I just had an epiphany, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I like this feeling. I see now why journaling/blogging is so important. I can think and ponder and chew over life's mysteries in my mind for hours upon hours and end up back where I began, but something special happens when I express myself in writing. I can't explain it, maybe I should write about it, eh? I never was much of a writer, but it must activate something subconsciously within. Weird.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5mb4yTark_ouoS-9L9IvDSTKICiEsinS-8hAyMa2YuF2iMdGlENjUYoaGtxU115ZNkjFe7aPRaYVy45e9u83xulDfruL5rGOvbBSAlPycncOXNyMhAh0IpmFkjbuLWYjKudiRglvbAY/s1600/CIMG2585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5mb4yTark_ouoS-9L9IvDSTKICiEsinS-8hAyMa2YuF2iMdGlENjUYoaGtxU115ZNkjFe7aPRaYVy45e9u83xulDfruL5rGOvbBSAlPycncOXNyMhAh0IpmFkjbuLWYjKudiRglvbAY/s320/CIMG2585.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Enough deep thoughts, let's talk about something shallow like money, or even better, the thievery of money. Yes, I was robbed, but in a very unexpected way. But, before we get to the gory details, I must mention my awesome debit account and just as awesome banker. One of my old travel buddies told me about the ATM Rebate Account from First Republic Bank. This account is so awesome because there are no ATM fees anywhere in the world! I could not believe it at first, it sounded too good to be true, but it's not. They actually pay for every ATM transaction fee, no matter where I am, no matter what ATM I use. This means that I don't have to carry a lot of cash while on the road. I figure I will save hundreds of dollars this year on ATM fees alone! Not only that, but Jill, my banker, has been so wonderful to work with. She is always cheerful and so willing to answer any questions. If you are interested in such an account, I would highly recommend contacting Jill at First Republic Bank of Portland. You will not be disappointed. Back to the thievery...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80KLLlJN_woLtGwis3qqV2o9Gtt8iSwgqR97gFoibbXw8rTNg1c5YwAePH8l-3M_lEzwIE22-ea9P39hxrGcqArFz0LzdcuvAnJoSm9Xuhi5QNOGIEV_jCrxZDlIkIRjnsghPdIOlo0E/s1600/IMG_0390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80KLLlJN_woLtGwis3qqV2o9Gtt8iSwgqR97gFoibbXw8rTNg1c5YwAePH8l-3M_lEzwIE22-ea9P39hxrGcqArFz0LzdcuvAnJoSm9Xuhi5QNOGIEV_jCrxZDlIkIRjnsghPdIOlo0E/s320/IMG_0390.JPG" width="240" /></a>Antigua has a very beautiful central park with a fountain in the center surrounded by many beautiful trees. It is a great place to relax and watch people, especially at night when the trees are illuminated by Christmas lights. The park is surrounded by coffee shops, restaurants, government buildings, and ATMs. There are other ATMs in Antigua, but those around the central park are just so darn convenient. I had heard that I must be careful using these ATMs. I was to only use the ones from reputable banks because there had been an ongoing scam where some hackers had loaded software or debit card reading devices into one or more of these ATM machines. When an unsuspecting victim (me, for example) withdraws money from an account, the hacker program downloads the card number and PIN. From there the precious account information is sent down to Columbia where a partner in crime withdraws your daily limit from an ATM in Bogota. I was very careful which ATMs I used, but somehow they got my information. I did not check my debit account on a regular basis, but for some reason I looked at it just a few days after leaving Antigua. In just 3 days, they had stolen over $1,100 from my debit account. As soon as I noticed this, I immediately called Jill and told her what had happened. She froze my account and emailed all the necessary paperwork. I was a bit nervous that the cash was gone forever, but Jill told me everything would be alright. It took a few days, but the bank reimbursed the stolen cash. The worst part is that my debit card was useless, so I needed a new one. Luckily, Jill had outfitted me with a spare in case of emergencies (good work Jill), and I was able to access my account. She then had a new one made and rush delivered to Belize. When I say 'rush', I mean that it took over 2 weeks, but that's because the mail system down here is crap. Jill and First Republic Bank have been wonderful to work with and I would highly recommend this account to anyone, whether traveler or not. This is the first time that I have had anything significant stolen from me and it shook me up a bit, but it was actually more annoying than anything. On the bright side, at least some Columbian douchebag is having a good time with my hard earned cash. I'm glad I could support such a worthy cause. Maybe this person of undetermined gender is using it to better the world...yeah, whatever.<br />
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All that said, I really enjoyed Antigua. Be prepared for lots of tourists and lots of English, but it really is a beautiful little city. I would put it on my 'must see in Guatemala' list. It's definitely worth the stop, if even for only a few days.<br />
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</div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-32174629792018266892011-03-11T08:09:00.000-08:002011-03-13T10:55:41.469-07:005) Nebaj to Todos Santos<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:HyphenationZone>21</w:HyphenationZone> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>ES</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> <w:UseFELayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF8Ct4kybtRwgoTFPXKHni8F9FM8smeS35gz_QCjWHVv4n0PyPQ6Iw4G3qE0zwJwb5LnCxUHbm4wKtJsPnSw9Z61tw1ybRQrIf7uXwGLHPwn0tOWAbbm2tAFlt9pFPj5Z-BcQZq2JaEz0/s1600/CIMG2451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF8Ct4kybtRwgoTFPXKHni8F9FM8smeS35gz_QCjWHVv4n0PyPQ6Iw4G3qE0zwJwb5LnCxUHbm4wKtJsPnSw9Z61tw1ybRQrIf7uXwGLHPwn0tOWAbbm2tAFlt9pFPj5Z-BcQZq2JaEz0/s320/CIMG2451.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"> I went on my third expedition with Quetzaltrekkers just after the first of the New Year, shortly after finishing my studies at Utatlan. This is the longest of the treks offered by Qtrekkers, and hands down a favorite amongst the guides, that is, minus rare lunar eclipse hikes. This adventure begins not at the trailhead, but with a pleasant 3 hour chicken bus ride followed by a lovely 2.5 hours minivan experience. The minivan shuttles here are similar to the chicken buses (roof racks overflowing with backpacks, boxes, and giant bags of stuff) except for some reason, generally speaking of course, the seats are more beat up and uncomfortable than those of the busses and the minivan drivers don't drive as wildly out of control. In fact, many of the minivan operators drive extremely slow, too slow for my comfort. There is a limit for a safe cruising speed on every road, and minivans often stay well below that threshold. Regardless of minivan or bus, you are putting your life in their hands. Buses simply get you where you're going much quicker and their air horns are much louder. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_JcHMQRRB7hVZltXyNphMfFpnFiSx6kmrSto6PyKXoO-HwC7Ocvmk_592iQ0XXfY-HO1ZaxkZJi53U-sE2xe_bug0b2abpIVqzD01Ig7db9dyZbN1sMRvqrHxNSp6Kgkmk-Ga4mffrCI/s1600/CIMG2373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_JcHMQRRB7hVZltXyNphMfFpnFiSx6kmrSto6PyKXoO-HwC7Ocvmk_592iQ0XXfY-HO1ZaxkZJi53U-sE2xe_bug0b2abpIVqzD01Ig7db9dyZbN1sMRvqrHxNSp6Kgkmk-Ga4mffrCI/s320/CIMG2373.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN">We arrived safely in Nebaj, a small mountain town. We spent the evening exploring the market and cemetery, then called it a night. We started the trek early the next morning walking straight out of town. From here on out, the details of the four day trek are a bit fuzzy (sorry, but it's not because of liquor, mushrooms, or any mind altering drugs, it all just kind of blends together). We would walk for 5-7 hours each day, stopping for a lunch of veggie sandwiches. As some of you know, I am a big meat eater, but I actually quite enjoyed the smorgasbord of veggies piled high on a homemade bun with bean spread and ranchero sauce. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjEKe-U5vEoRjJD5wcVifwqFs4Thrg0CrTOX1s6QDjKYbsi3TXF75eUCMsHhp1T3Pq8Qo9S5s-kTkgWbPxuAGoV8pv45xXYwHHNNduxx5emFv4JvcC7bbZWHmFROvlorxDbNBsGaMI66E/s1600/CIMG2454.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjEKe-U5vEoRjJD5wcVifwqFs4Thrg0CrTOX1s6QDjKYbsi3TXF75eUCMsHhp1T3Pq8Qo9S5s-kTkgWbPxuAGoV8pv45xXYwHHNNduxx5emFv4JvcC7bbZWHmFROvlorxDbNBsGaMI66E/s320/CIMG2454.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN">The highlands of Guatemala are quite different than anything I had imagined I would find in this beautiful country, and walking through them was a great way to experience them. Basically, the highlands are a high mountain (hence the terms 'high' and 'lands'), plateau-ish area with lots of small mountain peaks and valleys. I was amazed at the diversity of the landscape, by how many different microenvironments we walked through, and now I am going to do a sub mediocre job of describing them for you. Most of the mountains are covered in green stuff such as trees and shrubbery. We walked through a boulder field atop a mountain peak that had some of the most unique rock formations I have ever seen. This photo looks like a rugged mountain range rising high in the clear, blue sky. However, it is a close up one of the unique rocks in this boulder field. Ha! Fooled you! We stopped at a beautiful cattle ranch with green grass and happy, healthy cows (again, a rarity in this country) to buy some cheese. Side note: they had deer, goat, and dog heads that had been dried, mounted on plaques like hunting trophies, and hung on the walls outside the main house. I have included a few more beautiful photos of these trophies in my photo album for your viewing pleasure. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TdarFgMJZonTWleA8EDX77ddsUi9HhPPvkngwn-AdPUzRZ5IfbE_Abh0EcJ1NMkIYGtEZUzFBiJT7CV5rXIXNU2vu2VAN57W3CfBy2F3S6VrgbEb6sJvwUj6qbaaVCFbS7zDLjyOZ_k/s1600/CIMG2384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TdarFgMJZonTWleA8EDX77ddsUi9HhPPvkngwn-AdPUzRZ5IfbE_Abh0EcJ1NMkIYGtEZUzFBiJT7CV5rXIXNU2vu2VAN57W3CfBy2F3S6VrgbEb6sJvwUj6qbaaVCFbS7zDLjyOZ_k/s200/CIMG2384.JPG" width="200" /></a><span lang="EN"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMTwL-NuUjFzMF1fViGyg09ARjJnytLFLkE5Nchv3vgwN6wueIaIxAZ12D-9W9d-D3TtgMKKV-kuKIiuRrGwqfZZ2rD15C6RrOuRnDJIDnYCJOoq3jKcEgzt7qNVa3JvixSDEfp4JBTk/s1600/CIMG2433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMTwL-NuUjFzMF1fViGyg09ARjJnytLFLkE5Nchv3vgwN6wueIaIxAZ12D-9W9d-D3TtgMKKV-kuKIiuRrGwqfZZ2rD15C6RrOuRnDJIDnYCJOoq3jKcEgzt7qNVa3JvixSDEfp4JBTk/s320/CIMG2433.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN">We got up way too early the second morning, somewhere around 4 am, after trying to sleep 15 or so backpackers in a small, one room schoolhouse with a not-so-soft concrete floor. It was a rude wake up call and I was very much grumpy, but there was nothing I could do but start walking. We kept hiking, up and up, and then we continued hiking in the dark. I think they said there were 82 or so switchbacks on the trail. We were doing this so that we could watch the sunrise from a pseudo summit viewpoint. Once I was fully awake, I was surprised how much fun I had hiking by the light of my headlamp so early in the morning. Without being able to see what lay ahead or behind, all I could do was focus on the present moment, the small patch of trail that lay before my eyes. Now that I think about it, this is a good philosophy in life: not forgetting where you've been while also keeping future possibilities in the back of you mind, but putting most of your focus, heart, and energy into getting the most out of the path that lies right before you. The sunrise was nice and breakfast was bland, but the journey to get there is what stands out in my mind. I shall see if I can apply this philosophy while on this wee journey. I guess I got off track for a moment there, but those special moments and little life lessons are making this journey so wonderful, they are one of my favorite aspects of traveling. I have already picked up a few gems along this journey of self discovery, which makes me excited for how much more I will learn along the way. Back to the walk...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSFgkNRv_xYMJTfIqwBIL42cFs9pAWGlYN_8AXucPg8LH5eEYBGtaiZaYD1C-aHJ-SPz0oCgLkcU-tg1FIgA1KH2yvshBds88IYO9ynX_-J6rRT98OcqoAZljRwZm0tN6adGvqfXrs30g/s1600/CIMG2486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSFgkNRv_xYMJTfIqwBIL42cFs9pAWGlYN_8AXucPg8LH5eEYBGtaiZaYD1C-aHJ-SPz0oCgLkcU-tg1FIgA1KH2yvshBds88IYO9ynX_-J6rRT98OcqoAZljRwZm0tN6adGvqfXrs30g/s400/CIMG2486.JPG" width="400" /></a><span lang="EN">We walked through tiny villages, some apparently abandoned. Many were far from any other civilization, only accessible by foot or by helicopter. Of course, I was shocked when I actually saw a helicopter in what I thought was the middle of nowhere. It seemed like every village had at least one helicopter parked somewhere nearby, often with goats resting beneath its shade. Occasionally, we'd see kids playing inside the cockpit, pretending they were flying. We even saw a few young boys on top of one chopper, one of them dangling from the large propeller blades. I never thought I would see anything like that in rural Guatemala, and I didn't because there weren't any helicopters. Too bad, it would make getting around in those parts much easier. Actually, these were incredibly poor areas. The shacks were tiny and so simple, but there wasn't the filth found in the slums of large cities. These people seem to live very simple and peaceful lives, living off the land. Apparently, most of the land in the highlands is owned by the government and these locals are allowed to set up home where they please. Most had small flocks of sheep and/or goats that they graze, which leads me to believe that many are nomads. So, some of the 'abandoned' villages likely had returning habitants. When we were enjoying the view from that unique boulder field I previously mentioned, which happened to border one of these small villages, a herd of goats ran through the middle of our group. What I found to be so cool was there bells, each made out of an old refried bean can with a piece of metal dangling in the middle, making a very soft rattling sound with each step. You could say I heard the herd. If I ever have a goat or large dog or medium-sized child, I'm going to make a refried bean can bell for it, and I shall have pride when I hear my refried bean can bell jingling jangling in the back yard. However, I need to live in the now, for my refried bean can bell time will come. Venga lo qué venga.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvt3F6HHueN9GIcIhpwOWWuaW_TLLJUVluHLPz1bNNuKrsoACkZpLNq56a-CsVXr_CpiJhHwDMWrcSSvnZNybJT_C11vDyp2u2ETfOnRnurk6pjfr-YX3AnoD5VrPkzf4cIoZ3CVFsHg0/s1600/CIMG2475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvt3F6HHueN9GIcIhpwOWWuaW_TLLJUVluHLPz1bNNuKrsoACkZpLNq56a-CsVXr_CpiJhHwDMWrcSSvnZNybJT_C11vDyp2u2ETfOnRnurk6pjfr-YX3AnoD5VrPkzf4cIoZ3CVFsHg0/s320/CIMG2475.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN">There were lots of ups and downs in the trail the first few days, but day 3 was spent walking through a plateau of incredibly dry grassland. Apparently, their dry season truly is dry, months without any precipitation. We walked along a dusty road for hours, carving our way through fields of tall, dead grass surrounded by rock walls topped with aloe plants. The last day we climbed El Torre (that's Spanish for 'The Torre'), the highest non-volcanic point in Guatemala and maybe even Central America, for a mediocre view. One of the locals joined us on this portion of our trip and told us about the recent past of Guatemala while resting on the summit. As some of you know, there were many years of bloody, civil unrest here in the 80's and early 90's. He told us how it changed the country and how it impacted his family directly. One night when the family was sleeping, the militia broke into their house and captured his uncle and a few other of the village leaders. He watched while 2 of these leaders, also dear friends of the family, were murdered in front of everyone. Then, he described in great detail how his uncle was brutally tortured as an example to anyone in the village considering opposing the militia. Basically, he was burned, beaten, strung up, strangulated, and finally stabbed in the back to puncture his lung. The family was sure he was dead when they brought his body back to their home. However, within minutes he had regained his consciousness. Within 2 hours he was sitting up on his own and trying to stand. Miraculously, he recovered without complication and is alive and healthy today. It was truly a moving and almost unbelievable story. I knew there had been civil unrest, but I had no idea to what extent the bloodshed and damage had been committed in this country. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP448llI4Xg82d1Dtcs6dcJhF4AthbFUjL1I7plgQBExgn0d8_aYXekZDCs-vtKD_hLQhaPA7CvZZ08ao8p6otUWau5oYAYAV1onYJ1FpU_SIrBL8e1lNz-XSoAanbBSXqZBmHohLysKk/s1600/CIMG2523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP448llI4Xg82d1Dtcs6dcJhF4AthbFUjL1I7plgQBExgn0d8_aYXekZDCs-vtKD_hLQhaPA7CvZZ08ao8p6otUWau5oYAYAV1onYJ1FpU_SIrBL8e1lNz-XSoAanbBSXqZBmHohLysKk/s320/CIMG2523.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">It's a very sad story, though quite mild to what has happened and is happening in so many other parts of the world. I feel honored to hear it from someone who lived through it. Why is it in our human nature to turn on each other and dedicate our lives to killing each other? I have no concept of what it is like to live through something like this, to live in mortal fear, asking myself each and every morning if this is the day that I am going to die. So sad, so surreal, so powerful. It kind of gives me that depressed, futile feeling, and I don't like it. Most of us have no idea what that fear feels like, and I hope that we never will. However, these sober thoughts should make us exceedingly grateful for all that we have. We are all so incredibly blessed living in the Western world, and especially in the States, in so many ways. I cannot believe some of the things my eyes have seen in the past 3 months, observing how most of the world actually lives. This subject is an entire blog post all its own, and I may share my heart when the time is right. What I am trying to say is that I am beginning to see how much I take for granted on a daily basis. It brings me to my knees in thankfulness.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9ayg9JmqI7sC8PL-tHjqgaRhipi858iqJjMwOzhsYYaXlaHUGsJ7K3w-9ga7trVIWP-CyWRCilKSIYPKHbTb-FPFh-Y3IR6Ipyv4nqqWIcsUKb0mvlAbmWUSNIVZjN9Ca7I33c5wxiw/s1600/CIMG2536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9ayg9JmqI7sC8PL-tHjqgaRhipi858iqJjMwOzhsYYaXlaHUGsJ7K3w-9ga7trVIWP-CyWRCilKSIYPKHbTb-FPFh-Y3IR6Ipyv4nqqWIcsUKb0mvlAbmWUSNIVZjN9Ca7I33c5wxiw/s320/CIMG2536.JPG" width="240" /></a><span lang="EN">We then spent the rest of the day descending into the pueblo of Todos Santos. Many of these high mountain Mayan villages have their own style of clothing, setting themselves apart from nearby villages. While most of the differences are subtle to the untrained eye, the men of Todos Santos have taken it to the extreme. They all wear bright red pants with light colored vertical stripes. Often they have white shirts with light blue (almost denim) jackets and small, round, white top hats with a thick, blue belt resting above the brim. What really took me off guard were the young men. Some were in traditional attire, but they had their baggy red pants magically suspended below their butts. They were also a bit pimped out like our brothers in the hood, hanging out in small groups and listening to wrap music, likely talking about ´the bros and the <span>hoes´</span>. Talk about a clash of cultures! It's amazing how our music has infiltrated the world, but I'm too tired to go off on that soap box right now. So, I bought myself a pair of those striped red pants. Yep, somehow I found a pair that fits! One day, if you're lucky, you may see me on the dance floor in Argentina, busting a sweet tango move in my baggy, red pants.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvWt7Mw9bbaeypUnVXOWhwRuv4GmrhuPOu4Opcajy7j2tr4QGAvP06HSMxz7k_RrhWI832jQh40pl6axeo3eGnSs03yLvDIxXHXEOYyp2rHCrt8ORIQhKTSRzYpHCH1ecv_0UR1oKdOQ/s1600/CIMG2409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvWt7Mw9bbaeypUnVXOWhwRuv4GmrhuPOu4Opcajy7j2tr4QGAvP06HSMxz7k_RrhWI832jQh40pl6axeo3eGnSs03yLvDIxXHXEOYyp2rHCrt8ORIQhKTSRzYpHCH1ecv_0UR1oKdOQ/s320/CIMG2409.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">After a night in small, prison, concrete cell-like hotel room, I had to get up super early again (notice a common theme here?) to catch the 5am bus back to Xela. We were told that the first bus out of Todos Santos is always spacious, and that we would all get our own seat. I spent the 3 hour ride atop a pile of dusty burlap bags behind the back seat while most of my amigos were packed like sardines, some of which were 'keystoning it'. I was actually fairly comfortable, minus the broken exhaust pipe blowing fresh diesel exhaust straight into the bus. I never did get sick, but I sure felt like crap by the time I got off that bus. Had to change buses in Huehuetenango for another multi hour joyride, but we made it home safely.<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEyLA8X_wQUxYl58VroWVt6CW-80HkyDgJG7JSzep0NmuNRJk6AnVIHWPhf6-XPMX4zTZ3q_l-uG-bVgaR_4clslxeEkLV2hmzqlCf916pupsUoWgsgliRSuQjtPoQuHbh6EzdM6EhhA/s1600/CIMG2521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEyLA8X_wQUxYl58VroWVt6CW-80HkyDgJG7JSzep0NmuNRJk6AnVIHWPhf6-XPMX4zTZ3q_l-uG-bVgaR_4clslxeEkLV2hmzqlCf916pupsUoWgsgliRSuQjtPoQuHbh6EzdM6EhhA/s320/CIMG2521.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">I do need to take a moment and mention a little bit about group I joined for said walk in the lands of highness. Our guides consisted of two gals from the States and young guy from Australia. They were lots of fun and all wore those goofy, cheap, colorful sunglasses. About half the people in the group were from the States, the rest from Europe along with one lone Guatemalan. Two of the gals who have been living in Guatemala brought their dogs with them, a German shepherd and a rescued street dog. I usually don't have a problem with dogs, but these got on my nerves quite quickly. Neither was well trained, or at least they didn't listen worth beans. There were a few times that these dogs started chasing the cows on the trail and fighting with the local dogs in the villages, but no discipline or control was exercised. I almost disciplined their dogs for them, but I didn't think that would go over well. One gal didn't even bring a leash for her dog! Seriously people. These lovable canines would weave their way through our legs while we walked in single file line. They would then stop suddenly in the middle of the trail, turn around, run back to their owners, turn back around after checking on said owner, then start weaving their way back through us again. This happened throughout the entire trip. It was not a problem when there was lots of room for them to run, but much of the trail was tight and steep and I nearly tripped a few times. A number of remarks were made in the presence of said owner, but nothing changed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUU65X763YAZy54mGQiBJgyDv4PDalKwDyjKFoM3ai_vFQKTfsyf4MDrvhxqgXb7PPrOVJLWH19-rdjFmk86TqVvNpMb5PWGGS4lBr3oBfOXqiDYdU5zVL7ma926807Z2hq7pGxLHNeQI/s1600/CIMG2445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUU65X763YAZy54mGQiBJgyDv4PDalKwDyjKFoM3ai_vFQKTfsyf4MDrvhxqgXb7PPrOVJLWH19-rdjFmk86TqVvNpMb5PWGGS4lBr3oBfOXqiDYdU5zVL7ma926807Z2hq7pGxLHNeQI/s320/CIMG2445.JPG" width="240" /></a><span lang="EN">Anyways, there was a commercial fisherman from Alaska, one of the last guys I'd ever expected to see abroad. His name was Gus and he made me look small standing next to him. Apparently, he had visited Vietnam and Cuba in years past, so he had a bit of travel bug in his blood. I also met a really cool gal from NY who has moved to Nicaragua and now runs a surf camp on the Pacific coast. I plan to visit her at some point on this journey, perform some spays and neuters for her community, and do a lot of surfing. I did spend a week at a surf camp in Guatemala, and I will talk about that experience soon enough, so don't get the surf camps confused. So many surf camps, so little time. To my surprise, Captain America also joined the trip and he brought his harmonica with him. He was an amazing man that could do almost anything. He was also a walking/talking/singing encyclopedia, extremely knowledgeable on so many topics. He sure knew a lot about a lot of things, and he told us about them. However, hiking in peace and quiet was not part of his <span>repertoire</span> as he had no off switch. Let's just say he kept things interesting, not a dull moment. There was also a German couple who tagged along to take pictures of the trek. However, they were not very friendly and they didn't have to pay anything because they were doing a photo documentary for publicity's sake and they had their own guide so they could hike ahead of us and we carried all their food for them for some reason. Of course, there were no hard feelings amongst the group. Of all the people on the walk, I really connected with a Guatemalan named Pablo. Pablo is just a cool, quality guy. His father is Egyptian and his mother is Indian, but he was born and raised in Guatemala. As you can imagine, he was quite a mix of cultural, lingual, and spiritual diversity. We are of similar mindset and temperament, therefore we had some incredible conversations, most of which were in Spanish. Actually, we would hang in the back of the group and talk as we walked. Not only was it refreshing to get away from the annoying dogs and ever-present superhero, but I learned heaps of Spanish. Have you ever met someone that you immediately connect with and you carry on a friendship like you've known each other for a long time? This was one of those experiences, one that I truly value. When I think back to that trip, I remember most the good times that we had. Another life lesson: It's not so much where you are or what you are doing (working, traveling, studying, etc), it's the people you are with that will make or break your experience. Enough said. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYVNtw4KO-326izLzMwtGnW8bUWPtOHAgwJsHhyphenhyphenw7Yi_9YT561__d0uqXwBsLdWyWqaC8cjUrWEvo1VI8BnF7HvV0zc6dQegf1L8PFTX0IknnlV2kcY3eiTaap8eem1LDKDVPN0jzaXU/s1600/IMG_3191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYVNtw4KO-326izLzMwtGnW8bUWPtOHAgwJsHhyphenhyphenw7Yi_9YT561__d0uqXwBsLdWyWqaC8cjUrWEvo1VI8BnF7HvV0zc6dQegf1L8PFTX0IknnlV2kcY3eiTaap8eem1LDKDVPN0jzaXU/s200/IMG_3191.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">The most epic adventure I had with Qtrekkers was hiking the volcano Santa Maria during the full moon and lunar eclipse. This was definitely one of those special experiences that I will always remember. We started hiking around midnight in the light of the full moon. Shortly after the eclipse began. At first just a sliver of the moon had darkened, but within a short time the entire moon had turned a deep orange color. It was so peaceful hiking by the light of the moon, stopping regularly to watch the shadow of the earth creep across the face of the moon. By the time the eclipse was full, I had to turn my headlamp on because there was simply no moonlight for hiking. Approximately a third of the way up the volcano, we stopped for a long break. I left the group and found a quiet place to lie on my sleeping pad in the tall grass and watch the stars. To my pleasure, I saw 5 or 6 shooting stars between the volcano and the eclipsed moon. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZ-UbNdNW1t37XtxHJGI9MpPYH6EUsbj45AbuJ63Wz4Lqtazce2vhGzv8Oi1STt7UD2kWHMKm8UMhwjIhdT7t_T4ja7bYVzG9d_ttptAZaIEedc7E2eEOQtt8PTLg8qUpsuSiCIb7QRo/s1600/IMG_3266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZ-UbNdNW1t37XtxHJGI9MpPYH6EUsbj45AbuJ63Wz4Lqtazce2vhGzv8Oi1STt7UD2kWHMKm8UMhwjIhdT7t_T4ja7bYVzG9d_ttptAZaIEedc7E2eEOQtt8PTLg8qUpsuSiCIb7QRo/s320/IMG_3266.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN">We resumed our hike to the summit. It was quite a huff as we climbed around 3,500 - 4,000 vertical feet. Xela sits at 2,335m and Volcan Santa Maria summits at 3,772m. I think this was the first time I was really affected by the elevation. I would find myself exhausted and breathing hard after only 50-100 steps, but after a short rest I would be fully recharged. I continued this pattern to the summit, resting every few minutes to marvel at a form of the moon I had never seen before. At approximately 4am, after about 4 hours of hiking, we approached the summit as the eclipse waned. I was exhausted and was not prepared for the view I was about to experience. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSzq-BwXJutPeGxt-FciXN8DWMJihRr-UGbJjfn5y5D_9YOurEqEq5Mfn37pQtymg3zeriqoUDuV8_RPtrSD1HZTMqkrQUp8LmIW6nTPrzB_q7wHg_iRSVMFWRfphYpBmm6FpwITMqXQ/s1600/IMG_3479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSzq-BwXJutPeGxt-FciXN8DWMJihRr-UGbJjfn5y5D_9YOurEqEq5Mfn37pQtymg3zeriqoUDuV8_RPtrSD1HZTMqkrQUp8LmIW6nTPrzB_q7wHg_iRSVMFWRfphYpBmm6FpwITMqXQ/s320/IMG_3479.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN">It is hard to put into words what I saw. As I stood on the top of the volcano, I could see for countless miles in every direction under the intense light of the full moon in a cloudless, starry sky. Below me to the northeast glowed the lights of Xela. To the northwest I could see Volcan Tajumulco (4220m), the highest point in Central America. Past Tajumulco stood Volcan Tacaná (4093m), just inside the Mexican border. To the southwest, a thick layer of fog had crept from the Pacific Ocean over the coastline and had made its way up the valley bottoms between Santa Maria and Tajumulco, accenting the long mountain ridges. To the southeast rose the volcanoes surrounding Lake Atitlan and Antigua. Occasionally, I could see a small plume of smoke and ash spurt from Volcan Fuego in the far distance. This view was truly spectacular, truly breathtaking. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnKMwrjY62uZ9G2XBf1inlfnnfn_GKGanoj-YBu2vXW4ycNx8uEQrwOixz8eqti2tvXFKXL4-mIV8usbeJ9AKGOBX3R52VKk0YofyOYUZj2At7xIFe0epRLnjgRD_bz0n1hDlPOICYco/s1600/IMG_3425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnKMwrjY62uZ9G2XBf1inlfnnfn_GKGanoj-YBu2vXW4ycNx8uEQrwOixz8eqti2tvXFKXL4-mIV8usbeJ9AKGOBX3R52VKk0YofyOYUZj2At7xIFe0epRLnjgRD_bz0n1hDlPOICYco/s200/IMG_3425.JPG" width="200" /></a><span lang="EN">Before I was able absorb the view, I put on all 5 or 6 layers from my pack as it was extremely cold atop the volcano. There were no clouds, but there's no question there was a cold wind was present. After taking in as much of the cold as I could, I curled up in my sleeping bag behind a rock. At the southwest base of Santa Maria is Volcan Santaiguito, the one I talked about earlier. From my resting place I could see part of the crater below. At approximately 5:30am, I looked over and saw a large plume of smoke rise towards the summit and gently float away. Pretty cool to see a volcano erupt from above. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA8ticDsG3UcyQTOhKJa0GpPIezIzL130Nv9qshxn8ikyevQmTMuTvwUZ3UipqJCmNgN9ieP613h1eoqFUXLaC7YxSw2wBSnEs9e0khX2w8QQRfDppUUjYtOIWt47W3jg7OGqpP-_TuW8/s1600/IMG_3341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA8ticDsG3UcyQTOhKJa0GpPIezIzL130Nv9qshxn8ikyevQmTMuTvwUZ3UipqJCmNgN9ieP613h1eoqFUXLaC7YxSw2wBSnEs9e0khX2w8QQRfDppUUjYtOIWt47W3jg7OGqpP-_TuW8/s320/IMG_3341.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">Just after 6am, the sky began to lighten and the sun began to rise. I had to move to the other side of the summit, facing into the wind, but it was worth it. I enjoyed a spectacular sunrise over the southeastern volcanoes of Antigua. The sky changed colors, from black to deep blue, then to pink and orange. After the sun had rose, I walked back to the other side of the summit where I witnessed the giant, triangular shadow of Santa Maria extending toward Volcan Tacaná in Mexico, just below a brilliantly pink northwestern horizon. If that wasn't enough, the tip of the shadow was almost perfectly aligned with the moon. Chance? I think not.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsjyzg7kucDjLlm3nRsVZn_n2dOSPyCnBh7hF5v4DN19zzLmUEzuGYvCao08uhgt9SgLDNzJ7Km0i8anklfUMj3ouI-mM-FGTn4AaEYS6lypNDlbd0JimRFDjgSgRa0Q6GVHz3IvQ0Ecg/s1600/CIMG2284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsjyzg7kucDjLlm3nRsVZn_n2dOSPyCnBh7hF5v4DN19zzLmUEzuGYvCao08uhgt9SgLDNzJ7Km0i8anklfUMj3ouI-mM-FGTn4AaEYS6lypNDlbd0JimRFDjgSgRa0Q6GVHz3IvQ0Ecg/s320/CIMG2284.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN">After the moon had set and the sun was climbing in the sky, we began our decent that warm December day. I was awestruck. All I could think about on the way down was what I had just seen. I couldn't believe it, it was truly a magical experience. I have seen some amazing views in my day, but this was different than the others. There was something very special, almost surreal about this vista. I cannot describe it, but I can feel it as I close my eyes. It makes me smile. I would do it again in a heartbeat if given the chance. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">I soon realized how fortunate I was to have this experience. The following day I talked to my dad who said he had trouble seeing the eclipse as it was a cloudy night back home. That would not be the first time I would hear about the clouds as some of my friends had a hard time catching a glimpse of the eclipse as well. I was also informed that Central America was the best place in the world to see the eclipse. All things considered, I would say that the stars (and moon in this case) were perfectly aligned. I will cherish this experience as long as I can. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNNf8LaO_1bS2P6YI8gp7k2tWXgTBQ81-q9dx8IsI5afEZ72g5YtJHXFNHgOyadECQuPlsDoNmxCZtY5pVWSPidZjITvMNan4KBXu7rSB1duDU5feCCZT7Amp5miqZ05xF_iWiZoth5t4/s1600/CIMG2297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNNf8LaO_1bS2P6YI8gp7k2tWXgTBQ81-q9dx8IsI5afEZ72g5YtJHXFNHgOyadECQuPlsDoNmxCZtY5pVWSPidZjITvMNan4KBXu7rSB1duDU5feCCZT7Amp5miqZ05xF_iWiZoth5t4/s400/CIMG2297.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-64007142880478999732011-03-10T18:54:00.000-08:002011-03-13T10:52:17.629-07:003) Volcán Santiaguito<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCpRU1Lrsl2pyIJw5wGhtZVZcnGYuPs65HtqCtp40w9DU9Qmr8bOy2kwyzRSjV7WGljp0M-f79-LyOUswX6vwZOBj632QSRLvGrMJQKr_Y_Cubj3I9UtTc_vQ6cPJvOSUQUd5vqLhK1U/s1600/CIMG2167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCpRU1Lrsl2pyIJw5wGhtZVZcnGYuPs65HtqCtp40w9DU9Qmr8bOy2kwyzRSjV7WGljp0M-f79-LyOUswX6vwZOBj632QSRLvGrMJQKr_Y_Cubj3I9UtTc_vQ6cPJvOSUQUd5vqLhK1U/s320/CIMG2167.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">During my 6 or 7 weeks in Xela, I went on 3 different treks with group called Quetzaltrekkers. They are a NGO who lead a number of hiking and backpacking adventures in the mountains and volcanoes of Guatemala and Nicaragua. There guides are all volunteers, mostly gringos, who work for no pay. All contribution and donations go to a few local schools for underprivileged students. They are probably one of the best run NGO's I have ever seen, with all funds going to the local people and not to those that run the organization. Not only that, but their treks are by far the most affordable adventures I have been on. If you are in the area, I would recommend joining them for a trek or two if you have the time. Their website is: <span style="color: #3646da;">http://www.quetzaltrekkers.com/</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-uRRZF98zIlTz-Ed8zTUGSFwqwxnY6ElorYN8wOGwzAILHOiJfE-8xde1LYkaGP4cozq999-bJvZ2iuUa1MJgZVoAqMUN4hosNOm-r1UCZq0-3jlFKaFnujkrbkkwh9_n2PjgOHkR5Y/s1600/CIMG2316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-uRRZF98zIlTz-Ed8zTUGSFwqwxnY6ElorYN8wOGwzAILHOiJfE-8xde1LYkaGP4cozq999-bJvZ2iuUa1MJgZVoAqMUN4hosNOm-r1UCZq0-3jlFKaFnujkrbkkwh9_n2PjgOHkR5Y/s320/CIMG2316.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN"><span style="color: #3646da;"></span>The first trek, as previously mentioned, involved hiking about halfway up the southern slope of Volcan Santa Maria through the thick rainforest. We hiked for 3 or 4 hours until we reached out destination: a large, open mirador (viewpoint) that had been cleared of trees by the local cattle farmers. Never thought I'd see Holsteins grazing in the rainforest halfway up a volcano, but I did. In fact, these were probably the happiest cows I've seen in Guatemala. We set up camp on a number of semi-level steps in the slope. We were a bit short on tent space and I wanted to find my own place to sleep, so I Jerry-rigged a bivouac structure using my companions´ walking sticks. It actually turned out pretty cool, except that I was on a slope and slid down the hill will just the slightest movement. I squirm a lot to get comfortable, especially when sleeping on a 1.5cm foam mat. Every time I woke up that night, I had to crawl a foot or two back up onto my sleeping pad. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqk4Z5doiuyX4DqJ4F7Sw7eSomgkvJKWbCnOBZQzRFDuuiwKDdGCK86SV7pC7RtKUd4vLUbf1Qv_f0xifyaP0TqCvAXSJ_WT59TWfpRetuy-NZlBd9gYNYldnQyy-odgIHMWDwRqc5o1s/s1600/lavastream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqk4Z5doiuyX4DqJ4F7Sw7eSomgkvJKWbCnOBZQzRFDuuiwKDdGCK86SV7pC7RtKUd4vLUbf1Qv_f0xifyaP0TqCvAXSJ_WT59TWfpRetuy-NZlBd9gYNYldnQyy-odgIHMWDwRqc5o1s/s400/lavastream.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">The reason we were there was to watch Volcan Santiaguito erupt throughout the evening and night. Santiaguitio is one of the most active volcanoes in the world. A few years ago it used to erupt every 20 minutes or so, but now it only erupts every 1.5-2 hours. I was hoping for massive amounts of lava to spew into the atmosphere, but all you get during the day is a soft rumble then a large plume of smoke and ash is released from the crater. It wasn't what I had expected, but it was still pretty cool. With the eruptions being so infrequent and short-lived, someone would yell 'Eruption!' at the top of their lungs in the middle of the night when they were woken by the rumbling. I was fortunate because all I had to do was open my eyes and look to the right to watch the eruption from beneath my bivouac fly while everyone else had to scramble out of their tents. Most of the eruptions were nothing to write home about, but there was one really good one where a number of huge, orange, glowing, molten rocks were thrown from the crater. They proceeded to roll down the volcano, occasionally exploding as they collided with the mountainside. I felt like I was fortunate enough just to witness this. However, my Dutch friend Sanders (who was a guide for Quetzaltrekkers 5 years earlier), happened to catch the eruption and molten rockslide all in a single 20 or 30 second frame with his fancy digital camera. It is definitely a wicked cool picture. You can view it in my photo gallery if you'd like. I witnessed a few other eruptions, but they were few and far between. The following morning we packed up camp and made our way back to Xela. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAfaGfJ477xma0H4-bo46Ns2LLO3OsADJgj58NlUmZGeXmQBmctVgLoBiyBtPkO7u8S_tJEEVN40HvkWqCzabory6eEK1Xdy8ZBnq_cczcEvG7cPNQ9kXjthSuSd2PK6bjD9e6p-vYao/s1600/CIMG2130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAfaGfJ477xma0H4-bo46Ns2LLO3OsADJgj58NlUmZGeXmQBmctVgLoBiyBtPkO7u8S_tJEEVN40HvkWqCzabory6eEK1Xdy8ZBnq_cczcEvG7cPNQ9kXjthSuSd2PK6bjD9e6p-vYao/s200/CIMG2130.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ld3EtAVct2jiTvxzJ8AC5Qcam6N_qOU23nf39w-6hCtqUDRnyBi_Rk7XarmLTz5oA3JQmkLiFWDWNCGmOh44rqhb-O0TXBMbr19YtfGTsPTE6D7ekmJtMVyaY6VswV6gRGVRskX_7N0/s1600/santiaguito-crater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ld3EtAVct2jiTvxzJ8AC5Qcam6N_qOU23nf39w-6hCtqUDRnyBi_Rk7XarmLTz5oA3JQmkLiFWDWNCGmOh44rqhb-O0TXBMbr19YtfGTsPTE6D7ekmJtMVyaY6VswV6gRGVRskX_7N0/s320/santiaguito-crater.jpg" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-30904429583817308922011-03-10T18:45:00.000-08:002011-03-13T10:51:00.396-07:002) Lago Atitlán<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:HyphenationZone>21</w:HyphenationZone> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>ES</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> <w:UseFELayout/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">During the weekdays in Xela I dedicated myself to studying Spanish, trying to get the most out of my classes. However, the weekends were free and I found myself either relaxing at the lake or climbing volcanoes. Lake Atitlan is a high mountain lake surrounded by volcanoes. It is approximately 8km X 18km and averages about 300m deep. Atitlan, like most of the Highlands, is very rich in Mayan culture. It's a unique mix of people at the lake: local Mayans and Guatelmaltecos meets lots of Gringos and wealthy Guatemalans on vacation at the lake. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">My first lake experience was at San Pedro la Laguna. It's a small backpacker/hippy getaway at the base of Volcan San Pedro. I went with a group of Irish guys from the school whose sole intention in life right now is to get drunk. The most remarkable experience on this trip was the bus ride down to the lake. We were in a chicken bus. It was not as packed as it could be, but it was still full. We descended between 500m and 1000m down a very steep hillside with many hairpin turns that the bus could not make. Numerous times, the only thing separating us from tumbling off a steep cliff was the guard rail up against the front tire as the driver tried to maneuver his way through a 3 or 5 point turn around. A little nerve racking, but the view was nice. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">My second experience was much more relaxing. The previous weekend I had gone on an overnight trek halfway up the side of Volcan Santa Maria to watch Volcan Santiaguito erupt throughout the night. On said trek I met an American couple who is on quite the journey themselves: they are driving from Alaska to the southern tip of Argentina in a very round about fashion. They have everything they own in a Chevy truck with a custom made utility box on the back. I think they have been on the road for about 4 or 5 years now, I´m not sure. They only intended on staying in Mexico for 8 months, but 14 months later they finally moved on to Central America. Anyway, she is a journalist and he is a photographer. Every now and then, they receive an invitation to stay at a resort for 3 or more days for free. They, in return, post a review of the resort on their website. If you are interested, here is the website of their epic journey: </span><u><span lang="EN" style="color: #0a2fe6;">http://trans-americas.com/</span></u><span lang="EN"> This was a bit of a stroke of luck, but I bumped into them in the central park in Xela on a Thursday and they gave me an invite to come join them on one of their 'research/writing assignments'. The next day I found myself riding in a new Chevy pickup (a bit of culture shock after acclimating to the chicken bus experience) on the way to a lakeside resort near Panajachel, also known as 'Gringotenango'.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN">This lakeside resort has 4 or 5 bungalows for rent <span> </span>I use the term ‘bungalow’ here lightly). These ‘bungalows’ were immaculate resort houses with all the amenities and each has a spectacular view of the lake. The smallest one rents for $150 US a night while the largest costs only $400. We were given the middle of the road, the Bamboo bungalow, usually priced at $300 a night. All I can say is that it was a sweet place (and an even sweeter deal). I highly recommend them, that is, if you are going to be at the lake for a few days and you have a few grand to burn. Then again, I can think of much better things to do with a grand, like ‘gift’ it so some Columbian debit card thief, but I will touch on that a bit later. Check out this place’s website if you’re interested: </span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://www.panzaverde.com/balamya/en/index.html"><span style="color: blue;">http://www.panzaverde.com/balamya/en/index.html</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit;">The bungalow had an extra bed and bathroom downstairs, so I had my own space. I cannot say how happy I was to take a comfortable, hot shower again. It was the first time in over a month that I was warm during and after a shower. I pretty much spent my time relaxing in hammock, enjoying the beautiful view off my deck, or reading in a beach chair on the lake’s edge. The location was just perfect to watch the sun set behind the volcanoes, with a mirror image reflecting in the lake. It was a very pleasant, warm, and budget travel experience (I did have to pay for food). However, all good things must come to an end and three days later I found myself back on a chicken bus Xela bound. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span>By the way, I will try to get a few pics up of the lake soonish. Keep checking back. </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-66593758034118216972011-03-10T18:35:00.000-08:002011-03-13T10:50:00.176-07:001) Life in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala<span lang="EN">When I began brainstorming this epic adventure, my original intention was to head straight for Buenos Aires, Argentina where I could dance tango every night all night long, just as I have dreamed for the past few years. For those for those of you that don't know, I discovered the Argentine tango about 4 years ago in Bozeman, MT of all places, and ever since it has been a powerful passion and driving force in my life. Heck, it's one of the main reasons I moved to the Portland area after vet school. However, a friend mentioned to me that I would have a much better experience getting plugged into the tango scene in BsAs if was somewhat proficient in Spanish before I arrived. I thought that was a valid point. A few weeks later I learned that another friend in the tango community was headed for Xela, Guatemala for Spanish classes. After talking with her, I discovered that Xela has some of the best and cheapest Spanish schools in the world. I liked the sound of that because 'best' and 'cheapest' usually don't go together in the same sentence. Guatemala is a long way from BsAs, but it just made sense for me to start there. I still think about the tango often and am planning on working my way down to Argentina, but I am here in Central America so I might as well enjoy it! </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">So, I bought a one way ticket to Guatemala hoping to keep all future travel plans wide open. Sometime around the end of November I left my family and friends (which, by the way, was one of the hardest things I´ve ever done. I've said goodbye to many people in my life, but this time it was much harder to say goodbye to all those who mean so much to me. I know many of you will still be with me in spirit during my travels, but not knowing when I will return made it much more emotional for me). The day after I arrived in Guatemala City, a big, ugly, and somewhat dangerous city of too many millions of people, I hopped a bus to Quetzaltenango. Quetzaltenango, also known as 'Xela' (the 'x' is pronounced 'sh', so "shella") is a high mountain city (elev 2335m) of about 250,000-500,000 people, depending on who you ask. The city itself is nothing spectacular, but it is nestled up against some incredibly beautiful volcanoes. Like most of the Guatemalan highlands, there is a predominant presence of Mayan people and culture. There are something like 23 distinct Mayan languages and even more styles of Mayan dress, each noticeably different than the other. Many of the Mayan women sell beautiful textiles or other handmade products in the local markets. They seem like very kind and hard working people, but there is definitely a complex social class hierarchy. Generally speaking, it seems as if many of the Mayans find themselves in a lower social class, as observed in many indigenous populations across the world. Regardless, they are a very beautiful and colorful people. I have truly enjoyed observing the various styles of dress and gorgeous textiles. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQPsOyKKwAsWrXZAioQ5EqVzKhnmDNq3-pXE28Y0HXwJkWCcacPRuWll41aZypeBiLvmpGy6tWt8Kf3VHPnaf1unvbP0UDTxtJc1xSKHmwr704MuA9kNvgcorBQD4ktNfQh_MF1o58rJg/s1600/CIMG2068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQPsOyKKwAsWrXZAioQ5EqVzKhnmDNq3-pXE28Y0HXwJkWCcacPRuWll41aZypeBiLvmpGy6tWt8Kf3VHPnaf1unvbP0UDTxtJc1xSKHmwr704MuA9kNvgcorBQD4ktNfQh_MF1o58rJg/s320/CIMG2068.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN">When I think of Guatemala, I think subtropical to tropical, beaches, warmth (even hot), humidity, etc. Xela was anything but. The days were wonderful with the sun beating down and warming to temperatures of 60-70 degrees F, but the second the sun went down, it got ridiculously cold. Aside: when I travel, I carry a guidebook, but I only consult it if necessary. I tend to get the bulk of my information from other travelers. You could say that I travel by word of mouth. As a result, I often don't do my homework before arrival and this time I paid for it: I had 6 of the coldest weeks of my life. Almost all buildings in Guatemala are made from concrete and they have no heating system. As a result, they make excellent refrigerators. Everyday, I would wear long pants, long sleeves, and my fleece to class. On the really cold days I would put on long underwear, gloves, and a warm hat. I truly enjoyed my classes, but by the end of the class each day my fingers were so cold that it hurt to type even the shortest email. Then I would walk home in the 65 degree sunshine. It was quite unique, even paradoxical. Then, when the sun went down, the cold would return almost immediately. I spent many nights under 4 or 5 blankets trying to keep warm. I can honestly say that those were 6 of the coldest weeks of my life. Even though it gets 20 to 30 F below for a week or two back home, the houses are well insulated and they all have heating. But it's incredibly hard to stay warm when you live in the cold all day long. I am rambling. It was cold. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">After a bit of investigating, some advice from a friend, and a bit of luck, I chose to study at Utatlan Spanish School. <a href="http://www.xelapages.com/utatlan/">http://www.xelapages.com/utatlan/</a> The classes were amazing and the staff was great. I would highly recommend them to anyone interested in Spanish immersion classes. I paid $130 a week for 20 hours of one-on-one tutoring (4 hours a day Mon-Fri), this also included my home stay and all 3 meals 7 day a week- a pretty darn good deal I must say. It's incredibly difficult to try to survive on $600 a month in the States, so I count this the deal of the century. Since there are 23+ Spanish schools in Xela, there is a wide range of experience amongst instructors. I was fortunate because I placed a reservation before my arrival and I was matched with an amazing teacher. His name was (and still is) Mario. Super cool guy with many years of teaching experience. He only taught in Spanish, but he was able to translate many words I didn't know into English. He used the translator program on Google, which I found very helpful. But what I got a kick out of was how he would push the 'listen' button and a cheezy female computer voice would speak the English translation, then Mario would mimic the voice. This led to some great laughs. When the internet wasn't working, which was all too often in Xela, we would ask his brother, a fellow professor, what certain words meant. As a result, I called him Juan Google, but he didn't say the translations like the computerized gal did, which was quite disappointing. With his teaching experience and my somewhat natural knack to pick up a new language (which I was pleasantly surprised to learn this about myself), we covered all the `rules and regulations´ of the Spanish language in about 5 1/2 weeks, which I thought was pretty darn cool. I was by no means proficient after those weeks, but I now have another diploma saying I have graduated from the Utatlan Spanish School (and I said I would never go back to school...). He said he had nothing more to teach me, just that I needed to keep practicing on my own. I will admit that I have slacked a bit on my studies since entering the backpacker lifestyle, but I try to talk to the locals as much as possible, listen in on other people's conversations, read the newspaper, and watch the occasional movie in Spanish. The one thing I have neglected to do is write in Spanish on a regular basis, but I never did like writing anyway. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_rwhS2kYcmZCdjMq6yCtlwZXLBRWcgQ2R8a4MsEmPOnxitds8A7ZSM5CCC5J-wC0qkPC4NQyj2J4c5pqTruWUhUNDqbRiGezPGmckz7XIHgU4C-txFRqbCArJ4p-qu5yj2Pu_JWn_PA/s1600/CIMG2345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_rwhS2kYcmZCdjMq6yCtlwZXLBRWcgQ2R8a4MsEmPOnxitds8A7ZSM5CCC5J-wC0qkPC4NQyj2J4c5pqTruWUhUNDqbRiGezPGmckz7XIHgU4C-txFRqbCArJ4p-qu5yj2Pu_JWn_PA/s320/CIMG2345.JPG" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN">I must briefly put in a good word for my little friend, the dictionary. Before leaving the States, I bought the Franklin BES-2150 Merriam-Webster Spanish-English electronic pocket dictionary. Say that 10 times as fast as you can. Anyway, this little guy has been invaluable in my Spanish edumacation. Not only is it small enough to carry in your pocket, but it is much faster than the traditional dictionary. I suspect I can find 2-3 words in the time it would take me to flip through the pages of a book dictionary for just one word. It also has all the conjugations of each verb, an advanced English dictionary, long vocab lists, and even a bunch of 'fun' vocab games. It was a little pricy (over $100), but it was worth every penny as far as I am concerned. I would highly recommend it for anyone serious about learning a foreign language. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">I made a number of observations in Xela that I have found also apply to many other towns in Guatemala. Many streets are cobblestone and incredibly uneven. As a result, I suspect mechanics specializing in suspensions make a pretty penny, if pretty pennies can be made here. The sidewalks were very narrow and uneven as well. Most were made of a combination of cobblestone and 'cobblecrete' (the concrete version of cobblestone). Sometimes they even had a power pole placed directly in the middle of the sidewalk, requiring one to step into the busy street to pass by. Speaking of streets, the traffic can be described as organized chaos. When there are lines painted on the streets, they don't exactly mean a whole lot. From what I have observed, there are a number of unwritten traffic codes that everyone follows, but you must look out for number one when you are trying to cross the street. All that said, there are surprisingly few accidents here because most people drive aggressively yet defensively. I wouldn't be surprised if there are significantly more traffic accidents in the States, which makes the States a much more dangerous place to live (a side not for those of you are worried about my safety traveling solo down here). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">Chicken buses, on the other hand, are another experience. It seems as if most of the retired and unwanted Bluebird school bus from the States and Canada are shipped down here where they are mechanically refurbished in some form or another. The outsides are also repainted with creative, bright colors and often pimped out with chrome. The insides, however, remain the same old seats. What was a comfortable ride when I was in 6th grade is a bit more cramped with my long legs. Not only that, but they can pack more people into a bus than I thought humanly possible. In a full bus they jam 3 per seat and then have 2 people sitting in the aisle with one cheek on the seat and the other cheek supported by the other person in the aisle, kind of like the keystones of an arch. Of course, there is room between the pairs of 'keystoners' in the aisle, so they can squeak at least one more person (usually a mother with multiple children counts as one) between each of them. Assuming that a bus has 10 rows of seats (I haven't actually counted) and that all spare standing room is filled, the average chicken bus can hold upwards of 100 people, including small children. Add all the bags and miscellaneous items in the overhead racks as well as an insane amount of cargo tied down on the roof rack spanning the full length of the bus, and you have something that looks like the sleigh out of "When the Grinch stole Christmas". Then send this beast barreling down the mountain at uncomfortably high speeds on a poorly maintained and curvy highway and you have yourself a real chicken bus experience. It's actually kind of fun if: you are feeling a bit adventurous, the ride isn't too long, the diesel exhaust isn't blowing back into your window, you have a somewhat comfortable seat or spot on the floor, it's not too hot or too cold, the music's not so loud that your eardrums are bleeding, you don't have to pee like a racehorse, you are not sitting next to some one who hasn't bathed in weeks, you don't get anything stolen, you don’t have a solid case of traveler’s diearrhea (kind of an oxymoron, eh?), the bus doesn't go over a guardrail or get in an accident...you get the picture. Not the most comfortable way to travel, but it´s convenient and cheap. </span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxEs0g6nm9G19FSUVsELxMwDzMFsCz6Ib3iiHXRhUvWh6sxgE3temgEnTDtPnAyp-uofUChE6RW70Y02-n6bHqng5DTnPfTIyl-3vjJpC6dF4dKrpP2ymsmnWxPqVnRo1NTeDNGCzCL-8/s1600/CIMG2571.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxEs0g6nm9G19FSUVsELxMwDzMFsCz6Ib3iiHXRhUvWh6sxgE3temgEnTDtPnAyp-uofUChE6RW70Y02-n6bHqng5DTnPfTIyl-3vjJpC6dF4dKrpP2ymsmnWxPqVnRo1NTeDNGCzCL-8/s320/CIMG2571.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">The septic systems, if you can call them that, are not designed to handle toilet paper and other sanitary product. As a result, all paper waste must be delicately placed in a trash bin next to the toilet. One might call it a ‘poopy paper bucket of goodness’. The quality and cleanliness of these disposals varies as much as the toilets. It takes a bit of getting used to, but eventually it becomes second nature. Speaking of garbage, there’s garbage everywhere. Most towns/cities don’t have public trash cans, so it’s just common practice to throw your trash on the ground, regardless of where you are. I have visited some incredibly beautiful places that have been tainted, even ruined, by an overabundance of trash. The general population here has no concept of keeping the environment free of litter. The road sides are covered as people thoughtlessly throw their waste out of the cars and busses. In fact, just the other day I saw a 4-5 year old boy deliberately walk around his mother to throw his candy bar wrapper out the window of the minivan. I think they are trained at an early age that garbage is better left on the ground than in your pocket. The black sand beaches of the southern coast are gorgeous, minus the line of plastic bottles and other crap that has been washed up to the high water mark. Once, I almost stepped on a hypodermic needle and syringe while enjoying a peaceful stroll on the beach. Not cool. Most of the lakes and rivers are polluted with wrappers and bottles. Probably the most disappointing garbage experience was when I hiked Volcan Santa Maria. I will describe my amazing experience in a later blog, but after the sun rose I was stunned to see that the summit of the volcano was absolutely covered in rubbish. It was truly a disappointment after such a breath-taking experience. Enough of this garbage, let’s talk about cleanup.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">As far as street trash goes, a group of city employees usually comes by with brooms and wheel barrows once daily to sweep up the trash. What they haven’t figured out is that placing public trash cans around the city would greatly reduce the time and money needed to keep the place clean. Another illogical practice, at least in my mind, is their weekly garbage pick up. I only witnessed this in Xela, but the night before the garbage truck (which happens to look an awful lot like a colorful grain truck) comes everyone puts there bags of rubbish on at the street corner. A few guys on the ground throw the bags of trash to a guy in the back who stacks it to the point of overflowing. What gets me is that by the time the collection comes in the morning, the street dogs and drunk bums (charra) have ripped open all the bags searching for food. So, Team Trash has to clean up a mountain of trash strewn across every street corner. It doesn’t make sense to me, but that’s how they roll down here. They’ve got it all figured out, so I’m not gonna rock boat. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">Nothing is built to code because there is no code. I have seen some very creative and incredibly unsafe plumbing and electrical fixtures. I actually consider them more like works of art than anything. Almost all showers in Central America are heated by passing cold water through an electrically heated coil. It usually does the job, but it takes a bit of getting used to especially when there are wires shooting off from every direction from the shower head. I have even felt an occasional jolt pass through my body while taking a shower, kinda warms you from the inside out like a fine liquor or microwave. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLGKETrh0ScGsrXZq0NT3RgQ4_vKcZze7rez_MyCu4ie8Zqhq9NwrszDzn37YYxMIOLSWXiLScKimNakwrFeXssT5X86JJRhmGvyyVhffH8RQHrdItXW9cXfRwlgrzYgxFoMVoShkK3Q/s1600/CIMG2107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLGKETrh0ScGsrXZq0NT3RgQ4_vKcZze7rez_MyCu4ie8Zqhq9NwrszDzn37YYxMIOLSWXiLScKimNakwrFeXssT5X86JJRhmGvyyVhffH8RQHrdItXW9cXfRwlgrzYgxFoMVoShkK3Q/s400/CIMG2107.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span lang="EN">There is rarely silence in the streets here. Since there are no sound restrictions, so many store fronts place amplified speakers just outside on the sidewalk and blare the worst music they have on file. I have found much of the Latin pop music to be as annoying that of the States, but they take it to the next level. Imagine Lady Gaga with a high, nasally voice (more annoying than it already is) singing in Spanish to a reggaeton beat, and turn up your crappy amplified speakers so that the distortion can be heard clearly from 3-4 blocks away. Now try to focus on learning a foreign language when your friends across the street bust out their Latin Gaga mix without shame. After the sun sets, you would expect things to quiet down a bit, but the style and type of noise simply changes. Keep in mind that I always sleep with earplugs in, but often I have been woken by various sounds (this is by no means a complete list): dogs barking and/or fighting, car alarms, squealing tires, borrachos (drunks) singing/yelling/falling/making noise, firecrackers (they are bigger and much louder here, especially when amplified by the narrow streets. Firecrackers are also sold at many local stores all year long, so the little boys have plenty to keep themselves busy), music pounding from the nearby clubs, and roosters. I always thought that roosters crowed in the morning. What do I know? Apparently half of the Guatemalan rooster population crows between 8 and 11 pm nightly, so get used to it. As if it isn't hard enough to find some peace and quiet, evangelistic preachers scream their message on radios, TV's, and in person. They also blast their message and music onto the streets as loud as their amplifying equipment will allow from churches, meeting spaces, and in markets. I am not opposed to preaching or spiritual teaching, but I am opposed to headache-inducing fire and brimstone. You like apples, I like bananas, as well as my hearing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">I would like to take a moment to briefly whine about my home stay, just briefly though. The shower was ridiculously weak and cold (a warm shower is important when you live in a refrigerator: decreased core and ambient temperature + cold shower = shower aversion). Let's just say I'd maximize the time between showers as I felt necessary. Hey, it's hard to stink when you never sweat. Don't worry, I have been showering much more regularly since leaving the land of the cold. But it was nearly a month after I arrived in Guatemala before I was able to take a comfortable, hot shower. I also had trouble falling asleep some nights as the walls between rooms were makeshift wooden structures in which light and sound and smells, such as toxic fresh paint fumes, passed freely. The sad thing is that these wonderful people lived like this everyday, and they have it so much better than many of the poor villages I have visited. We are so ridiculously spoiled in the Western world. We are so used to so many conveniences that we (I) often have a hard time adjusting to the new situation. Even though all the basic needs are covered, we always want more. Heck, it took me weeks to get used to sleeping on an old, worn out bed after leaving my ultra comfortable bed back home. I have been softened, I am weak, I am spoiled. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">All that aside, my home stay was truly a great experience. The wonderful people and great food singlehandedly outweighed the frustrations. Gladys, the owner of the house, lived there with her son and his girlfriend. She also had a few extra rooms to rent, so there were anywhere from 4-6 people living there at any one time. I know Guatemala is not known for its exquisite cuisine, but in my mind Gladys is one of the best cooks here. As a result of the good food, the pleasure I take in eating good food, and the constant cold, I began to put on a few pounds. I think I have lost those pounds, though I don't know if it from surfing, the heat, tapeworms, or any combination of the above.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ85_Zj1xEVKksEbiN92HhsB3fGNQqtlbXU0RsEOgpbrZ5wIafV0VcHIDVvGajbdVZ5D6mNcpop1L9X8RBtCSb5wc9KCRw3KLZqLeaQ1Uk_5fl_aqRufaTO5X1nTEPYKNeXMQYOW3oxeM/s1600/CIMG2363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ85_Zj1xEVKksEbiN92HhsB3fGNQqtlbXU0RsEOgpbrZ5wIafV0VcHIDVvGajbdVZ5D6mNcpop1L9X8RBtCSb5wc9KCRw3KLZqLeaQ1Uk_5fl_aqRufaTO5X1nTEPYKNeXMQYOW3oxeM/s320/CIMG2363.JPG" width="240" /></a><span lang="EN">Gladys is one of the sweetest people I have ever met; so kind, caring, and gentle. Her profession is a Spanish instructor. She was not feeling well after sitting for 4 hours of class twice daily, so she went to the doctor to have some tests run. I am very sad to say that she was diagnosed with uterine cancer in the midst of my stay in Xela. The doctors said that it had progressed beyond surgical excision and she was not interested in chemo or radiation. However, she did find a naturopath who said he could help cure her. I don't quite know what concoction of minerals he prescribed, but she had to go in every other day for IV injections. I am concerned that the nurses and medical assistants here are poorly trained, at least the ones in Xela. She would come home everyday with bruises all over her arms. Apparently it would take 5-9 sticks before they could find a vein. They told her she had bad veins, but it turns out that they never put on a new needle. They were down right pathetic. After one of her worst experiences (I think it was the 9 attempt day), I asked her if she would like me to try. I told her I had never given and IV injection to a person, but if I can hit a cat's vein I thought I could hit one of hers. I was successful on the second attempt of the first two treatments, but each subsequent time I hit the vein on my first try, and I never caused a single bruise. By the end of her treatments, she was calling me her angel send by God. There is no question I developed a special place in her heart as she gained a place in mine. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">I have no doubt that I was meant to be there when I was, and it was truly a pleasure and an honor to help someone in need. As many of you know, I have a 'professional' degree, but my job at the small animal clinic was just not fulfilling a huge piece of my heart. One of the main reasons I left was to figure out what I am meant to do with my life. I have truly been blessed with a great education and some incredible opportunities, I just know deep down inside that I am meant to do more with these blessings. What does that looks like? I have no idea, but I hopeful that I will find at least some piece of the answer on this journey. I feel that this experience with Gladys was just a taste of what's to come. I am truly excited for the future, whatever that may look like. I may not find all the answers I am searching for, but I know it is going to be quite the journey- physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhvryFaoLOS4TleB4BCFwQZF1C7jwrhMXTLEvfk_ejmyP_9fdPhM3mWArOHR3M0Ayg-bdlAcBQh5MEvApmK8jWtfpcteKAsHhBuRoBH59CoDgd-hhEVEC_kwa6f4Hxk6pfRJHizp3D7Q/s1600/CIMG2087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhvryFaoLOS4TleB4BCFwQZF1C7jwrhMXTLEvfk_ejmyP_9fdPhM3mWArOHR3M0Ayg-bdlAcBQh5MEvApmK8jWtfpcteKAsHhBuRoBH59CoDgd-hhEVEC_kwa6f4Hxk6pfRJHizp3D7Q/s320/CIMG2087.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span lang="EN"> </span></div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-645095430430875223.post-47298815292650660762011-03-10T18:12:00.000-08:002011-03-13T11:13:24.047-07:00¡Bienvenidos a mi blog!<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGdnSUHBu5ZKqZw_er2mRoUnttylGtZkqd-f3zsF3E-r8Hv1LjHHbDxcUPqcT2CW2wt_fTLYQAkKb7xIBiG1LO1OHi9TCO-WzynF4ZJgZHc2pz9gc3xtRq2g6WhMOzXvIy2nHbNoqCz5o/s1600/CIMG2117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGdnSUHBu5ZKqZw_er2mRoUnttylGtZkqd-f3zsF3E-r8Hv1LjHHbDxcUPqcT2CW2wt_fTLYQAkKb7xIBiG1LO1OHi9TCO-WzynF4ZJgZHc2pz9gc3xtRq2g6WhMOzXvIy2nHbNoqCz5o/s320/CIMG2117.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><b><u><span lang="EN"></span></u></b><span lang="EN">Hola (that's Spanish for 'hello' for those of you who are wondering). Well, after 2 1/2 months in Guatemala and 2 weeks in Belize, I figure that it's about time I start sharing my adventures. I guess I'll get my lazy bum out of the hammock and begin typing. In all honesty, I have been having the time of my life on this trip and I just haven't felt like writing. I have already had some incredible experiences I will cherish for the rest of my life. I have breathtaking scenery, met wonderful (and some not so wonderful) people, eaten great food, and have even been on a few crazy adventures. I am not the best with words, but then again I can ramble on since I know that this literary work will not be graded. I will try to share the best of my experiences without boring ya'll too much. This first post will likely be the most uneventful as I have described some of my observations about daily life in Guatemala, but future blogs should get more exciting. Also, I understand that many of you do not have the time or desire to read epic blog entries every day or month, so I will try to be sufficient and succinct, wish me luck. I am writing this blog for my own benefit, so that I can reflect on all that I have seen and done on this trip. However, I am also writing with you, my audience in mind as well. I don´t know exactly what that means, but I hope you find it educational and entertaining. Even if you don't read the blog, you should at least browse through my photo albums. I am by no means an accomplished photographer, but somehow a few cool pictures have made there way onto my memory card. I will be uploading many of my pictures on my Flickr account. Here is the link to my album: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/svaniman/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/svaniman/</a></span><span lang="EN"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN">With all that said, where do I begin? Let's start at the beginning... </span></div>Shaun Vanimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04230251218377282782noreply@blogger.com0