So . . . we´re all familiar with the phrase, "An Act of God" - it´s often used in insurance small print to provide an escape clause, whereby the insurance company does not have to fork out any money for the suffering of the insured. Usually it refers to natural disasters and other such things. In this case, someone with dyslexia was taking care of my fine print.
I have three dogs in my life in San Marcos. Pinto was my first dog-buddy. I discovered him when I was eating at Fe, while on the Moon Course, before I started working there. He was very friendly, but not well-received by most, as he had a ghastly tumor on his flank - about the size of a large lime, and really gross - because he was constantly chewing on it. Being me, I couldn't help but fall in love with him immediately and wanted to know who was responsible for him, and for ensuring he get the care he needs. Turned out that while he is 'owned' by a family up the path, they're not very reliable about following through on care for him if it costs money. So there's another foreigner that buys him big bags of food . . . and things like surgery for his tumor just keep getting put off.
My first act of Dog: at the end of January I got up early in the morning and went on the hunt for Pinto to take him to the monthly clinic offered by a vet from Guat City. Fortunately Christina, Pinto's owner was on-board, came with me and was totally supportive. While the dog was being operated on, Christina went home and returned with a wheel-barrow, which is what Pinto was taken home in when he emerged, groggy, from the surgery.
The next 2 weeks were fairly uneventful - although I'm sure the other dogs were making fun of him in the make-shift cone that his family created from a waste-basket. Like most dogs, he desperately wanted to chew at the stitches . . .and the cone was necessary to keep him away from it. It worked for about 10 days, after which he managed to catch the basket on a barbed-wire fence. I spent the next 4 days chasing him to get a cone back on as he chewed away at his stitches every chance he got. Quite despite him, however, we got through it, and he is healing very nicely. 4 months later you can barely see the scar.
Pinto was the first of my dog-loves in San Marcos, but I fell just as in love with the two beautiful dogs that live on the property where I´ve been staying for the last 3 months: Wispy and Sassy. Sassy is the smaller of the two dogs; black with gold markings and deep mournful eyes. She has an ability to get in and out of the property at will, and to get in and out of trouble with equal ease. She´s a little bit timid, and very loyal, and used to follow Katherine (the owner of my hut) everywhere. Now she follows me. Wispy is a bigger golden lab cross, a big chunky guy, who gets into trouble easily, but doesn´t have nearly the same grace or ability to get back out. Where sassy wisps in and out . . . he lumbers. No one is certain how he ended up named Wispy, except maybe for its irony. Some suggest it´s a reference to his brains . . . ie, he´s not very bright; but I have witnessed that his intelligence is simply selective, rather than lacking.
My second Act of Dog came towards the end of my stay in San Marcos. I was scheduled to work my last weekend at the restaurant, and was having some rather mixed feelings about it. My feeling of needing the money had taken priority over my feeling of being really done with the job and the restaurant. (You know that relationship that´s really done, and ready for transition, but you just keep hanging on???) So, Friday arrived and I got myself ready, physically and emotionally, for my night at work, reminding myself it was just two more shifts.
As I walked to work, I discovered Wispy on the path . . . surprised a little, as I was certain that I had left him inside the property . . . but who knows - maybe someone stopped by and he took the opportunity to go wandering. So, I greeted him with enthusiasm and walked him promptly back to the property. Previous experience has demonstrated that Wispy, out-of-the-yard while I'm at work, is not a good thing. When he's come to visit me in the past, he's just generally a trouble-maker . . . . in and out of the kitchen, following me around generally getting under the boss' feet. It's not pretty. He's also, more recently, gotten wise to my game of my walking him home . . . and tends to resist. Fortunately, I hadn't reached work yet, so he followed me home quite willingly.
I got to work and discovered the boss was in a less than stellar mood. Improved none by the appearance of Wispy, trotting in after me. Now I was suspicious - it seemed unlikely he'd been let out again. . . .but as far as I knew, while Sassy could get in and out of the yard at will, Wispy couldn't. Sooo . . . with some persuasion (ie. food) I managed to walk him home again. Unfortunately, as I returned to work, I discovered him on the steps of Fe - it appeared he'd found his own special route out of the yard and he was quite determined to stay. This did not improve my boss' mood . . . at all. So, we came up with a win-win solution. He paid me my base pay, and I took the dog home. It didn't take me long to find my gratitude and joy for this very annoying dog.
The next afternoon I went back to talk to the boss, and explained that since Niki & Dave were out of town, and the dogs were missing them - and therefore more likely to follow me, and since Wispy now had his own escape route . . . I couldn't promise he wouldn't follow me to work that night. We agreed that it was best if we just called things done. And so the relationship ended peacefully, and I didn't have to work my last two shifts. Many thanks go out to Wispy the annoying escape-artist.
Of course, lest I get too mushy about it . . . this all happened the weekend of Feria, the town festival. A big, noisy, drunken affair in which wandering dogs is not a good thing. With the family away, Sassy basically tried to carve herself into their front door . . .except when I was home - then she came and chilled in my hut. She is terrified by the noise - especially the fireworks. Wispy's more of an extrovert - so he followed me around and sought reassurance as long as I was around . . . hovering like Sassy . . . until Saturday night sometime when he buggered off and didn't come back.
This would be Act of Dog number 3. I spent two days worrying pathetically, envisioning horrible stolen-dog scenarios, alternately worrying about the worst and then cursing him for just being off having fun. It was Sassy's grief-stricken look all weekend that was my undoing. Fortunately,when the family returned I found out that Wispy has a regular house he goes to up in the Barrios where he feels safe when the world has gone crazy, and that's where he'd been all weekend. Chente brought him home the next morning. sigh.
Acts of Dog . . . and other things not covered in the small print. It's amazing how these four-leggeds can have such a huge impact on our life.
The morning I left San Marcos, it was saying goodbye to these pooches that brought me to tears. The sad look in Sassy's eyes as I hugged her goodbye . . . knowing I couldn't explain it to her, and that I would be just one more person who has left her. Thank goodness Wispy came back . . . and they have each other, and Rose . . . and a whole village that is theirs to roam. Pinto has many others who watch over him, and even travelers who come back just to see him. I trust they will all be ok, as I know that each of them has a little piece of my heart.
Showing posts with label san marcos la laguna. Show all posts
Showing posts with label san marcos la laguna. Show all posts
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
Feria!
Every little town in Guatemala has it's own town fair once a year: Feria. But in true Guatemalan style, although Feria is a single day - the celebration starts 3 or more weeks ahead, and continues for at least 8 days afterward. The preceding three weeks are a build-up: of vendors, of musicians, of food and of general partying and mayhem.
The Feria celebration is a mixed thing. The music is pretty good - lots of marimba bands and other live performances. The food is great; cheap Guatemalan tostadas and lots of Feria cookies (they look like bagels, but apparently they're like biscotti). The school bands kick into high gear and can be heard at all hours. Of course, so can the fire-crackers and the bomb-like things they set off in lieu of actual fireworks.
The music incites dancing - which generally I think of as a good thing, but in this case some of it made me sad. What I came to see, that others had warned me about, is that Feria is also an excuse for the indigenous to get rip-roaring drunk, and much like in Canada - there's nothing pretty about that. Watching old men and ancient women dancing the awkward weave and wobble of the pitifully inebriated is heart-breaking. Worse to watch young girls and their mothers try to drag home their dad, who is long past time to go home - and he is too drunk to leave. The first night that was all I saw. I didn't hang out that long in the village . . . I just wandered through, saw the lights, watched the few dancers and headed home.
Fortunately, the night I actually went out for the evening and hung-out on the dance floor, I also saw young couples enjoying the music, enjoying each other. I saw folks of all ages dancing, sharing the floor, sharing laughs . . . . I even got a picture of some adorable little girls, hanging out under the stage. That was on "Ocho Dia" . . .the 8th day. As I said, Feria has a three week lead up and then at least an 8 day follow up, known simply as "Ocho Dias" (8 days). On Ocho Dia I was hanging out by the stage, watching the conga player, dancing with my friends, listening to the children scream on the Ferris wheel, and watching the community dance.
Eight days earlier, on Feria Day, I had finally wandered up for a bit to get a better look at what was going on, and then settled in to see what was going to happen under the big-top. I couldn't tell if the band was just ending or about to begin. As I was trying to figure it out, I found myself in a staring contest with a most lovely Garafuna (Afro-Latin) man. When he patted the speaker he was sitting on and invited me over, I discovered that he was a conga player in the marimba band that had been playing all weekend . . . waiting for the next band to begin. I also discovered that he didn't speak any English - so my Spanish, highly under-developed for three and a half months, suddenly got an incredible workout. Turns out I had learned far more than I realized all that time - taking it in, even though I wasn't using it. In my last two weeks in Guatemala I spoke far more Spanish than in my prior three months. Jeshua turned out to be an amazing Spanish teacher.
So Feria was a memorable experience for me in many ways. I saw another side (several actually) of the local people, I met a lovely man, and I finally got my Spanish jump-started . . .enabling me in my last weeks in San Marcos to finally have some long-overdue real conversations with several of the locals who I had wanted to connect with.
The Feria celebration is a mixed thing. The music is pretty good - lots of marimba bands and other live performances. The food is great; cheap Guatemalan tostadas and lots of Feria cookies (they look like bagels, but apparently they're like biscotti). The school bands kick into high gear and can be heard at all hours. Of course, so can the fire-crackers and the bomb-like things they set off in lieu of actual fireworks.
The music incites dancing - which generally I think of as a good thing, but in this case some of it made me sad. What I came to see, that others had warned me about, is that Feria is also an excuse for the indigenous to get rip-roaring drunk, and much like in Canada - there's nothing pretty about that. Watching old men and ancient women dancing the awkward weave and wobble of the pitifully inebriated is heart-breaking. Worse to watch young girls and their mothers try to drag home their dad, who is long past time to go home - and he is too drunk to leave. The first night that was all I saw. I didn't hang out that long in the village . . . I just wandered through, saw the lights, watched the few dancers and headed home.
Fortunately, the night I actually went out for the evening and hung-out on the dance floor, I also saw young couples enjoying the music, enjoying each other. I saw folks of all ages dancing, sharing the floor, sharing laughs . . . . I even got a picture of some adorable little girls, hanging out under the stage. That was on "Ocho Dia" . . .the 8th day. As I said, Feria has a three week lead up and then at least an 8 day follow up, known simply as "Ocho Dias" (8 days). On Ocho Dia I was hanging out by the stage, watching the conga player, dancing with my friends, listening to the children scream on the Ferris wheel, and watching the community dance.
Eight days earlier, on Feria Day, I had finally wandered up for a bit to get a better look at what was going on, and then settled in to see what was going to happen under the big-top. I couldn't tell if the band was just ending or about to begin. As I was trying to figure it out, I found myself in a staring contest with a most lovely Garafuna (Afro-Latin) man. When he patted the speaker he was sitting on and invited me over, I discovered that he was a conga player in the marimba band that had been playing all weekend . . . waiting for the next band to begin. I also discovered that he didn't speak any English - so my Spanish, highly under-developed for three and a half months, suddenly got an incredible workout. Turns out I had learned far more than I realized all that time - taking it in, even though I wasn't using it. In my last two weeks in Guatemala I spoke far more Spanish than in my prior three months. Jeshua turned out to be an amazing Spanish teacher.
So Feria was a memorable experience for me in many ways. I saw another side (several actually) of the local people, I met a lovely man, and I finally got my Spanish jump-started . . .enabling me in my last weeks in San Marcos to finally have some long-overdue real conversations with several of the locals who I had wanted to connect with.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
The People of San Marcos
Trying to describe the people of San Marcos is both fascinating and challenging. There are two distinct groups and some definitive sub-divides within them.
The most obvious divide is between the Indigenous and the 'Gringos' (used loosely to describe all the foreigners), demonstrated both through the geographical division and the underlying tension evident if one engages either in any length of conversation about living here (and with each other). Amongst the Gringos themselves, there are the microcosms. The long-term residents, the newer residents, longevity still to be determined and, of course, the tourists.
Geographically, there are essentially two towns here - the Indigenous town at the top of the hill, and the gringo town area down towards the lake. The gringo town is essentially one great big square, more or less surrounding the Pyramids in the middle. Most of gringo life here takes place on one main path. This path contains Restaurant Fe, where I work, Blue Lili Coffee house where I often hang out, a little Tienda (convenience store), an Italian Tapas place (our direct competition) and a little clothing, jewellery and kitch store. Littered along the path are fresh fruit and veg vendors, jewellery vendors, and an indigenous home / storefront where they sell avocados and empanadas. (3 for 10Q . . . that's lunch for just over $1.)
The gringo population here is probably about 300 (give or take) . . . .not including tourists, but it's a hard count to take, because even the 'residents' here are so transient. People come for a week, and stay for months. . . . . and become part of the community . . . and then leave. Really, I am one of those 'residents' right now . . . and yet I've only been here 3 months, and plan to leave again in another 2 or less. So it's a hard count to take . . . and makes for an interesting community dynamic. There are some who have been here for several years, and always new settlers who figure they will stay for a long time. Only time will tell. It's also common for folks to spend part of each year here, and go back to somewhere in North America the rest of the year.
I have no idea what the population of the Indigenous part of town is. Larger and certainly more stable than the gringo part. The cultural divide there is huge and visible. From the money they earn, to the clothes they wear, to the lifestyle they lead. Most of the men dress in the usual gringo style jeans and a shirt, although there are still some who wear the traditional clothing. By contrast, the women almost entirely wear the customary costumes - beautiful coloured shirts and long skirts . . . a ton of fabric gathered at the waist in a snug wide belt. (I'll have to post pictures on these) A friend of mine has one of those skirts and wore it one night to sing . . . said she'll never do it again. I'm not sure how they move with such agility in those skirts.
What amazes me the most though is what these people carry. The men carry hundreds of pounds - wood, concrete . . . building materials . . . on their back in a strap that they wrap around the front of their head - really using their forehead to carry that weight. The old man who delivers wood to the restaurant where I work looks like he's in his 70's or older. (Frankly, he looks about 105, but I'm assuming he's not really that old.) The women (from young to old) carry everything on top of their heads. They walk around with baskets of breads, produce . . .whatever. One of them comes into my yard once a week to sell me fresh vegetables, and I've helped her put the basket back up afterward (NO idea how she'd do it herself!!! That basket must way well over 50 lbs. I still can't get over what these women carry up there . . . or how they balance it all, seemingly effortlessly!!!
Although the travel books mention that the indigenous have other languages – there are language schools here where you can learn K’ech Kel as well as Spanish, that is but one of the 12 dialects that make up the lake area alone. And what no one really mentions is that for all of the indigenous, Spanish is a hard-learned second language . . . not their first, and not one that most of them were born into. It is only in the last 10 or so years that they have been obliged to learn Spanish to accommodate the tourist trade that has become so much a part of their lives. Now they are being told they should learn English as well. As far as I can tell, overall, theirs is a much simpler existence . . . except where we have arrogantly come in and impacted their world.
It is both fascinating and sometimes painful to witness the impact of our (foreigners) presence on the local population, and concurrently to watch the impact on the gringo population, both of being here in Guatemala amongst the indigenous, and of living in the bubble that is this community. Like many small towns, drama and gossip are endemic to the size and proximity of the community members. Given the one-square-path geography here, you can imagine that the bubble is that much more intense. The nature of San Marcos, on a sacred lake, and directly over ley lines, amplifies the intensity.
I can't tell you what draws indigenous and other Guatemalans (not born here) to settle here , but the foreigners come from far and wide for a variety of personal reasons, but the themes are consistent. San Marcos is a mecca for healing - physical, spiritual, emotional. People come specifically to study at the Pyramids, or more generally for the yoga, meditation and body work that are so widely available here. As noted previously, people often come for a day or two, and stay for weeks, soaking up the energy, the services, the lake and the vibe.
Like many healing-focused communities, the paradox is powerful. It is those most in need of healing that often come and settle in healing places . . . and so, among the gringo community, the drama and dysfunction here are as readily available as the healing services. Having said that, there is also a wealth of welcoming, community, love and laughter. Making a place for oneself here is as simple, really, as just doing so. Creating what you want . . . and then sharing it. I am frequently surprised by how easy it is here just to start a business idea and make it go, or to make friendly acquaintances.
A quick aside: I've used the term 'friendly acquaintances' but I'm not certain it's quite the right one. Friends would be over-stating, but acquaintances feels too fleeting. True friendships take time to develop . .. . and I'm never sure what to call those new 'friends' that might with time become true friends, but also might not. Similarly, what do you call those casual 'friends' that you hang out with, see regularly, like . . . but aren't those deep friendships you really, really rely on??? We are missing some key words in the English language to describe layers of friendship)
I'm certain I have more observations about the people here, but lest it drift into another 2 weeks of thinking and composition . . . I'll leave it here, and add another entry when I'm ready.
The most obvious divide is between the Indigenous and the 'Gringos' (used loosely to describe all the foreigners), demonstrated both through the geographical division and the underlying tension evident if one engages either in any length of conversation about living here (and with each other). Amongst the Gringos themselves, there are the microcosms. The long-term residents, the newer residents, longevity still to be determined and, of course, the tourists.
Geographically, there are essentially two towns here - the Indigenous town at the top of the hill, and the gringo town area down towards the lake. The gringo town is essentially one great big square, more or less surrounding the Pyramids in the middle. Most of gringo life here takes place on one main path. This path contains Restaurant Fe, where I work, Blue Lili Coffee house where I often hang out, a little Tienda (convenience store), an Italian Tapas place (our direct competition) and a little clothing, jewellery and kitch store. Littered along the path are fresh fruit and veg vendors, jewellery vendors, and an indigenous home / storefront where they sell avocados and empanadas. (3 for 10Q . . . that's lunch for just over $1.)
The gringo population here is probably about 300 (give or take) . . . .not including tourists, but it's a hard count to take, because even the 'residents' here are so transient. People come for a week, and stay for months. . . . . and become part of the community . . . and then leave. Really, I am one of those 'residents' right now . . . and yet I've only been here 3 months, and plan to leave again in another 2 or less. So it's a hard count to take . . . and makes for an interesting community dynamic. There are some who have been here for several years, and always new settlers who figure they will stay for a long time. Only time will tell. It's also common for folks to spend part of each year here, and go back to somewhere in North America the rest of the year.
I have no idea what the population of the Indigenous part of town is. Larger and certainly more stable than the gringo part. The cultural divide there is huge and visible. From the money they earn, to the clothes they wear, to the lifestyle they lead. Most of the men dress in the usual gringo style jeans and a shirt, although there are still some who wear the traditional clothing. By contrast, the women almost entirely wear the customary costumes - beautiful coloured shirts and long skirts . . . a ton of fabric gathered at the waist in a snug wide belt. (I'll have to post pictures on these) A friend of mine has one of those skirts and wore it one night to sing . . . said she'll never do it again. I'm not sure how they move with such agility in those skirts.
What amazes me the most though is what these people carry. The men carry hundreds of pounds - wood, concrete . . . building materials . . . on their back in a strap that they wrap around the front of their head - really using their forehead to carry that weight. The old man who delivers wood to the restaurant where I work looks like he's in his 70's or older. (Frankly, he looks about 105, but I'm assuming he's not really that old.) The women (from young to old) carry everything on top of their heads. They walk around with baskets of breads, produce . . .whatever. One of them comes into my yard once a week to sell me fresh vegetables, and I've helped her put the basket back up afterward (NO idea how she'd do it herself!!! That basket must way well over 50 lbs. I still can't get over what these women carry up there . . . or how they balance it all, seemingly effortlessly!!!
Although the travel books mention that the indigenous have other languages – there are language schools here where you can learn K’ech Kel as well as Spanish, that is but one of the 12 dialects that make up the lake area alone. And what no one really mentions is that for all of the indigenous, Spanish is a hard-learned second language . . . not their first, and not one that most of them were born into. It is only in the last 10 or so years that they have been obliged to learn Spanish to accommodate the tourist trade that has become so much a part of their lives. Now they are being told they should learn English as well. As far as I can tell, overall, theirs is a much simpler existence . . . except where we have arrogantly come in and impacted their world.
It is both fascinating and sometimes painful to witness the impact of our (foreigners) presence on the local population, and concurrently to watch the impact on the gringo population, both of being here in Guatemala amongst the indigenous, and of living in the bubble that is this community. Like many small towns, drama and gossip are endemic to the size and proximity of the community members. Given the one-square-path geography here, you can imagine that the bubble is that much more intense. The nature of San Marcos, on a sacred lake, and directly over ley lines, amplifies the intensity.
I can't tell you what draws indigenous and other Guatemalans (not born here) to settle here , but the foreigners come from far and wide for a variety of personal reasons, but the themes are consistent. San Marcos is a mecca for healing - physical, spiritual, emotional. People come specifically to study at the Pyramids, or more generally for the yoga, meditation and body work that are so widely available here. As noted previously, people often come for a day or two, and stay for weeks, soaking up the energy, the services, the lake and the vibe.
Like many healing-focused communities, the paradox is powerful. It is those most in need of healing that often come and settle in healing places . . . and so, among the gringo community, the drama and dysfunction here are as readily available as the healing services. Having said that, there is also a wealth of welcoming, community, love and laughter. Making a place for oneself here is as simple, really, as just doing so. Creating what you want . . . and then sharing it. I am frequently surprised by how easy it is here just to start a business idea and make it go, or to make friendly acquaintances.
A quick aside: I've used the term 'friendly acquaintances' but I'm not certain it's quite the right one. Friends would be over-stating, but acquaintances feels too fleeting. True friendships take time to develop . .. . and I'm never sure what to call those new 'friends' that might with time become true friends, but also might not. Similarly, what do you call those casual 'friends' that you hang out with, see regularly, like . . . but aren't those deep friendships you really, really rely on??? We are missing some key words in the English language to describe layers of friendship)
I'm certain I have more observations about the people here, but lest it drift into another 2 weeks of thinking and composition . . . I'll leave it here, and add another entry when I'm ready.
Reflections at the 3 month point . . .
I have again gone for a number of weeks without blogging. When I look in my journal I notice that it too has been sadly neglected. My excuse has been that I am simply too busy . . . or alternately, that life is too intense to be put into words. Neither of those is fully truthful, however, neither is fully a lie either.
From a blogging perspective there is the question of just how transparent I want to be about my inner journey . . . and especially when that inner journey is so dominant, how to keep an interesting record of the outer journey, which in some ways has become almost mundane.
Over the last 7 weeks, since I finished the Moon Course at the Pyramids, I have settled (externally) into a routine of working 5 nights a week as a waitress, teaching my dance class one night a week, and a hoop class one afternoon. I have taken two massage courses: Indian Head Massage and Foot Reflexology; both were amazing. I have taken the usual trips over to San Pedro or Panajachel for groceries and other miscellaneous supplies, and even hooked myself up with yet another prospective job (doing transcription) on one of those trips.
Some weeks I make it into the lake for a swim almost daily, and others are so full (especially course weeks) that I have gone days without giving myself time at the lake, only to find myself at the familiar place of overwhelm and resentment from my poor self-care. Those have been powerful learning moments for me - because, really, this is not the place to be stressed out trying to do too much. If I want that, North America would be happy to provide the venue for it with FAR better pay.
Mind you, stress not-withstanding, North America might also provide me with the venue for a full night's sleep - which I haven't had in weeks. Between the 2 beautiful dogs that bark right outside my window at all hours and the dyslexic rooster across the pathway that crows at 2am every morning . . . I don't think I've slept through the night more than once since I left the pyramids. I admit, I think I may sleep for days when I return to Canada. I honestly don't remember downtown Toronto being this disruptive to my sleep pattern. Perhaps it's just selective memory??
Today I spent the afternoon in Pana trying to renew my visa . . . except that the place to do it simply never opened. No one seemed to know why. I hung out, went for lunch, returned, went shopping, returned . . . figuring I'd just arrived in the midst of their lunch / siesta break (2 hours is common for lunch here) . . .but no one ever showed up, so I returned to San Marcos unsatisfied. It appears I will likely be paying late fees to renew my visa. I feel, in this moment, that there is a powerful metaphor here . . . but I'm not sure yet what it is.
The inner journey of the last several weeks has been both parallel and almost in dissonance with the external journey. Even as I have settled into routine, and begun to establish myself within the community, I have been plagued with homesickness. And yet, when I have contemplated simply packing up and heading home, I have been equally affected with a clear sense that it's not time yet, that I have not seen, heard, experienced and learned all that I came here for. This combination sometimes inspired in me a surprising resentment - like I want to go home, but don't feel I can. It's an unexpected and odd sensation.
It has served to highlight, however, some old familiar patterns, and some clear and current questions. I am humbled to discover, for a clear extrovert - known for my ability to engage and build relationships, how long it takes me to truly invest my self . . . . how much of me I hold just outside the situation I'm in . . . one emotional foot out the door. It appears I am, just a little (maybe a lot) afraid of commitment . . . and seeing it here, I can see it in other parts of my life - over and over.
I can also see, with real clarity, the parts of my life that I am excited to return to, and the parts that raise real questions for me. When I have paused to contemplate returning home, I realize that on some level I have been living in transition for almost 2 years; since I left my government job. Cortes Island is my home - I feel that keenly, and yet for the entire time I have been there, I have been on and off island almost constantly. Similarly, I feel a deep and keen connection to my work team . .. and yet I know that I am not really contributing at the level that I am capable, nor am I gaining the fulfillment from my work that would be possible if I were more fully engaged.
And so I am left to ponder - what is it that I am returning to? What is the life I want to be living? What will it look like to return home and start again? Am I starting from scratch, really? What will I actually be starting with?
And in true human style, I have been so busy obsessing over such questions that I have often forgotten to be present right where I am - in San Marcos, on a sacred lake, formed and surrounded by volcanoes, amongst a beautiful community of interesting people, eating Avocados that fall from the sky, bananas and mangoes for pennies . . .
And so I face a cross-roads as I seek to renew my visa and create the option of another 3 months worth of time here. How long do I want to stay? Am I ready to contemplate heading home, or is there more to see, do, experience? What is that I really want out of this trip, and what do I need to do to experience that?
From a blogging perspective there is the question of just how transparent I want to be about my inner journey . . . and especially when that inner journey is so dominant, how to keep an interesting record of the outer journey, which in some ways has become almost mundane.
Over the last 7 weeks, since I finished the Moon Course at the Pyramids, I have settled (externally) into a routine of working 5 nights a week as a waitress, teaching my dance class one night a week, and a hoop class one afternoon. I have taken two massage courses: Indian Head Massage and Foot Reflexology; both were amazing. I have taken the usual trips over to San Pedro or Panajachel for groceries and other miscellaneous supplies, and even hooked myself up with yet another prospective job (doing transcription) on one of those trips.
Some weeks I make it into the lake for a swim almost daily, and others are so full (especially course weeks) that I have gone days without giving myself time at the lake, only to find myself at the familiar place of overwhelm and resentment from my poor self-care. Those have been powerful learning moments for me - because, really, this is not the place to be stressed out trying to do too much. If I want that, North America would be happy to provide the venue for it with FAR better pay.
Mind you, stress not-withstanding, North America might also provide me with the venue for a full night's sleep - which I haven't had in weeks. Between the 2 beautiful dogs that bark right outside my window at all hours and the dyslexic rooster across the pathway that crows at 2am every morning . . . I don't think I've slept through the night more than once since I left the pyramids. I admit, I think I may sleep for days when I return to Canada. I honestly don't remember downtown Toronto being this disruptive to my sleep pattern. Perhaps it's just selective memory??
Today I spent the afternoon in Pana trying to renew my visa . . . except that the place to do it simply never opened. No one seemed to know why. I hung out, went for lunch, returned, went shopping, returned . . . figuring I'd just arrived in the midst of their lunch / siesta break (2 hours is common for lunch here) . . .but no one ever showed up, so I returned to San Marcos unsatisfied. It appears I will likely be paying late fees to renew my visa. I feel, in this moment, that there is a powerful metaphor here . . . but I'm not sure yet what it is.
The inner journey of the last several weeks has been both parallel and almost in dissonance with the external journey. Even as I have settled into routine, and begun to establish myself within the community, I have been plagued with homesickness. And yet, when I have contemplated simply packing up and heading home, I have been equally affected with a clear sense that it's not time yet, that I have not seen, heard, experienced and learned all that I came here for. This combination sometimes inspired in me a surprising resentment - like I want to go home, but don't feel I can. It's an unexpected and odd sensation.
It has served to highlight, however, some old familiar patterns, and some clear and current questions. I am humbled to discover, for a clear extrovert - known for my ability to engage and build relationships, how long it takes me to truly invest my self . . . . how much of me I hold just outside the situation I'm in . . . one emotional foot out the door. It appears I am, just a little (maybe a lot) afraid of commitment . . . and seeing it here, I can see it in other parts of my life - over and over.
I can also see, with real clarity, the parts of my life that I am excited to return to, and the parts that raise real questions for me. When I have paused to contemplate returning home, I realize that on some level I have been living in transition for almost 2 years; since I left my government job. Cortes Island is my home - I feel that keenly, and yet for the entire time I have been there, I have been on and off island almost constantly. Similarly, I feel a deep and keen connection to my work team . .. and yet I know that I am not really contributing at the level that I am capable, nor am I gaining the fulfillment from my work that would be possible if I were more fully engaged.
And so I am left to ponder - what is it that I am returning to? What is the life I want to be living? What will it look like to return home and start again? Am I starting from scratch, really? What will I actually be starting with?
And in true human style, I have been so busy obsessing over such questions that I have often forgotten to be present right where I am - in San Marcos, on a sacred lake, formed and surrounded by volcanoes, amongst a beautiful community of interesting people, eating Avocados that fall from the sky, bananas and mangoes for pennies . . .
And so I face a cross-roads as I seek to renew my visa and create the option of another 3 months worth of time here. How long do I want to stay? Am I ready to contemplate heading home, or is there more to see, do, experience? What is that I really want out of this trip, and what do I need to do to experience that?
Monday, February 15, 2010
My new 'home' for a little while . . .
I moved into my newest ´home' just over a week ago, and I´m settling in slowly but surely. The place I´m living is definitely part of this learning journey on many levels.
The place I´m in is a house/cat-sit . .. I am looking after 2 cats and the house while their owner goes traveling, although I have not committed to remain until she returns . . . because like me, she doesn´t have a return ticket. I have, however, committed to staying at least until the end of March to provide the animals with some continuity. It appears that is no small deal . . . while one of the cats has warmed to me fairly quickly, the other is far more skittish, and I think needs the longer term stability. New 'sitters' every month will not go over well.
It is still amazing to me that I was offered this opportunity (virtually for free . . . just pay the hydro and cat food) so quickly and that it came together so easily. A powerful reminder that the universe provides and that my old habits of panic and scramble really don´t serve me. So that is powerful lesson number one.
The other powerful learning for me in this place is about what I can really handle, and what I really need in order to live well. When I moved to Cortes . . . and even until I left, I would never have lived in a place this rustic. I was convinced that I needed indoor plumbing, amongst other things, in order to stay sane and live comfortably. I also resisted 'studio' style places, convinced I needed more space.
So here I am, living in a one room shack with no plumbing at all in it. In a space I estimate to be about 6 x 12 or 15 feet I have my bed, a small fridge, a stove and some shelving. Outside, about 10 feet away is my bathroom - it does have running water for the shower and the sink, and a compost toilet. I do dishes another 10 feet away at an outdoor sink setup common here for dishes and laundry.
There is also a beautiful 3 story adobe house right in front of me that is part of the package. . . .but it doesn´t yet have windows, doors or stairs. I could sleep on the top floor if I was willing to do the ladder thing . . . but I´m just not. And nothing of value can go into the house (including plumbing fixtures) until the doors and windows are in, as they will most likely be stolen. I may yet use the space up there for yoga, meditation or sun bathing though . . . as it´s far above any other properties.
The shack itself is charming . . . fully equipped when I arrived with a multitude of spiders webs and nests (4 hours of cleaning later, I believe I have evicted most of them). The walls are boards that almost meet, and the roof is a standard issue Guatemalan tin roof, affixed with heavy rocks holding it down. Essentially, I have a roof as long as no one takes the rock piles. I figure it worked for Katherine for the last 6 years . . . I should be ok. There is one light in the place, but it´s so small that one is plenty. There is no outside light so when I found a string of Christmas lights at the Saturday market (really a community flea market) I bought them and set them up outside so I´d have light to come home to after work.
Now that I´ve cleaned it, added an extra shelf unit that I found under the bed, set up my clothes, added an extra foam and my colourful spread on the bed . . . etc., I´m actually surprisingly comfy here. It´s not supposed to rain at this time of year AT ALL, but it has been in the evenings . . .and I´ve been quite content on the couple that I wasn´t working to curl up with tea, candles and a book. During the day I´m either out or I sit on the porch of the big house to have my tea, eat my meals, read a book or make hoops.
So, I´m not fully sure why I took the place or why I´m so comfortable here. Certainly, the warm climate facilitates some adjustments more easily than the chilly Canadian winter. . . but I know that´s not the whole story. I know that part of it is a readiness to tackle my own 'stuff' around stuff . . . and around comfort . . .and to explore what simplicity can offer me. I´m not against being comfortable (I did bring two pillows with me . . . with NO regrets) . . . .but I do think it´s important for me to know what comfort really is, and to able to live comfortably without needing a lot of the conveniences. Not only is it less expensive, but it´s also easier on the mother . . . the earth is much happier with compost toilets than with the incredible polluting waste of flush toilets. Which is not to say I won´t appreciate having one again . . . just that I´ll make choices with greater awareness and with a wider range of choice about where and how I can live when I get home.
An interesting learning journey this is . . . .indeed.
PS: pictures are up so you can see for yourself! http://picasaweb.google.com/Called2Inspire
The place I´m in is a house/cat-sit . .. I am looking after 2 cats and the house while their owner goes traveling, although I have not committed to remain until she returns . . . because like me, she doesn´t have a return ticket. I have, however, committed to staying at least until the end of March to provide the animals with some continuity. It appears that is no small deal . . . while one of the cats has warmed to me fairly quickly, the other is far more skittish, and I think needs the longer term stability. New 'sitters' every month will not go over well.
It is still amazing to me that I was offered this opportunity (virtually for free . . . just pay the hydro and cat food) so quickly and that it came together so easily. A powerful reminder that the universe provides and that my old habits of panic and scramble really don´t serve me. So that is powerful lesson number one.
The other powerful learning for me in this place is about what I can really handle, and what I really need in order to live well. When I moved to Cortes . . . and even until I left, I would never have lived in a place this rustic. I was convinced that I needed indoor plumbing, amongst other things, in order to stay sane and live comfortably. I also resisted 'studio' style places, convinced I needed more space.
So here I am, living in a one room shack with no plumbing at all in it. In a space I estimate to be about 6 x 12 or 15 feet I have my bed, a small fridge, a stove and some shelving. Outside, about 10 feet away is my bathroom - it does have running water for the shower and the sink, and a compost toilet. I do dishes another 10 feet away at an outdoor sink setup common here for dishes and laundry.
There is also a beautiful 3 story adobe house right in front of me that is part of the package. . . .but it doesn´t yet have windows, doors or stairs. I could sleep on the top floor if I was willing to do the ladder thing . . . but I´m just not. And nothing of value can go into the house (including plumbing fixtures) until the doors and windows are in, as they will most likely be stolen. I may yet use the space up there for yoga, meditation or sun bathing though . . . as it´s far above any other properties.
The shack itself is charming . . . fully equipped when I arrived with a multitude of spiders webs and nests (4 hours of cleaning later, I believe I have evicted most of them). The walls are boards that almost meet, and the roof is a standard issue Guatemalan tin roof, affixed with heavy rocks holding it down. Essentially, I have a roof as long as no one takes the rock piles. I figure it worked for Katherine for the last 6 years . . . I should be ok. There is one light in the place, but it´s so small that one is plenty. There is no outside light so when I found a string of Christmas lights at the Saturday market (really a community flea market) I bought them and set them up outside so I´d have light to come home to after work.
Now that I´ve cleaned it, added an extra shelf unit that I found under the bed, set up my clothes, added an extra foam and my colourful spread on the bed . . . etc., I´m actually surprisingly comfy here. It´s not supposed to rain at this time of year AT ALL, but it has been in the evenings . . .and I´ve been quite content on the couple that I wasn´t working to curl up with tea, candles and a book. During the day I´m either out or I sit on the porch of the big house to have my tea, eat my meals, read a book or make hoops.
So, I´m not fully sure why I took the place or why I´m so comfortable here. Certainly, the warm climate facilitates some adjustments more easily than the chilly Canadian winter. . . but I know that´s not the whole story. I know that part of it is a readiness to tackle my own 'stuff' around stuff . . . and around comfort . . .and to explore what simplicity can offer me. I´m not against being comfortable (I did bring two pillows with me . . . with NO regrets) . . . .but I do think it´s important for me to know what comfort really is, and to able to live comfortably without needing a lot of the conveniences. Not only is it less expensive, but it´s also easier on the mother . . . the earth is much happier with compost toilets than with the incredible polluting waste of flush toilets. Which is not to say I won´t appreciate having one again . . . just that I´ll make choices with greater awareness and with a wider range of choice about where and how I can live when I get home.
An interesting learning journey this is . . . .indeed.
PS: pictures are up so you can see for yourself! http://picasaweb.google.com/Called2Inspire
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Mayan Wedding on the Sacred Hill
Early into my stay in San Marcos, I had the privilege of attending a Mayan ritual up on a sacred hill over looking the lake. I don´t remember anymore how I found out about it, but I was told it would be a ritual to heal the lake and that it was open, so my friend (and fellow Cortesian) Barbara and I wandered up.
It was definitely an interesting day. The Sacred spot is up a steep hill, behind a hostel called Xamanek (pronounced Shamanek). The climb to Xamenek alone is a good one . . . challenging enough for one as not-so-fleet footed as me . . . the hill beyond was work. When Barbara and I wandered up, we didn´t really know where we were aiming for . .. we just knew it was up the hill somewhere. When we got up to the hostel there was no sign of any ceremony and no people around . . . and the one woman working at the hostel was less than forthcoming or helpful (I think she was having a rough day). Stymied, we hung around for a little while . .. explored a little around the hostel and then decided to head back down, surrendering that we weren´t meant to go.
So we got about a third of the way back down the hill when we had to move aside for three men carrying a marimba up the hill. Yes - a full size marimba up a steep foot path, I kid you not. The marimba was preceded by a man I instinctively knew was the Mayan Shaman . . . .not certain how I knew, but I did. Barbara and I stared at each other for a moment, contemplated the climb back up and decided that if they could schlep the marimba, we could manage to follow them. It was shortly thereafter we discovered the even steeper (mountain goat) path behind the hostel, making us wonder aloud several times how these men could climb it with a marimba . . . and yet they did.
The ceremony was slated to start at 10 . .. it was about 20 after when the set up really began. It started with creating the fire pit. The circle of rocks are a permanent fixture on the hill. What they dress it with for the sacred fire is astounding. The Shaman started by drawing a + in the circle, with white sugar, making it into a mandala. Then each of the corners was filled in with little circle things made, I think, from peat. These were followed by groups of taper candles, honey, . . . and so many other things, I´m sorry I can´t recall. What was most astonishing for me was the incredible number of candles that went in. While some were put in standing up so that their wicks could be lit in the normal way, there were also just clumps of small and large tapers positioned into the fire pit.
Once the fire was started, it built into quite a blaze . . . often billowing black smoke as the paraffin candles were consumed, whole, by the flames. I´ve never seen anything quite like it.
As it turned out, although it had been originally slated to be a ceremony for the lake, a couple´s yearning to be married by a Mayan Shaman had taken precedence and so we had the privilege of witnessing that. The ceremony went for well over 4 hours . . . although Barbara and I left after about 3 or so. We hadn´t prepared sufficiently for the conditions - intense sun, intense heat . . . . sitting / standing for that long. We just didn´t know.
What we saw was beautiful and intense. Much of it was translated into English, though with the marimba playing behind me I had trouble hearing much of it. Prayers, invocations and gratitude spoken by the Shaman or one of the other circle leaders (not sure - assistants, other shamans . . . . apprentices???) alternated with ceremonial tossing of things into the fire. Corn, rice, more candles . . . etc. Generally whatever was being offered to the flame was passed around first to all of us so that we could put our own blessings / intentions into the items and then everyone had a turn offering their items to the fire.
Again, while I missed much of the verbiage, there were a few things that stood out for me. One was that the Shaman explained that before they had even been allowed to come up to the hill to be married in the ceremony, the Shaman had spent an entire day with the couple grilling them on their hopes, dreams, expectations and commitments for this marriage. During the ceremony itself they were also asked WHY they had opted for a Mayan ceremony - what it meant to them - and what their commitment was to this marriage, this process . . .etc. They were then expected to answer in front of the circle of witnesses. These were not rhetorical questions.
The other thing that stood out for me was the level of devotion, passion, spirit that was brought to the ritual by those participating / facilitating. I didn´t need to hear or understand the words being spoken to feel the love, the reverence, the beauty of what was being created and celebrated. I couldn´t hear the words of commitment spoken by the couple, but I could see it in their faces and feel it from their hearts. Truly it was beautiful.
When Barbara and I decided to leave, I found I felt really ok to go. While it would have been lovely to witness the remainder of the ceremony, I felt like I had been gifted already with all that I had experienced, and I knew that my body needed shade and lots more water. It was truly a privilege to have witnessed as much as I had . . . and I trust there will be other ceremonies here if/when I am moved to attend again. It´s that kind of sacred place here.
It was definitely an interesting day. The Sacred spot is up a steep hill, behind a hostel called Xamanek (pronounced Shamanek). The climb to Xamenek alone is a good one . . . challenging enough for one as not-so-fleet footed as me . . . the hill beyond was work. When Barbara and I wandered up, we didn´t really know where we were aiming for . .. we just knew it was up the hill somewhere. When we got up to the hostel there was no sign of any ceremony and no people around . . . and the one woman working at the hostel was less than forthcoming or helpful (I think she was having a rough day). Stymied, we hung around for a little while . .. explored a little around the hostel and then decided to head back down, surrendering that we weren´t meant to go.
So we got about a third of the way back down the hill when we had to move aside for three men carrying a marimba up the hill. Yes - a full size marimba up a steep foot path, I kid you not. The marimba was preceded by a man I instinctively knew was the Mayan Shaman . . . .not certain how I knew, but I did. Barbara and I stared at each other for a moment, contemplated the climb back up and decided that if they could schlep the marimba, we could manage to follow them. It was shortly thereafter we discovered the even steeper (mountain goat) path behind the hostel, making us wonder aloud several times how these men could climb it with a marimba . . . and yet they did.
The ceremony was slated to start at 10 . .. it was about 20 after when the set up really began. It started with creating the fire pit. The circle of rocks are a permanent fixture on the hill. What they dress it with for the sacred fire is astounding. The Shaman started by drawing a + in the circle, with white sugar, making it into a mandala. Then each of the corners was filled in with little circle things made, I think, from peat. These were followed by groups of taper candles, honey, . . . and so many other things, I´m sorry I can´t recall. What was most astonishing for me was the incredible number of candles that went in. While some were put in standing up so that their wicks could be lit in the normal way, there were also just clumps of small and large tapers positioned into the fire pit.
Once the fire was started, it built into quite a blaze . . . often billowing black smoke as the paraffin candles were consumed, whole, by the flames. I´ve never seen anything quite like it.
As it turned out, although it had been originally slated to be a ceremony for the lake, a couple´s yearning to be married by a Mayan Shaman had taken precedence and so we had the privilege of witnessing that. The ceremony went for well over 4 hours . . . although Barbara and I left after about 3 or so. We hadn´t prepared sufficiently for the conditions - intense sun, intense heat . . . . sitting / standing for that long. We just didn´t know.
What we saw was beautiful and intense. Much of it was translated into English, though with the marimba playing behind me I had trouble hearing much of it. Prayers, invocations and gratitude spoken by the Shaman or one of the other circle leaders (not sure - assistants, other shamans . . . . apprentices???) alternated with ceremonial tossing of things into the fire. Corn, rice, more candles . . . etc. Generally whatever was being offered to the flame was passed around first to all of us so that we could put our own blessings / intentions into the items and then everyone had a turn offering their items to the fire.
Again, while I missed much of the verbiage, there were a few things that stood out for me. One was that the Shaman explained that before they had even been allowed to come up to the hill to be married in the ceremony, the Shaman had spent an entire day with the couple grilling them on their hopes, dreams, expectations and commitments for this marriage. During the ceremony itself they were also asked WHY they had opted for a Mayan ceremony - what it meant to them - and what their commitment was to this marriage, this process . . .etc. They were then expected to answer in front of the circle of witnesses. These were not rhetorical questions.
The other thing that stood out for me was the level of devotion, passion, spirit that was brought to the ritual by those participating / facilitating. I didn´t need to hear or understand the words being spoken to feel the love, the reverence, the beauty of what was being created and celebrated. I couldn´t hear the words of commitment spoken by the couple, but I could see it in their faces and feel it from their hearts. Truly it was beautiful.
When Barbara and I decided to leave, I found I felt really ok to go. While it would have been lovely to witness the remainder of the ceremony, I felt like I had been gifted already with all that I had experienced, and I knew that my body needed shade and lots more water. It was truly a privilege to have witnessed as much as I had . . . and I trust there will be other ceremonies here if/when I am moved to attend again. It´s that kind of sacred place here.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Finding my rhythm here
Well, it seems I´m settling in to something vaguely resembling a routine . . . though definitely stronger on the vaguely than on the routine part. The routine part is covered by work: I waitress 5-6 nights a week, so the rest of my life is planned around needing to be at Fé for about 5:30. It´s certainly not a long term career ambition, but I am enjoying it for now. My days unfold a little differently each day, depending on how I feel and what inspires me.
I´m starting to make some friends, casually at least, and discovering where I like to hang out when I´m not working. One of my favourite spots is down at the swim rocks, looking out at the water and the volcanoes. I don´t swim every day, but despite the dire warnings about the lake here . . . it seems safe enough to swim in here in the San Marcos inlet and it always feels wonderful when I do. A little sudsy when the locals do their laundry, but no adverse reactions my body . . . and given how sensitive I am, I figure that´s the best barometer I can go with.
I also seem to be gathering critical mass interest for my dance and hoop classes, and am hoping to start teaching next week. I have my first hoop assembled, and while I´m not super thrilled with the piping I´ve been able to find here, it definitely works and it looks good. Once I figure out the logistics of music, location and get enough hoops made I should be good to go with my various classes. I´m also hoping to start volunteering with the schools, teaching the kids to make and use hoops. Not sure yet how/when that will unfold, but it´s getting closer on the radar.
Now I´m off to the last day of my Plant Medicine course. Whenever I do return home, it will certainly be with a new basket full of knowledge, skills, tools and experiences. And no question, with a significantly different perspective on the world and how I live in it.
I´m starting to make some friends, casually at least, and discovering where I like to hang out when I´m not working. One of my favourite spots is down at the swim rocks, looking out at the water and the volcanoes. I don´t swim every day, but despite the dire warnings about the lake here . . . it seems safe enough to swim in here in the San Marcos inlet and it always feels wonderful when I do. A little sudsy when the locals do their laundry, but no adverse reactions my body . . . and given how sensitive I am, I figure that´s the best barometer I can go with.
I also seem to be gathering critical mass interest for my dance and hoop classes, and am hoping to start teaching next week. I have my first hoop assembled, and while I´m not super thrilled with the piping I´ve been able to find here, it definitely works and it looks good. Once I figure out the logistics of music, location and get enough hoops made I should be good to go with my various classes. I´m also hoping to start volunteering with the schools, teaching the kids to make and use hoops. Not sure yet how/when that will unfold, but it´s getting closer on the radar.
Now I´m off to the last day of my Plant Medicine course. Whenever I do return home, it will certainly be with a new basket full of knowledge, skills, tools and experiences. And no question, with a significantly different perspective on the world and how I live in it.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Manifesting abundance, clarity . . . .and there I am, back in the Fast Lane
I´m not sure how I managed it, but overnight I went from the slower, introspective pace of the pyramids to so busy I haven´t been able to find 10 minutes in the net cafe all week. Today is my first `day off' . . . finally.
The last couple of days of my retreat, while still powerful and introspective, were coloured by my increasing worry about my post-retreat plans . . . specifically in terms of where to live and how to pay for it. Life in Guatemala is extremely cheap, but it can be deceiving and easy to go through money quickly when doing the calculation all the time . . . oh, this is just $5 and that beautiful thing is only $10 . . . no problem . . . Suddenly, I discovered I had very little savings left (although I now own some beautiful Guatemalan handi-crafts, I´ve had some phenomenal body-work and an amazing month at the pyramids). But push suddenly was approaching shove, and I was aware that either money needed to start coming in, or I needed to look at heading home.
After spending far too much time worrying about something I could do NOTHING about while in silence . . . especially when I really wanted and needed to be focused elsewhere, I finally surrendered. I decided that either a clear money source would present itself in the coming week, or I would look to make travel arrangements to return home. That surrender happened Saturday. Sunday I moved out of the pyramids and back into La Paz, where I had been staying prior to the pyramids, and Monday morning, I got offered a full-time waitressing job. The universe can´t get much more clear than that . . .really. Apparently getting a 'job' in San Marcos is almost unheard of. There are lots of entrepreneurial ways to make money, and I intend to explore them . . . but in the mean time, the message is clear . . .I need to be here a while longer. I also have a place to live, almost for free. I will be house and cat-sitting for a friend who is going traveling. The universe does provide, we need only to ask.
So, having already signed up for a massage course for the week, and now having a full-time waitressing job in the evenings . . . I suddenly had myself a VERY busy week. Tonight I finally have a night off, and I´m off to a Sangria party for a friend who´s heading back to Britain.
The last couple of days of my retreat, while still powerful and introspective, were coloured by my increasing worry about my post-retreat plans . . . specifically in terms of where to live and how to pay for it. Life in Guatemala is extremely cheap, but it can be deceiving and easy to go through money quickly when doing the calculation all the time . . . oh, this is just $5 and that beautiful thing is only $10 . . . no problem . . . Suddenly, I discovered I had very little savings left (although I now own some beautiful Guatemalan handi-crafts, I´ve had some phenomenal body-work and an amazing month at the pyramids). But push suddenly was approaching shove, and I was aware that either money needed to start coming in, or I needed to look at heading home.
After spending far too much time worrying about something I could do NOTHING about while in silence . . . especially when I really wanted and needed to be focused elsewhere, I finally surrendered. I decided that either a clear money source would present itself in the coming week, or I would look to make travel arrangements to return home. That surrender happened Saturday. Sunday I moved out of the pyramids and back into La Paz, where I had been staying prior to the pyramids, and Monday morning, I got offered a full-time waitressing job. The universe can´t get much more clear than that . . .really. Apparently getting a 'job' in San Marcos is almost unheard of. There are lots of entrepreneurial ways to make money, and I intend to explore them . . . but in the mean time, the message is clear . . .I need to be here a while longer. I also have a place to live, almost for free. I will be house and cat-sitting for a friend who is going traveling. The universe does provide, we need only to ask.
So, having already signed up for a massage course for the week, and now having a full-time waitressing job in the evenings . . . I suddenly had myself a VERY busy week. Tonight I finally have a night off, and I´m off to a Sangria party for a friend who´s heading back to Britain.
Emerging from Silence
It´s been exactly a week since I emerged from silence. I´m still not sure how to describe my experience of that week, although if you´ve read my previous post, you know that while I may have been silent . . . my world here wasn´t. Truthfully, my own silence was far from perfect, but it was profound and beautiful.
Having had post-retreat conversations with folks who have done Vipassana or other similar silent retreats, it is clearly a very different experience. I didn´t find the going-within, being in my own mental, reflective space part of the silence so challenging. It was a welcome opportunity . . . though I noticed that like many of the other extroverts in the group, we tended to cluster, even in silence, just to share space with each other. It was interesting to see how folks hung out in the grey zone though. The first couple of days in particular, there was a lot of shoulder massage exchanging and note writing by those who were most struggling with the internal journey. . . . and then the days in between that settled into more quiet, and then the last day especially as we all geared up for the final celebration / ritual and the whispered conversations emerged.
It is the last that alludes to the most challenging part for me . . . which is that, unlike Vipassana, where your only purpose and task is to BE in silence, here we had shared tasks, a community built over 3 weeks and logistics to coordinate with each other . . . from sharing a kitchen and daily required medicinal teas, to ensuring everyone had the requisite white outfits on the last night. One lovely woman coordinated white flowers for us all to wear in our hair and as boutonnieres, etc. And, of course, after a month together . . . we needed to coordinate the post-silence celebration .. . . all done through notes left around, pointing, gesturing, smiles and nods. Probably comical to watch from the outside.
Overall, however, it was an amazing time for reflection and inner focus. Our week was loosely structured with specific places we needed to spend time in each day, and specific questions to meditate on in each of those places. It will likely be months before I have fully integrated all that I discovered, uncovered and connected with in those places. For sure I am more connected with my inner light, with the divine and with the light and beauty in all beings.
Having had post-retreat conversations with folks who have done Vipassana or other similar silent retreats, it is clearly a very different experience. I didn´t find the going-within, being in my own mental, reflective space part of the silence so challenging. It was a welcome opportunity . . . though I noticed that like many of the other extroverts in the group, we tended to cluster, even in silence, just to share space with each other. It was interesting to see how folks hung out in the grey zone though. The first couple of days in particular, there was a lot of shoulder massage exchanging and note writing by those who were most struggling with the internal journey. . . . and then the days in between that settled into more quiet, and then the last day especially as we all geared up for the final celebration / ritual and the whispered conversations emerged.
It is the last that alludes to the most challenging part for me . . . which is that, unlike Vipassana, where your only purpose and task is to BE in silence, here we had shared tasks, a community built over 3 weeks and logistics to coordinate with each other . . . from sharing a kitchen and daily required medicinal teas, to ensuring everyone had the requisite white outfits on the last night. One lovely woman coordinated white flowers for us all to wear in our hair and as boutonnieres, etc. And, of course, after a month together . . . we needed to coordinate the post-silence celebration .. . . all done through notes left around, pointing, gesturing, smiles and nods. Probably comical to watch from the outside.
Overall, however, it was an amazing time for reflection and inner focus. Our week was loosely structured with specific places we needed to spend time in each day, and specific questions to meditate on in each of those places. It will likely be months before I have fully integrated all that I discovered, uncovered and connected with in those places. For sure I am more connected with my inner light, with the divine and with the light and beauty in all beings.
Monday, January 25, 2010
The sounds of Silence: going in
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.
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.
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.
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!!!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Arriving in San Marcos La Laguna
San Marcos is BEAUTIFUL!! In stark contrast to San Pedro, San Marcos is covered in vegetation. Trees and foliage line all of the cobblestone paths (not roads . . . the gringo part of town is all walking paths, not even room for a tuk-tuk). Connecting the two main paths are dirt trails that navigate around whatever structures are in the way.
Las Piramides (http://www.laspiramidesdelka.com/) is in the middle the gringo village, surrounded by holistic healing centres, hotels and hostels. San Marcos is a healing mecca, with a bit of a new age flavour, but so far, it´s not too woo-woo.
I didn´t make a reservation for a place to stay here, and it turned out to be a more popular destination for new years than I expected. I managed, however, to get the last dorm bed in a place called La Paz, which another traveler had recommended highly. I really like it. The owner is Guatemalan, and definitely a character; dinner is served family style and there are folks hanging around chatting and being. It´s very friendly, and the gardens are STUNNING!!
I think I like San Marcos a lot.
Las Piramides (http://www.laspiramidesdelka.com/) is in the middle the gringo village, surrounded by holistic healing centres, hotels and hostels. San Marcos is a healing mecca, with a bit of a new age flavour, but so far, it´s not too woo-woo.
I didn´t make a reservation for a place to stay here, and it turned out to be a more popular destination for new years than I expected. I managed, however, to get the last dorm bed in a place called La Paz, which another traveler had recommended highly. I really like it. The owner is Guatemalan, and definitely a character; dinner is served family style and there are folks hanging around chatting and being. It´s very friendly, and the gardens are STUNNING!!
I think I like San Marcos a lot.
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