Our Spanish language school, ICA, tries to offer the students something to do in the afternoon, after classes are finished. The activities usually are intended to acquaint the student with the culture and history of Guatemala. Last week one of the activities was a trip to Fuentes Georginas, described in our Lonely Planet book as ¨the prettiest, most popular natural spa in Guatemala¨! For about $10 each, we would be offered transportation and entrance fee. Sounded like a deal!
We arrived back at school after mid-day dinner and met up with the three other students who had signed up: Jeff & Jing, young Chinese-American med students from Virginia, and Julie, a 20-year old Danish woman who speaks fluent English. Knowing virtually none of the details of the trip, we were surprised when Enrique, the director of the school, appeared and indicated that we should get into the back of his shiny Toyota pick-up truck. There was a large mattress covering the bed of the truck. We all hesitated, feeling that this was rather dangerous (and something we would NOT want our kids to do) but, like the compliant students that we are, we climbed into the truck, took some photos, got settled, and off we went.
The day was sunny and it was an adventure. We held on tightly, and tried not to breathe in the clouds of black diesel fumes that spewed forth from every big truck or bus. We climbed into the hills southwest of the city and soon were in the midst of another city of about 14,000 people, the pueblo of Almolonga, we found out later. The main road was lined with folks, all Mayan and dressed in traditional clothes. They seemed to be waiting for something. Traffic slowed, and we were forced to park along the side while a huge political parade made its way past us.
Bruce was nervous, since we had been warned to steer clear of political demonstrations. I had forgotten that and felt quite safe in our director´s care. And besides, the crowd looked friendly. The fascinating thing was that the parade was touting one party only, the Politico Partido. We had seen its many bright orange posters sporting a symbolic bold fist and a photo of its rather slick-looking candidate, Perez-Molina, described as an ex-military man and the front runner.
There was a very noisy, festive air as the parade chugged by us. Participants were outfitted in orange and ran the gamut from lines of serious young men in uniform goose-stepping in Hitler fashion to clowns, bands, a fellow on a frisky decked-out horse, young children, and dancers. Some young men, emboldened with a few beers, asked where we were from and what our names were. We took as many photos as was polite.
We were there for a half hour or so and it began to rain, lightly at first, and then quite steadily. Enrique encouraged us to get into the cab of the truck. I finally accepted, but the others stuck together in the elements. I found out from Enrique - all in Spanish, by the way - that Almolonga is a prosperous indigenous farming town and, unlike everywhere else, few of its inhabitants try go to the USA. It´s in their interest to have things remain stable, politically, and they feel that a strong president will accomplish that.
Eventually the parade petered out and we were able to get on our way. We turned onto a narrow road that began winding up and up through the hills. We passed a few Mayans caring for a solitary cow or harvesting a crop of potatoes or corn. It was still pouring rain. The road was littered in places with big rocks that had slipped down. In some places the road was partially washed out. Visibility inside the truck was not good, and, since the road dropped off steeply on one side, the ride was unnerving.
Finally we reached our destination. We all scooted out of the truck, clutching towels and swimsuits. The air was a chilly 60 degrees. We changed into our suits in a surprisingly modern cement structure and quickly slid into one of three steamy pools. Ah, it was heavenly, the warmest water that any of us had encountered - inside or out - since our arrival in Guate! The pools were empty except for us silly gringos. We were surrounded by lush vegetation hanging down from the steep hill that enveloped us. It was magic (as Kiwis like to say). We frolicked, chatted, swapped stories, stood under a rush of the superhot water gushing from another pool. for an hour. At the end of our allotted hour, we were warm and relaxed. Sitting in a one-on- one tutorial, listening intently to a foreign language, can tighten up those back and neck muscles. This was a perfect antidote!
Despite less than ideal conditions for the return trip, the mellowness stayed with us throughout the evening.
Now, we have come through the elections - Perez-Molina won but without a majority, which means there will be a run-off election in November. Tomorrow is Independence Day in Guatemala. Since Xela is the city where the treaty for all of Central America was signed with Spain, it is a very big deal here. More on that later.
Asta luegas, mis amigos (all endings agreeing here?)
We arrived back at school after mid-day dinner and met up with the three other students who had signed up: Jeff & Jing, young Chinese-American med students from Virginia, and Julie, a 20-year old Danish woman who speaks fluent English. Knowing virtually none of the details of the trip, we were surprised when Enrique, the director of the school, appeared and indicated that we should get into the back of his shiny Toyota pick-up truck. There was a large mattress covering the bed of the truck. We all hesitated, feeling that this was rather dangerous (and something we would NOT want our kids to do) but, like the compliant students that we are, we climbed into the truck, took some photos, got settled, and off we went.
The day was sunny and it was an adventure. We held on tightly, and tried not to breathe in the clouds of black diesel fumes that spewed forth from every big truck or bus. We climbed into the hills southwest of the city and soon were in the midst of another city of about 14,000 people, the pueblo of Almolonga, we found out later. The main road was lined with folks, all Mayan and dressed in traditional clothes. They seemed to be waiting for something. Traffic slowed, and we were forced to park along the side while a huge political parade made its way past us.
Bruce was nervous, since we had been warned to steer clear of political demonstrations. I had forgotten that and felt quite safe in our director´s care. And besides, the crowd looked friendly. The fascinating thing was that the parade was touting one party only, the Politico Partido. We had seen its many bright orange posters sporting a symbolic bold fist and a photo of its rather slick-looking candidate, Perez-Molina, described as an ex-military man and the front runner.
There was a very noisy, festive air as the parade chugged by us. Participants were outfitted in orange and ran the gamut from lines of serious young men in uniform goose-stepping in Hitler fashion to clowns, bands, a fellow on a frisky decked-out horse, young children, and dancers. Some young men, emboldened with a few beers, asked where we were from and what our names were. We took as many photos as was polite.
We were there for a half hour or so and it began to rain, lightly at first, and then quite steadily. Enrique encouraged us to get into the cab of the truck. I finally accepted, but the others stuck together in the elements. I found out from Enrique - all in Spanish, by the way - that Almolonga is a prosperous indigenous farming town and, unlike everywhere else, few of its inhabitants try go to the USA. It´s in their interest to have things remain stable, politically, and they feel that a strong president will accomplish that.
Eventually the parade petered out and we were able to get on our way. We turned onto a narrow road that began winding up and up through the hills. We passed a few Mayans caring for a solitary cow or harvesting a crop of potatoes or corn. It was still pouring rain. The road was littered in places with big rocks that had slipped down. In some places the road was partially washed out. Visibility inside the truck was not good, and, since the road dropped off steeply on one side, the ride was unnerving.
Finally we reached our destination. We all scooted out of the truck, clutching towels and swimsuits. The air was a chilly 60 degrees. We changed into our suits in a surprisingly modern cement structure and quickly slid into one of three steamy pools. Ah, it was heavenly, the warmest water that any of us had encountered - inside or out - since our arrival in Guate! The pools were empty except for us silly gringos. We were surrounded by lush vegetation hanging down from the steep hill that enveloped us. It was magic (as Kiwis like to say). We frolicked, chatted, swapped stories, stood under a rush of the superhot water gushing from another pool. for an hour. At the end of our allotted hour, we were warm and relaxed. Sitting in a one-on- one tutorial, listening intently to a foreign language, can tighten up those back and neck muscles. This was a perfect antidote!
Despite less than ideal conditions for the return trip, the mellowness stayed with us throughout the evening.
Now, we have come through the elections - Perez-Molina won but without a majority, which means there will be a run-off election in November. Tomorrow is Independence Day in Guatemala. Since Xela is the city where the treaty for all of Central America was signed with Spain, it is a very big deal here. More on that later.
Asta luegas, mis amigos (all endings agreeing here?)
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