Well, the day has arrived that we begin our silence. As of 5pm today we descend into the inner sanctum of our minds, hearts and spirits. I am both looking forward to it, and a tad nervous about it. I think I am far more nervous about what will happen when I emerge, as I have not yet set up housing . . . . and I´m not sure what I want to do yet. I trust that will sort itself out when it´s meant to.
Yesterday and today have been busy days of running around coordinating details - getting candles and other things we´ll need while we can still speak, and coordinating the sharing of teas and other things for the next 5 days. The silence will be complete . . . more or less. No active communication with others . . . verbally or written. The purpose is to go within and to connect with ourselves. Doing life as usual, but mute, defeats the purpose.
Of course, the no communication piece means I won´t be online either . . . so no updates and no email responses for the next week, but I promise to update the blog when I get out and my time is my own again.
The surprising exception around the silence, I learned this morning, is that it is considered acceptable to use our ipods when we feel the need for music that is more supportive and less detracting or distracting than the evangalistas. There was a good giggle in temple as we attempted to have a politically correct conversation about trying to be in silence in San Marcos . . . which my last entry clearly indicated, is NOT a silent kind of place. We were strongly encouraged, however, to use our discretion, and not to use the ipod to escape our experience . . . but rather to enhance it.
Suffice it to say, it will be an interesting week.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The Sounds of San Marcos
There is no way to describe the sounds of San Marcos, except with tongue firmly planted in cheek, and with a healthy sense of humour. I remember that I moved to Cortes Island originally because I wanted a quieter, slower life than the one I had in the big city. I didn´t realize how deeply I appreciated the profound quiet of Cortes until I came here.
In very rare moments, I can pause and hear just the sound of the trees or the crickets . . . or whatever small critters may be nearby, but truly those moments are rare.
I know I have alluded in previous entries to Guatemalans´ love for fireworks, firecrackers and other such noise makers. This affection can not be over-stated. I had hoped that with the passing of Christmas and New Years that this affection would go away, and while it has admittedly diminished in frequency . . . well, it seems this love springs eternal. Now instead of being ready for the loud bangs, I am genuinely scared off my chair when they come because I am unprepared. At least when they were happening constantly I was less startled by them, as I was in a mild state of readiness at any given moment to be assaulted by a huge bang in the sky.
Not to be left in the emptiness of silence for too long, however, this town ensures that we shall be entertained at almost all moments. At least twice a day we have, what I´ve come to know as, Evangalista Karaoke. It seems there are at least 2 primary churches here (though I sometimes think there is a third in the mix), and they are competing with all their little hearts to save the souls of this town. And so, they share the off-key, but earnest warmth of their devotion through loud speakers atop the roofs of their churches. Because no day should start without the word of god, you can be assured that the lovely lady with the seriously flat, but very enthusiastic voice will wake you up by 7:30 with her songs of devotion from the church in the town square. Around 5:30, the nice man, with only slightly better pitch, will share his words of wisdom and devotion to ensure we make it through the evening. Sometimes we are lucky to have a little extra support mid-afternoon, and Sundays, for sure, are my favourite. They share their devotion in the morning simultaneously - one off-key voice competing across the town with the other. God save ALL our souls. It has been suggested by some that the broadcast is as much to counter the woo-woo energy of all us meditating heathens in the gringo part of town as it is to compete with each other. Regardless, I am certain that I shall never forget (nor will I miss) this particular form of Karaoke. In fact, much as I love karaoke, I don´t think it will ever really be the same.
Now, in case this isn´t sufficient to keep you entertained, we also have a local chorus. The chorus is made up of the community of local dogs that roam the Pueblo. They get together to sing at various points during the day, but in particular, they like to do rousing renditions at about 11pm. Well over a dozen of them, I´m sure, sometimes all together, sometimes, like the evangalistas, they compete in packs across the top of town, barking profound messages at each other.
One of my favourite sound sets are the local birds. There is one bird in particular that sounds like a kitten mewling. For days I was convinced there was a poor abandoned kitten, possibly being beaten, somewhere near the Pyramid temple. As it turns out, it is the cry of one of the local birds, but it never fails to cause me to wonder. Unfortunately, the other bird calls, one of which I really like, are impossible for me to try and describe. Suffice it to say that, among the cacophony of noises here in San Marcos, I thoroughly enjoy the various bird calls.
This brings me to the last of my intended account of the ´sounds´ of San Marcos: the Avocados. At home I would never have considered these delectable fruits as noise-makers, but here they definitively are. They fall from the trees at random, landing on the tin roofs like cannon-blasts. I have been startled awake a few times by these little bombs. The night of the big quakes in Haiti, we had a small ripple here. I was startled awake by the feel of my pyramid shaking in the middle of the night. Given my previous traumas with falling fruit, I thought at first it was just a really big avocado (remember I was pretty sleepy). In the morning a fellow pyramider let me know what had happened which made far more sense to my awake brain. Fortunately, we have had no more such shakes, rattles or rolls. I do occasionally find, however, a kitten on my pyramid, scratching it´s way to the roof. Not quite the same impact, thankfully.
In very rare moments, I can pause and hear just the sound of the trees or the crickets . . . or whatever small critters may be nearby, but truly those moments are rare.
I know I have alluded in previous entries to Guatemalans´ love for fireworks, firecrackers and other such noise makers. This affection can not be over-stated. I had hoped that with the passing of Christmas and New Years that this affection would go away, and while it has admittedly diminished in frequency . . . well, it seems this love springs eternal. Now instead of being ready for the loud bangs, I am genuinely scared off my chair when they come because I am unprepared. At least when they were happening constantly I was less startled by them, as I was in a mild state of readiness at any given moment to be assaulted by a huge bang in the sky.
Not to be left in the emptiness of silence for too long, however, this town ensures that we shall be entertained at almost all moments. At least twice a day we have, what I´ve come to know as, Evangalista Karaoke. It seems there are at least 2 primary churches here (though I sometimes think there is a third in the mix), and they are competing with all their little hearts to save the souls of this town. And so, they share the off-key, but earnest warmth of their devotion through loud speakers atop the roofs of their churches. Because no day should start without the word of god, you can be assured that the lovely lady with the seriously flat, but very enthusiastic voice will wake you up by 7:30 with her songs of devotion from the church in the town square. Around 5:30, the nice man, with only slightly better pitch, will share his words of wisdom and devotion to ensure we make it through the evening. Sometimes we are lucky to have a little extra support mid-afternoon, and Sundays, for sure, are my favourite. They share their devotion in the morning simultaneously - one off-key voice competing across the town with the other. God save ALL our souls. It has been suggested by some that the broadcast is as much to counter the woo-woo energy of all us meditating heathens in the gringo part of town as it is to compete with each other. Regardless, I am certain that I shall never forget (nor will I miss) this particular form of Karaoke. In fact, much as I love karaoke, I don´t think it will ever really be the same.
Now, in case this isn´t sufficient to keep you entertained, we also have a local chorus. The chorus is made up of the community of local dogs that roam the Pueblo. They get together to sing at various points during the day, but in particular, they like to do rousing renditions at about 11pm. Well over a dozen of them, I´m sure, sometimes all together, sometimes, like the evangalistas, they compete in packs across the top of town, barking profound messages at each other.
One of my favourite sound sets are the local birds. There is one bird in particular that sounds like a kitten mewling. For days I was convinced there was a poor abandoned kitten, possibly being beaten, somewhere near the Pyramid temple. As it turns out, it is the cry of one of the local birds, but it never fails to cause me to wonder. Unfortunately, the other bird calls, one of which I really like, are impossible for me to try and describe. Suffice it to say that, among the cacophony of noises here in San Marcos, I thoroughly enjoy the various bird calls.
This brings me to the last of my intended account of the ´sounds´ of San Marcos: the Avocados. At home I would never have considered these delectable fruits as noise-makers, but here they definitively are. They fall from the trees at random, landing on the tin roofs like cannon-blasts. I have been startled awake a few times by these little bombs. The night of the big quakes in Haiti, we had a small ripple here. I was startled awake by the feel of my pyramid shaking in the middle of the night. Given my previous traumas with falling fruit, I thought at first it was just a really big avocado (remember I was pretty sleepy). In the morning a fellow pyramider let me know what had happened which made far more sense to my awake brain. Fortunately, we have had no more such shakes, rattles or rolls. I do occasionally find, however, a kitten on my pyramid, scratching it´s way to the roof. Not quite the same impact, thankfully.
Las Piramides, Moon Course
I am mid-way through the one-month moon course at Las Piramides del Ka, The Pyramids of the Spirit. It is a spiritual retreat centre, led by a most amazing, beautiful, powerful woman, Chatty and her support team. The Pyramids are her centre and her calling, and she is the primary teacher. The office is run by one of her daughters, Paoli, as beautiful as her mother, and a local Mayan woman. Yoga classes and meditation on weekends are offered by Marcus and Kathy, long-ago graduates and followers of the path.
I´m not sure yet how to describe ´the path´although I think that´s really what we´re learning this week. The basic schedule remains constant, (7am yoga, 10 am metaphysics and 5pm meditation), but the focus of the classes changes each week. Whatever the focus, each session begins with about 30 minutes sitting meditation. These periods of stillness and silence have turned out to be my greatest challenge and my greatest teacher . . . though I often wonder if I´m a little bit learning disabled when it comes to understanding the teachings. :-)
The first week was about understanding the symbolism of the pyramids and all the ´stuff´within them. As a long-time Pagan, the first week was hardly new material, but it came from a different perspective with a slightly different intention. Yoga and meditation were unquestionably the most challenging part of that week for me. I reconnected in a deeply uncomfortable and humbling way with how firmly rooted I had become in the computer and the couch during my 2 months in Vancouver, preceding my departure. My months of hooping, swimming and dancing on Cortes prior to that seem to have been forgotten by my body. sigh. Fortunately, in week 3 I am finding far more joy and ease, and far less pain, in both yoga and meditation.
The second week was about astral traveling and lucid dreaming. Based in the chakra system and an understanding (and acceptance) of multiple dimensions, it pushed my personal envelope (my inner mystic at war with my inner skeptic). This week, the third week is about our purpose / mission for this lifetime and is being explored through the Tree of Life and its 7 disciplines, including Tarot, Kabbalah, Astrology and Numerology. If nothing else, my curiosity this week is in full gear, as I have always been fascinated by these tools.
The last phase of the one-month program is 5 days of silence and fasting, starting next Monday. I´m both looking forward to it, and nervous about it. Although my days have been full, in between classes, with visiting healers, exploring the area and scooting across the lake for supplies, it has already been quite an introspective journey. Sitting meditation continues to be challenging for me, although I have now had enough experiences of true inner quiet and peace that I am motivated to continue. It will be interesting to see what just under a week of silence brings.
I´m not sure yet how to describe ´the path´although I think that´s really what we´re learning this week. The basic schedule remains constant, (7am yoga, 10 am metaphysics and 5pm meditation), but the focus of the classes changes each week. Whatever the focus, each session begins with about 30 minutes sitting meditation. These periods of stillness and silence have turned out to be my greatest challenge and my greatest teacher . . . though I often wonder if I´m a little bit learning disabled when it comes to understanding the teachings. :-)
The first week was about understanding the symbolism of the pyramids and all the ´stuff´within them. As a long-time Pagan, the first week was hardly new material, but it came from a different perspective with a slightly different intention. Yoga and meditation were unquestionably the most challenging part of that week for me. I reconnected in a deeply uncomfortable and humbling way with how firmly rooted I had become in the computer and the couch during my 2 months in Vancouver, preceding my departure. My months of hooping, swimming and dancing on Cortes prior to that seem to have been forgotten by my body. sigh. Fortunately, in week 3 I am finding far more joy and ease, and far less pain, in both yoga and meditation.
The second week was about astral traveling and lucid dreaming. Based in the chakra system and an understanding (and acceptance) of multiple dimensions, it pushed my personal envelope (my inner mystic at war with my inner skeptic). This week, the third week is about our purpose / mission for this lifetime and is being explored through the Tree of Life and its 7 disciplines, including Tarot, Kabbalah, Astrology and Numerology. If nothing else, my curiosity this week is in full gear, as I have always been fascinated by these tools.
The last phase of the one-month program is 5 days of silence and fasting, starting next Monday. I´m both looking forward to it, and nervous about it. Although my days have been full, in between classes, with visiting healers, exploring the area and scooting across the lake for supplies, it has already been quite an introspective journey. Sitting meditation continues to be challenging for me, although I have now had enough experiences of true inner quiet and peace that I am motivated to continue. It will be interesting to see what just under a week of silence brings.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
The journey to and from Panajachel
One of the realities of living in San Marcos is that there are no banks or bank machines here. There is also limited shopping. Things here are generally more expensive than anywhere else on the lake - from the hotels to the food; and there are many things you just can´t find. With San Pedro and Panajachel just across the lake, it´s not generally a big deal . . . one just heads for the dock, and waits the next launch to wherever they feel like going.
I have re-discovered how much I LOVE being out on the water . . .. feeling the wind, and occasionally the spray of the lake, in my hair and face. My friend Barbara reflected, the first time we crossed together to Pana that I was just glowing.
There are a few things one needs to know about traversing the lake. Launches run in most directions about every 20 minutes, more or less. The schedule varies, however, based on a number of factors: the weather, the day of the week, the mood of the drivers, the amount of traffic . . . etc., etc., etc. This is true also, of the price. There seems to be a three-tiered price structure. One price for Guatemalan / Mayan locals of the lake, a slightly higher price for foreigners who have become recognizable residents, and a third, higher, price for tourists. One must be on their toes not to get price level 4 - "look - a sucker!!" pricing.
From San Marcos, San Pedro is the nearest lake town and is about 10 minutes away by launch (all things being equal). The trip to Pana is about 25 minutes or so in ideal conditions. Both have bank machines and shopping. Pana has far more shopping, and less scary rumours about the bank machines and likelihood of having your card and account frauded by their use.
San Pedro is close enough that returning is fairly straight-forward. There are only a couple of little docks hidden between San Pedro & San Marcos. Panajachel is an entirely different matter, which Barbara and I discovered on our first trip over.
First off, arriving in Pana is an experience. All of the docks around the lake are more than a few years old, and have that slightly unstable feeling. The pathway from the dock to top of the hill in Pana is a whole other experience. Because there is some kind of sewage system running between where the dock is and the top of the hill, there is a ´bridge´ (i use this term loosely) that runs up the hill, which you must traverse in order to get to town. This ´bridge´is constructed much like the docks, but is in sadder shape than any dock I´ve been on so far. Several of the boards have a level of bounce that is more than a little unnerving, and there are holes and boards with a bit of a shift in them. I find myself praying deeply each time I must traverse it, while focusing my footsteps on the section of the boards that meet their supporting cross-beams. I am wide-eyed amazed that despite its decrepit appearance, locals run up and down it with gallons of water, bags, boxes and packages of immense weight and size, and none of them seem the least bit concerned about the likelihood of going through. I think I´ll continue my prayer practice however.
Pana itself is a bustling lake-side town, with an endless market up the main street, around corners . . . . it seems to go forever. The colours and smells are amazing, and the vendors range from blasé to down-right pushy. Some of the most persistent are the children, who will include the guilt-inducing approach of imploring "5Q? So I can eat tonight??" It´s hard to know how much is truth, and how much is an effective sales tactic. (Yes, I bought one of that kid´s little purses that he was selling.) On Sundays or Tuesdays . . . or something, there is another arts market, which I haven´t yet gone to. I have, however, been to the produce market and to the little super-market near the bank where I found, much to my glee, gluten-free pasta, rice paper wraps and a bunch of other wonderful food treats for the digestively challenged like myself.
The thing about crossing the lake to get money, groceries, clothing . . . or whatever, however, . . . is that wherever you choose to go, eventually you have to come back. And so it is with Pana, that after an afternoon of shopping . . .. one must return, crossing that scary bridge again, and traipse down to the dock, in search of a launch back to San Marcos. This is where the trip really gets interesting. Because, unlike the 20 or 25 minute trip TO Pana . . . the trip back turns out to be just a bit longer. Sometimes, almost an hour longer, actually.
Because you can´t possibly leave Pana with a launch that is less than full. And I don´t mean, it´s got all the seats filled. I mean FULL. As in, all the benches crammed 4 people across, the front of the launch filled with people, animals, fruit, vegetables, boxes, bags, jugs of water and/or propane, luggage on the roof . . . . folks crammed around the driver at the back. FULL. And of course, although there may have been 2 or 3 stops getting to Pana, on the way back you can be sure there will be at least 7, or 10, or more. The launch will stop at every small town, podunk, private dock, and even at the edge of the beach if they are waved down. This is rush hour on Lago Atitlan.
And of course, with that many people and that much stuff, the launch can´t go as fast as when it´s more lightly loaded. In fact, if you´re sitting near the front, you really hope it doesn´t . . . as when the driver gets over-enthusiastic, you end up like I did: soaked . . . from head to toe, right through to my underwear. Yup, that was me, feeling a deep connection with the lake. We hit a wave, and with the weight and speed of the launch, that little wave became a big one, right over the front of the boat and all down my front. When I got off that launch-ride I literally had to wring out the jacket I was wearing.
I´m not sure what I learned from the experience . . . as I still sit at the front . . . but it sure made for a great story! Mind you, I do make sure to allow myself more time for coming home now, so I don´t miss meditation.
I have re-discovered how much I LOVE being out on the water . . .. feeling the wind, and occasionally the spray of the lake, in my hair and face. My friend Barbara reflected, the first time we crossed together to Pana that I was just glowing.
There are a few things one needs to know about traversing the lake. Launches run in most directions about every 20 minutes, more or less. The schedule varies, however, based on a number of factors: the weather, the day of the week, the mood of the drivers, the amount of traffic . . . etc., etc., etc. This is true also, of the price. There seems to be a three-tiered price structure. One price for Guatemalan / Mayan locals of the lake, a slightly higher price for foreigners who have become recognizable residents, and a third, higher, price for tourists. One must be on their toes not to get price level 4 - "look - a sucker!!" pricing.
From San Marcos, San Pedro is the nearest lake town and is about 10 minutes away by launch (all things being equal). The trip to Pana is about 25 minutes or so in ideal conditions. Both have bank machines and shopping. Pana has far more shopping, and less scary rumours about the bank machines and likelihood of having your card and account frauded by their use.
San Pedro is close enough that returning is fairly straight-forward. There are only a couple of little docks hidden between San Pedro & San Marcos. Panajachel is an entirely different matter, which Barbara and I discovered on our first trip over.
First off, arriving in Pana is an experience. All of the docks around the lake are more than a few years old, and have that slightly unstable feeling. The pathway from the dock to top of the hill in Pana is a whole other experience. Because there is some kind of sewage system running between where the dock is and the top of the hill, there is a ´bridge´ (i use this term loosely) that runs up the hill, which you must traverse in order to get to town. This ´bridge´is constructed much like the docks, but is in sadder shape than any dock I´ve been on so far. Several of the boards have a level of bounce that is more than a little unnerving, and there are holes and boards with a bit of a shift in them. I find myself praying deeply each time I must traverse it, while focusing my footsteps on the section of the boards that meet their supporting cross-beams. I am wide-eyed amazed that despite its decrepit appearance, locals run up and down it with gallons of water, bags, boxes and packages of immense weight and size, and none of them seem the least bit concerned about the likelihood of going through. I think I´ll continue my prayer practice however.
Pana itself is a bustling lake-side town, with an endless market up the main street, around corners . . . . it seems to go forever. The colours and smells are amazing, and the vendors range from blasé to down-right pushy. Some of the most persistent are the children, who will include the guilt-inducing approach of imploring "5Q? So I can eat tonight??" It´s hard to know how much is truth, and how much is an effective sales tactic. (Yes, I bought one of that kid´s little purses that he was selling.) On Sundays or Tuesdays . . . or something, there is another arts market, which I haven´t yet gone to. I have, however, been to the produce market and to the little super-market near the bank where I found, much to my glee, gluten-free pasta, rice paper wraps and a bunch of other wonderful food treats for the digestively challenged like myself.
The thing about crossing the lake to get money, groceries, clothing . . . or whatever, however, . . . is that wherever you choose to go, eventually you have to come back. And so it is with Pana, that after an afternoon of shopping . . .. one must return, crossing that scary bridge again, and traipse down to the dock, in search of a launch back to San Marcos. This is where the trip really gets interesting. Because, unlike the 20 or 25 minute trip TO Pana . . . the trip back turns out to be just a bit longer. Sometimes, almost an hour longer, actually.
Because you can´t possibly leave Pana with a launch that is less than full. And I don´t mean, it´s got all the seats filled. I mean FULL. As in, all the benches crammed 4 people across, the front of the launch filled with people, animals, fruit, vegetables, boxes, bags, jugs of water and/or propane, luggage on the roof . . . . folks crammed around the driver at the back. FULL. And of course, although there may have been 2 or 3 stops getting to Pana, on the way back you can be sure there will be at least 7, or 10, or more. The launch will stop at every small town, podunk, private dock, and even at the edge of the beach if they are waved down. This is rush hour on Lago Atitlan.
And of course, with that many people and that much stuff, the launch can´t go as fast as when it´s more lightly loaded. In fact, if you´re sitting near the front, you really hope it doesn´t . . . as when the driver gets over-enthusiastic, you end up like I did: soaked . . . from head to toe, right through to my underwear. Yup, that was me, feeling a deep connection with the lake. We hit a wave, and with the weight and speed of the launch, that little wave became a big one, right over the front of the boat and all down my front. When I got off that launch-ride I literally had to wring out the jacket I was wearing.
I´m not sure what I learned from the experience . . . as I still sit at the front . . . but it sure made for a great story! Mind you, I do make sure to allow myself more time for coming home now, so I don´t miss meditation.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Settling in to San Marcos, the Pyramids, and life here
I am losing track of the days here. Each one is so full, and finding time to come to the net cafe is a continual challenge.
I have been back-dating entries as I put them in, so as to align the stories with the dates they happened on. (Hence the Jan 2 entry, actually added on Jan. 9) As I settle in to day-to-day life in the same place, I´m not sure if that´s so important anymore. We´ll see.
Life at Las Piramides is settling into a routine of sorts, although each day has its own distinctions. The Moon course itself provides the basic structure: Yoga at 7am, Metaphysics at 10:15am and Meditation at 5pm. Each session is about 90 minutes or so, leaving the remainder of the day to my discretion.
I´ve made three trips so far back into Panajachel to go to the bank machine, and to shop a little. Yesterday was the big grocery day, having finally found the supermarket my friends had raved about. I was very excited to find gluten-free pasta, quinoa, coconut milk and other such goodies. I am very much enjoying cooking my own food in the communal kitchen. I am reminded of how profoundly I am comforted by nesting, cooking and feeding others. (No one will be surprised to know that I continually make too much food and then find folks to share it with.)
I´ve also finally got my little pyramid set up with a colourful blanket, hand-woven rug and scarves draped over the surfaces. Candles, incense and some good old-fashioned elbow grease & bleach have helped solve the mold problem in the room.
Perhaps my next few entries will highlight little pieces of life here . . . as trying to fit it all in one entry will make it way too long.
Now, I must run to a Medicinal Plants course . . . .
I have been back-dating entries as I put them in, so as to align the stories with the dates they happened on. (Hence the Jan 2 entry, actually added on Jan. 9) As I settle in to day-to-day life in the same place, I´m not sure if that´s so important anymore. We´ll see.
Life at Las Piramides is settling into a routine of sorts, although each day has its own distinctions. The Moon course itself provides the basic structure: Yoga at 7am, Metaphysics at 10:15am and Meditation at 5pm. Each session is about 90 minutes or so, leaving the remainder of the day to my discretion.
I´ve made three trips so far back into Panajachel to go to the bank machine, and to shop a little. Yesterday was the big grocery day, having finally found the supermarket my friends had raved about. I was very excited to find gluten-free pasta, quinoa, coconut milk and other such goodies. I am very much enjoying cooking my own food in the communal kitchen. I am reminded of how profoundly I am comforted by nesting, cooking and feeding others. (No one will be surprised to know that I continually make too much food and then find folks to share it with.)
I´ve also finally got my little pyramid set up with a colourful blanket, hand-woven rug and scarves draped over the surfaces. Candles, incense and some good old-fashioned elbow grease & bleach have helped solve the mold problem in the room.
Perhaps my next few entries will highlight little pieces of life here . . . as trying to fit it all in one entry will make it way too long.
Now, I must run to a Medicinal Plants course . . . .
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Starting the Year in San Marcos at Las Piramides
So, it´s an interesting start to the New Year.
After a full New Year´s eve, the new year has emerged with a bit of a thump. I woke up feeling icky, and it has just gotten worse over the day. I have continued to struggles with the question of whether to go to Santiago for the big festival over there, or just settle in to San Marcos, and start the Moon course at the beginning with everyone else. My body ultimately made the decision for me. As predicted, North American flora has finally gone into combat with Central American flora in my belly. I am down for the count, at least for a little while.
The other deciding factor was my exploration at the Las Piramides in the morning, where I ran into a friend and fellow Cortesian. I knew she would be there for the course, but I didn´t expect to burst into tears upon seeing her. So, clearly, this is where I need to be.
My body demanded that I return to La Paz for an afternoon nap, after which I gathered my stuff and moved over to the pyramids. Once settled into my pyramid (all the ´rooms´are pyramids), I crashed again. As it turns out, I missed the first two meditations and first yoga class, but I made it to the first metaphysics class . . . so all is well.
And again, experiencing much gratitude for my friend from home. Especially when feeling so rough, it has been such a comfort to have her here.
After a full New Year´s eve, the new year has emerged with a bit of a thump. I woke up feeling icky, and it has just gotten worse over the day. I have continued to struggles with the question of whether to go to Santiago for the big festival over there, or just settle in to San Marcos, and start the Moon course at the beginning with everyone else. My body ultimately made the decision for me. As predicted, North American flora has finally gone into combat with Central American flora in my belly. I am down for the count, at least for a little while.
The other deciding factor was my exploration at the Las Piramides in the morning, where I ran into a friend and fellow Cortesian. I knew she would be there for the course, but I didn´t expect to burst into tears upon seeing her. So, clearly, this is where I need to be.
My body demanded that I return to La Paz for an afternoon nap, after which I gathered my stuff and moved over to the pyramids. Once settled into my pyramid (all the ´rooms´are pyramids), I crashed again. As it turns out, I missed the first two meditations and first yoga class, but I made it to the first metaphysics class . . . so all is well.
And again, experiencing much gratitude for my friend from home. Especially when feeling so rough, it has been such a comfort to have her here.
Friday, January 1, 2010
New Year´s in San Marcos
My first full day in San Marcos was an interesting one. I LOVE La Paz, the hotel /hostel I stayed at last night, but I didn´t sleep worth beans. I´m not sure if it was the hard dorm bed, the COLD night (I shivered under 4 blankets) or the constant noise. Apparently New Year´s partying starts here a full night ahead. Wow.
So I woke up grumpy and indecisive. I have learned that my decision making abilities when I am over-tired or not feeling well are exceptionally poor and I am very prone to emotional distress. This day was no exception. I was supposed to meet my friend Guyta at 2pm and I needed to make hotel arrangements for us for the night. I had stopped at Hotel Aaculaax when I first arrived yesterday, and had a tentative reservation for tonight, but there was that indecision thing.
Guyta and I had discussed where we wanted to spend New Years I still wasn´t certain what we were doing. Were we staying in San Marcos and going to the Full Moon ritual at Las Piramides, or were we grabbing our gear and heading over to Santiago, across the lake for the"Universal Dance" being put on by Project Nuevo Mundo. The Dance / festival looked amazing, but I admit I was daunted by the idea of heading over there, unsure of where I´d be sleeping, with no reservation. Other travelers have assured me there is no reason to worry - it´s all a trust journey anyway . . . but between my status as a newbie traveler and the still daunting amount of crap I´m carrying . . . . let´s say I was hesitant. Not to mention I couldn´t reach my friend and didn´t want to make the wrong decision on her behalf.
So, finally I headed over to Aaculaax to confirm our reservation, only to find out I was 10 minutes too late, and it had been given away. I headed back towards my hotel . . . having left there just after the last bungalow was claimed by someone else, and stopped en route to have a good cry. I was fully aware that my reaction was overly intense, but I do believe home-sickness was setting in, I was feeling tired and crappy, and I didn´t know where my friend and I were going to sleep. sigh.
Fortunately, before I fell too deeply into the deep well of self-pity, one of my new friends from La Paz came across me, grabbed me by the arm and led me to another hotel where I was able to secure a passable room. After that we returned to La Paz, and lo and behold, the bungalow had opened back up . . . and I took it. I was even able to get my deposit from the other place back. A nap was definitely in order . . .but apparently not to be had, as our room wasn´t ready. My psyche, however, was already much improved by the security of a lovely room, in a place I liked, with the promise of HOT water for my shower. Phew.
I was able to meet Guyta, show here where we were staying and then finally get my nap while she wandered the little town. Before long, we determined we were both content to stay here for New Years and, in fact, Guyta was highly inspired to facilitate a women´s circle down by the lake. We spent the early evening wandering for the perfect site, gathering wood and then we found a nice place for dinner.
After dinner we returned to La Paz and unexpectedly discovered that our little group of 2 or 3 women had grown to 6, and off we went to the beach. It appeared the little scamps who had offered to ´help´us earlier to gather wood (for a price, of course) had disappeared with our stash. Of course, it could´ve been someone else, but my bet´s on those boys. Fortunately, many hands makes light work and we had all grabbed an armful of wood on our way down, so we had what we needed.
After a beautiful circle under the full moon, we headed up to Las Piramedes, where some of the men from La Paz ended up meeting us and we attended the full moon ritual there also. It was beautiful. It helped reinforce my decision to attend the moon course. Perhaps my only disappointment, as we ´Om´ed in the New Year was that I could hear the incredible fireworks in the sky, and caught little flashes of green and red, but I didn´t get to see them. As I´ve said before, Guatemalans love their fireworks, and based on the duration of the noise, I would say this was a spectacular show. Oh well . . .can´t have it all!
Of course, New Years remained incomplete without some good partying, and as we returned to La Paz, the bar ´Ganesh´right outside the gate was in full swing. So we went inside to grab water, money, etc. . . and my hoops, of course, and headed back out. Before we defaulted to the closest party, my friends wanted to see what else was happening around town, so we took a wander. We walked up the ´village´where the locals live and hang out, and there was a fully attended service happening in the church - at 1AM!! Across the square a Marimba band was playing at full ear-blasting volume. We wandered up to check it out, but I couldn´t get all that close as it just hurt my ears. Finally, we headed down to the lake to check out a couple of other potential party spots, but it turned out Ganesh, where we started was really the only hot-spot in town. So we finally settled there for about a half hour/ 45 minutes of hooping and dancing, before I finally had to head for bed.
As it turns out, the party went until dawn (not much sound barrier where I was, right next door, but I think I got a pretty good few hours sleep before the morning evangelical prayers started over the town-wide loudspeaker. Did I mention that Guatemala is LOUD?? I thought it was just the firecrackers . . . but it´s really not. It´s just LOUD here. If it´s not firecrackers, it´s evangelicals, or dogs barking . . . or music . . . or whatever . . . but there´s always something. Wow.
Happy New Year´s Everyone!!!
So I woke up grumpy and indecisive. I have learned that my decision making abilities when I am over-tired or not feeling well are exceptionally poor and I am very prone to emotional distress. This day was no exception. I was supposed to meet my friend Guyta at 2pm and I needed to make hotel arrangements for us for the night. I had stopped at Hotel Aaculaax when I first arrived yesterday, and had a tentative reservation for tonight, but there was that indecision thing.
Guyta and I had discussed where we wanted to spend New Years I still wasn´t certain what we were doing. Were we staying in San Marcos and going to the Full Moon ritual at Las Piramides, or were we grabbing our gear and heading over to Santiago, across the lake for the"Universal Dance" being put on by Project Nuevo Mundo. The Dance / festival looked amazing, but I admit I was daunted by the idea of heading over there, unsure of where I´d be sleeping, with no reservation. Other travelers have assured me there is no reason to worry - it´s all a trust journey anyway . . . but between my status as a newbie traveler and the still daunting amount of crap I´m carrying . . . . let´s say I was hesitant. Not to mention I couldn´t reach my friend and didn´t want to make the wrong decision on her behalf.
So, finally I headed over to Aaculaax to confirm our reservation, only to find out I was 10 minutes too late, and it had been given away. I headed back towards my hotel . . . having left there just after the last bungalow was claimed by someone else, and stopped en route to have a good cry. I was fully aware that my reaction was overly intense, but I do believe home-sickness was setting in, I was feeling tired and crappy, and I didn´t know where my friend and I were going to sleep. sigh.
Fortunately, before I fell too deeply into the deep well of self-pity, one of my new friends from La Paz came across me, grabbed me by the arm and led me to another hotel where I was able to secure a passable room. After that we returned to La Paz, and lo and behold, the bungalow had opened back up . . . and I took it. I was even able to get my deposit from the other place back. A nap was definitely in order . . .but apparently not to be had, as our room wasn´t ready. My psyche, however, was already much improved by the security of a lovely room, in a place I liked, with the promise of HOT water for my shower. Phew.
I was able to meet Guyta, show here where we were staying and then finally get my nap while she wandered the little town. Before long, we determined we were both content to stay here for New Years and, in fact, Guyta was highly inspired to facilitate a women´s circle down by the lake. We spent the early evening wandering for the perfect site, gathering wood and then we found a nice place for dinner.
After dinner we returned to La Paz and unexpectedly discovered that our little group of 2 or 3 women had grown to 6, and off we went to the beach. It appeared the little scamps who had offered to ´help´us earlier to gather wood (for a price, of course) had disappeared with our stash. Of course, it could´ve been someone else, but my bet´s on those boys. Fortunately, many hands makes light work and we had all grabbed an armful of wood on our way down, so we had what we needed.
After a beautiful circle under the full moon, we headed up to Las Piramedes, where some of the men from La Paz ended up meeting us and we attended the full moon ritual there also. It was beautiful. It helped reinforce my decision to attend the moon course. Perhaps my only disappointment, as we ´Om´ed in the New Year was that I could hear the incredible fireworks in the sky, and caught little flashes of green and red, but I didn´t get to see them. As I´ve said before, Guatemalans love their fireworks, and based on the duration of the noise, I would say this was a spectacular show. Oh well . . .can´t have it all!
Of course, New Years remained incomplete without some good partying, and as we returned to La Paz, the bar ´Ganesh´right outside the gate was in full swing. So we went inside to grab water, money, etc. . . and my hoops, of course, and headed back out. Before we defaulted to the closest party, my friends wanted to see what else was happening around town, so we took a wander. We walked up the ´village´where the locals live and hang out, and there was a fully attended service happening in the church - at 1AM!! Across the square a Marimba band was playing at full ear-blasting volume. We wandered up to check it out, but I couldn´t get all that close as it just hurt my ears. Finally, we headed down to the lake to check out a couple of other potential party spots, but it turned out Ganesh, where we started was really the only hot-spot in town. So we finally settled there for about a half hour/ 45 minutes of hooping and dancing, before I finally had to head for bed.
As it turns out, the party went until dawn (not much sound barrier where I was, right next door, but I think I got a pretty good few hours sleep before the morning evangelical prayers started over the town-wide loudspeaker. Did I mention that Guatemala is LOUD?? I thought it was just the firecrackers . . . but it´s really not. It´s just LOUD here. If it´s not firecrackers, it´s evangelicals, or dogs barking . . . or music . . . or whatever . . . but there´s always something. Wow.
Happy New Year´s Everyone!!!
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