Whatever happened with Anita and me in the highlands of Guatemala needs a serious recount.
So once more, I went and picked up my dear mother from some estranging and alien place, like most airports, and found her amidst the waiting crowd in the warm night air of Guatemala City. There she came purple suitcase in tow. Soon we were zooming of in our first ride together, and my first time getting an Uber. The empty streets of the capital were yellow and still. and we jumped out on the main square, right in front of the national whatever building, all tall and proud sculpted barok. We stayed in La Poeta, a fancy little guesthouse with two inner courtyards, fake plastic grass 'n all. Next morning, we made for Antigua, not caring to stay in "the hole" as some people uncaringly call the city any longer than necessary.
Antigua received us well though, The sprawling market we explored next day, together with Annelinde and Matzi, who stayed in the same hostel as us, on their way south to Panama. These were the days of the great cold wave that took the lives of several on the nearby volcano, surprised by fog and under equipped, they died in the dark of night, on the fiery mountain. The fire we saw, sprouting from the not too distant summit. A red fountain over the lights of the city, ever such a sweet reminder of natures awesome force.
We shopped for a woolen blanket, got electronically enlightened with a net headlamp and informed ourselves of what our next move might be and where. I remember much avocado parties of rich guacamole and crispy tostadas, topped with refried bean paste and fresh veg.
And making an excursion to a nearby hot spring which wasn't actually hot anymore, but rather cool, yet, the valley was nice and we met some real interested and friendly El Salvadorians, and a ride back in the back of a pickup for free as desert.
Next day we took several busses through the more untraveled parts of this Mayan land, coming to towns where few of our kind are ever seen. Crossing the homes of a proud and defiant tribe of Maya who have their capital in Rabinal. We crashed not much further, arriving in the hustle and bustle of a market cleaning up after a long day. We Tok the first hotel we spotted and found a warm welcome by a friendly older man who spoke excellent English. All shine and glimmer our room, tiled and chromed adornments and a large fake ming vape to keep us company. Anita was to tired to still go out, so I want and fetched some empanadas and chiles rellenos. Filled fried things both, and slept well soon after.
Next day we rose early and took a bus to Coban, capital of the southern highlands. Af we were waiting for our micro to depart, some 6 big baskets full of turkeys were leaded on top, where they defied the wind, proud beaks and bald neck protruding through the mesh of their carriage. Before we got to Coban however, we passed the Biosfera del Quetzal. Thick cloudforest and mists surrounded us. And in a sudden whim, we jumped out and took a tub tub to the nearest eco lodge. This was a good idea it turned out, as many impulsive actions can be. Already as we were waiting for our room we saw 3 different kinds of hummingbirds and many butterflies. The Air was thick with moisture and smelled green and alive.
That day we walked to some beautiful waterfalls and even got to see a quetzal or two. A little green bird, nice, yet a bird still. The forrest here is full of vines and tree ferns, the soil meters thick and everything seems to breath. From yet another posh room we looked out over the green valley, big trucks tearing up the silence beneath us, but never the silence within.On it went, to Samuc Shampey now. Or at least, close to it. So many plans I'd made before she arrived, they had not included to just be, sit and feel content.
We stayed in the last town before the road to Samuc turned to a dirt track. A broad valley with the great brown river winding its way through that also passes Samuc. We Shared a nice Cabana on a steep green hillside almost surrounded by the river, and had the unfortunate to have arrived on this hostels party night. Luckily next day everyone left and we were the only guests in the whole place.
We explored the huge caves here, the origin of the river. So adventuresque and awesome. A rocky path led up and over many stalactite and mite formations, come as large as castle towers, all under the high ceiling of this limestone expanded. Yellow lamps lit our path until it descended into darkness,
where it would continue for many hundreds of meters more, perhaps, but not to our eyes. Instead we picked up our papaya that we had left at the cave entrance that we had already acquired for our Bombastic Banana Boat Breakfast, and made for home base.
Samuc, Than, is a well known and much photographed natural miracle, so much in fact, that I will not attempt to add my visual impressions here. It is a Limestone bridge over a river, several hundred meters long, where the river water runs under, as well as over the bridge, in e series of clear natural pools most suitable for swimming and enjoying oneself at leisure in the midst of all the natural wonder. We were, of course, not alone there. This being one of Guatemala's main attractions, company was abundant, but it bothered us not. The ride there alone made it all worth while, over rugged forested ridges where people live in bamboo huts and cacao trees lined the muddy orange road. We swam, enjoyed, had a lunch of chocobanana ice cream and rice with black beans, and that was that.
Back to copan, away from the lush green lowlands that cradled Sampey now, back to the high reaches of the mayan heartland. The place also, where not too long ago the land was scorched and torn up bu the Guatemalan Civil war. Why it was called civil I know not. Because it was practically the army fighting the mayan population, trying to continue the regime the Spanish installed when they enslaved the locals for their own benefit.This gruesome history was continuously with me as I looked at these people, heard their voices, saw their worn hands, and could only feel pity for all the ruined lives of these folks who have not been allowed to live and prosper for the last half Millenium, at the mercy of their invaders.
After two nights in Coban, where a sudden illness betook my mother, we crossed over westward. Luckily her dis ease passed violently but quickly, and we were able to continue to the remote town of Nebaj. All women were dressed in deep blue wraparound skirts and their Huipiles or blouses were beautifully adorned with patterns of birds and flowers, Deep red and purple the base fabric. They told us that it could take many weeks to embroider one of these miracles, and I soon believe it.
We went to an even smaller town one morning, known for its colorful market. And as soon as we got out of the micro, we were stunned. with our unnatural dutch hight even Aniet could easily look over the assembly, and we saw that is was good. Not a single woman wore anything but traditional dress. All red and colors we saw, and most men, even though not in Mayan clothes, anyway adhere to a very strict jeans, shirt and white cowboy hat style, that developed in war times so as not t be a target for the military. Look normal, don't look mayan, and maybe you'd survive.
We wandered and were gobsmacked by the beauty of all this color. The natural ness which which it all went. The busy market with it's many small stars. Old grandmas just sitting on the floor with a pile of carrots or Huiskil, the local vegetable resembling some kind of crossing between a cucumber, a zucchini and a potato. We did't actually buy anything.
It's not about the getting of stuff.
What is this life?
What is a life?
Knowing people?
Collecting stuff?
I believe doing is of much more importance.
And than the volition, with which what one does is done,
is paramount over all.
Live, for Experience
It was a journey, this, that we undertook together. And so, filled with appreciation for all this tribal beauty, we went on, to Quetzaltenango now, Once, apparently home to the illustrious Quetzal. We landed in Casa Argentina. A notorious travelers crib where I'd stayed before some 12 years back, No quetzals there now, but some incredibly loud talking parrots in a cage had taken their place. Being a extensive complex with many different rooms around a raised courtyard, we managed to score a room with city view. The volcano behind us, wrapped in shrouds of nebula, the same one we had come suddenly come out of as we entered the geological depression, in which Xela nestles. Not caring to hang around between the concrete too much, next day we made a trip to some hot springs. Still not very ho, butt noticeably warmer than our first try in Antigua, we sat in the iridescent waters looking up at the fern clad rocks and flowering trees that surrounded us in this narrow valley. A cafe was built almost on top of the pool and since it was weekend, it was loaded with Guatemalans on their family outing. It was an experience though, and as we drove back, the clouds lifted slightly to allow us a peek at the majestic cone of the local volcano and the valley that had been all but invisible to us on the way up.
No more straying after that.
To the Lake. Yes, of course.
The lake it must be.
Why straddle if one can be in one of the recognized most beautiful lakes on the planet. Crater,
vortex,
sinking point.
My home,
for a splinter of this life
What are we but wanderers, attracted to the light of god, the celestial center, without and within.
Nomads or castle builders, working at the manifestation of something beautiful.
A permanent house in Her lap, in the hand of the Buddha, within our own hearts.
To open that door. The portal of the heart truly is one of my greatest chalenges.
Again, every day. No breaks given other than those moments where one meets it's Creation.
This is something, that this hole in reality, hole in the earth, hole in time,
Helps, and has helped many with, and me likewise.
We were here for a few days. Staying in the lovely house of a friend, So quite, so peaceful. Swimming in the blue waters, warming in that crazy bright sun. It was January yes, But doesn't it remind one of early summer?
How blissful those days. Last of this trip before I brought her back to the city.
It had been a wonderful trip. Seems like we didn't do very much, but it sure felt like a lot.
Walking in a nearby park on many a suspension bridge flying between the tall trees over a narrow canyon we saw howler monkeys and some kind of Makis those cat like things with long black 'n white tails and curious eyes, although I always thought those were from Africa.
No we did not climb any volcano, nor did we go rafting, or made it to the nearby Caribbean sea.
We did't do many things we might have. But it was all good. We were happy and content, and when we said goodbye on the morning of her departure, there was only joy.
Airports.......so bizarre, so unreal, so unnatural. Why, do we create such strange places, where nobody really feels at ease?
...........
That. was almost two months ago.
Why have I not written since?
I have been absorbed. Absorbed into the Life at the Yoga Forest, where I now live.
A community yoga retreat space with a permaculture garden and an ever shifting crowd of students, volunteers, visitors and teachers.
Starting as a Permaculture worker, I now have the honor to facilitate the operation of this place.
Of course we all make this happen together.
My task to make it run smoothly, so that others may manifest their full potential.
Up here, in the valley, life is quite and dynamic. I'm eating as healthy as I ever have, and I am surrounded by an intimate group of dear friends.
Clouds come and go, inside as well as outside.
Where is that hazy frontier gone, the separation of worlds?
Unity I see, or least, I try to be open.
I feel love and love is shared with me,
Opening the Heart
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