Fourth Week in Antigua

This was the fourth week in Antigua for both of us, but it was the last week for Br. John. And it was a short week. Last Monday (July 25th) was the day that Antigua celebrated its original name day - St. James, or Santiago - and all the schools in town were closed, including the language schools. But there was plenty going on in town.

Two of the major public events were the two parades, one in the morning and the other in the late afternoon. The morning one was the very long one, with all the schools of the city represented through bands, student groups, pious displays, the equivalent of prom queens and kings, along with a host of other things. Seeing Miss Teen Antigua in the plaza that morning, Br. John commented on the dubious privilege of competing so as to be able to walk through cobble-stoned streets in high-heels. It's clear that this whole thing is a long-standing occasion and everyone gets into it. All the students from Colegio La Salle lined the main street during the parade, with their logo wear quite prominent, cheering on their band and generally having a good time.

That evening, another approaching band drew my attention and I went outside to investigate. The shorter evening parade was approaching. Led by dressed-up characters and representatives of the society overseeing the parade, this was a giant float with the statue of Santiago, taken from his normal location in the cathedral and placed on this 1000 lbs. platform. Those carrying the float looked to be students from various schools, and they would switch out with another group after going a certain distance. The whole thing took very careful planning and supervision, since it was like moving a schoolbus-sized float with 40 drivers. But it went off without a hitch, with the civic band bringing up the rear and breaking out into a Souza march every now and again.

Br. John had a new teacher this week, Mercedes, and so he planned to attend school on Tuesday. Br. Francisco had invited us to join him and Julio for a trip to Lake Atitlan, since Tuesday was a holiday for the school. I decided to go along, using my rule: "Do that which you would most regret not having done later." I don't follow the rule all of the time, but this time I did and I'm glad I did.

We left very early in the morning and drove north. Along the way we stopped at a popular road-side restaurant for a traditional breakfast. Inside, I was reminded of a lodge in Yosemite. In the corner, but fairly prominent, were two ladies who were making tortillas without stopping. And when you received your tortillas, you could tell that they were right from the grill. It was a fine way to begin the day.

After a lot of driving, the lake was in front of us and we stopped to admire the view and to take a few pictures. Every nook and cranny along the road had vendors lined up, ready to sell you something. But they were nice enough and after a while we simply drove on to our destination, Panajachel, one of the lakeside towns. The place was real busy around the market, but the beach area was practically abandoned. Apparently, the action doesn't really begin until later in the day, and this tourist season hasn't been all that good anyway. We parked the car and were immediately offered a place to eat, a boat ride, a tour, whatever. Francisco and Julio are pros at this and simply feigned some interest.

After speaking with one man, we were led to one of the private boats and they negotiated a price to travel across the lake. If we'd taken the "public" boat, it would have taken half a day to get to Santiago Atitlan, our destination, since that boat stops at every town along the lake (and there are 12, with all of them - except Panajachel - named for the apostles). It was great to have a private ride across the lake on a wonderful day with a steady breeze and a great temperature. The lake was practically deserted, with only the occasional boat far away.

On the other side, we made our way into Santiago Atitlan, where we spent some time wandering the little streets, stopping by various vendors, and generally enjoying the atmosphere. We visited the ancient parish church, dating back to the early 1500's, where an American priest was martyred some 25 years ago and is still remembered and venerated. One of the photographs I took includes a lens flare that appears above the banner of him that hangs outside the church. Inside, even though it was morning, a number of people were praying. The place was still decorated for the feast of Santiago, since that had also been their patronal feast the day before. Outside, a carnival had been set up for the evening's activities.

Gradually we leisurely made our way back to the dock and from there back across the lake. The gas for the outboard motor ran dry in the middle of the lake, but the boat operator had an extra can of gasoline handy. It would have been an interesting adventure to be marooned in the middle of Lake Atitlan for a while. Once back on the other side, we drove back to Antigua, stopping at another restaurant for our lunch. This one was also quite impressive - although very reasonably priced - with a wide open kitchen when you walk in, and seating areas radiating out from that central kitchen. We returned to the community in good time to have a short siesta before evening prayer.

Classes continued as usual as the week progressed. Yes, that is the main reason I'm here, but it makes dry reading for a blog. My understanding of Spanish is improving bit by bit, especially when my teacher is able to make connections between a variety of word forms or sentence structures. It's those kinds of relationships that I find most helpful. Not that I think about those rules all the time, but I believe that for adults, rules or relationships provide a supportive structure around which we can build our conversation journeys. That's what's working for me right now, anyway.

On Thursday, John and I and our teachers were invited to join a group going to a local pueblo called San Juan del Obispo, where there is a convent that used to be the bishop's residence and where there are many shops and craft tiendas. So we decided to take the class on the road. Each of us continued to talk with our teachers, and they continued to teach us, only now using the experience itself as the basis for our conversation.

I thought that we were going to take a camioneta again, but instead an apparently full van stopped and we were all urged to stuff ourselves into it. The place was a sardine can, but it seemed to work. I counted 25 people in that converted van, all quite cozy (if you like that sort of thing). Thankfully, the journey was short and soon we piled out near the old convent and had a tour from one of the sisters there. After the extensive tour, which included the preserved rooms of the former archbishop, we were led to a nearby house where the man made wines out of various fruits. We were urged to take samples, but John and I decided not to participate. (We were prejudiced for the grape, don't you know.) That little visit took a while, but gradually we left and went to another house where the proprietor was the third generation to make chocolate from scratch. She showed us the entire process, complete with samples, and many of us ended up buying chocolate blocks. Who can resist?

The final stop was at a carpenteria, which took a little searching. At the time, they were making bookcases and serving trays. One of the workers gave a complete description of the process (in Spanish, of course, always in Spanish) while John wandered around the shop like a kid in a candy shop. He's a long-standing woodworker and enjoyed being in his element. He asked questions, tried some of the tools, and checked out the wood. His judgment: a pretty good place. Then it was back to school in a real, relatively roomy camioneta and on to the afternoon classes.

On Saturday, John had arranged for the two of us to take the bird-watching tour at Filadelphia, a local coffee plantation that is covers over 650 acres of the valley and hillsides, reaching way up into the cloud forests above Antigua. We were picked up at 5:00 AM outside of our door and spent the subsequent 7.5 hours wandering around their very impressive property (coffee factory, 5-star hotel, restaurant, recreation facilities, horses, etc.). Our guide, Roberto, was an avid bird watcher himself. As he was driving he would often stop and point out a bird he'd noticed from the cab. The other passenger was Carlos, our guard. Against what, I don't know.

Every once in a while we would stop and walk around a bit, waiting for birds or following their songs in the hopes of seeing one. We heard many more birds than we saw. Both Roberto and John could pick out particular species simply by their song. I thought their music was nice but often could go no further. We spent a good deal of time at an observation deck that doubled as a restaurant on the weekends, and later on went up into the high country (8,300 feet) and the cloud forest. Lots of lush vegetation there, along with natural orchids, dense undergrowth, and chiggers (more later). We would walk the paths or follow the songbirds, gratified with just a peek of one of them. John thought it was great simply to be able to see so much of the property and the natural surroundings.

The following day, and especially today, the evidence of that journey is tattooed on the lower half of my body. The chiggers (or niguas, as they call them here) have implanted themselves in about 100-150 places on my skin. They're less than a millimeter big, so you can't really see them. But I can sure see the evidence of their presence - worse than mosquito bites and itchy / painful to a significant degree; reminds me of poison oak. Apparently, this will last for two weeks with the main symptoms lessening after 3-4 days. All I know is that right now it's almost impossible to sleep, let alone lie down. But I'll spare you the gruesome details. Suffice it to say that next time, if there is a next time, that I go somewhere "natural" or with tall grasses, I'll take all my clothing and wash it immediately after such a trip, along with taking other measures.

On Saturday evening, we went to Mass next door at La Merced. Right next door, at the arch, they were having a political rally with music, speeches, bombas, and everything else thrown in. It was a rather interesting experience of our contemporary church to have the priest drowned out occasionally by loud explosions, music, and speeches. Thankfully, the homily was short. Afterwards, we were in time to see the fireworks, which were sent up from the street. OSHA would have had a field day.

On Sunday, we had a goodbye party for John. That afternoon, he had taken the community out for lunch - we took a community photo on the street along the way - and that evening the Brothers decided to have a little fiesta for him. It was a fine evening affair outside along the courtyard of the house, with the sharing of favorite songs, stories, and the like. Between the Spanish we knew and the Spanish that we should know, we did just fine.

This morning, at 5:00 AM, John was picked up outside of the house and brought to the airport for his journey home. We said hasta la vista and that was that. It was great to travel here with him and to share our time together in Antigua. Now we just have to speak Spanish to each other when we're both back in Napa.

For more photos than you might like, with their captions, click on the slideshow below:

A Weekend in Tikal - Guatemala

Part of our humanity seems to be our capacity to be inspired beyond our expectations, and while this may happen more frequently than not, it still seems to be new every time it happens. The trigger could be a daily scene, an encounter with a set of puppies, a stirring verbal exhortation, or an amazing natural vista. They are each unique catalysts towards an integration of sights, sounds, feelings, history, and thoughts that soon swell into a "something more" than we thought possible. And since each is utterly unique, comparison is fruitless and simply unimportant.

Our visit to Tikal was one such experience during our stay here in Antigua. It's an experience that also seems to require very early rising, by the way. On Saturday morning, we were standing in front of the house in Antigua at 4:00 AM in the early morning darkness and almost complete silence, with just a dog wandering down the street, a passing police truck whose occupants waved to us (I'm sure they knew exactly what we were about), and a couple of weaving men at the corner having a cigarette and gesturing to one another. After a couple of minutes of standing, a tour van appeared and soon enough John, myself, and the other passenger (Lindsey) were on our way to Guatemala City and the early morning flight to Flores, the nearest town to Tikal.

Thankfully, TAG airlines had facilities on the other side of the Guatemala City international airport, so we were saved from long lines. There were no seat numbers, just a boarding pass with a 1, 2, 3, or 4 on them. An hour or so after arriving, our group was called and directed to a small plane - open seating. Then it was off into the air, the little plane slewing from side to side, and the 45 minute flight to Flores. Once there, the helpful taxi drivers and hotel drivers outside the terminal pointed us to the person with the "Tikal Inn" bus, and an hour later (he had to wait for another flight) we made the 90-minute drive to the park, with "Nixon" our tour guide talking most of the way in Spanish and in fairly good English.

At the Tikal Inn, within the park itself, we checked into our little cabana by the pool and settled in. The "regular" tour would begin 20 minutes later and go for 3-4 hours, visiting 70% of the park. Then the afternoon and following day were meant to be for visiting local shops and the like. The other option, which we chose, was to "upgrade" to an evening tour and an early morning tour, covering the park at a more leisurely pace and avoiding the crowds (600 people on average per day). Since John was particularly interested in watching birds, the evening tour was the better option.

There was no regular electricity at the Tikal Inn, but the generator was run in the early mornings and from 7:30 - 10:00 PM at night. While most of the group went on tour, John and I wandered around the property, he looking for birds and myself checking out the visitors center and buying a floppy hat for the hot, humid, insect-happy environment. The midday meal was provided as part of the package, and here we were well surprised. The food was exceptional in every way. Nothing fancy, but very fresh and well-prepared. From what I could tell, they use orange and lime juice more than we might, and that makes a big difference. It's a fine place to stay, especially since in the park itself. (Tikal Inn Website) After lunch, a bit of siesta and then the tour.

Our tour commenced around 4:00 PM, and the nine of us on the tour met Abel in the lobby. He was a very interesting character, clearly knowledgeable and of wide experience. He spoke loudly and had a somewhat aggressive personality, although very polite and solicitous of everyone in the group. We ended up being with him for some seven hours total, so I think most of us became used to his ways. He'd grown up at Tikal, had studied accounting, had returned after the civil war - where he'd lost some siblings and been in jail - and had become a tour guide. He said he was too lazy and preachy to be anything else at this point.

The tour experience was well laid out, staring with innocent enough things (crocodile pond nearby, scale models of Tikal, nearby vegetation) and moved to some of the smaller, half-repaired parts of the site. Gradually, we came to the big stuff. And these were impressive. You would see them from a bit away, jutting up out of the canopy - everyone froze in their tracks to take their first photographs. Then we'd approach more slowly, turn a corner, and there they were in all their ruinous grandeur. As we moved along, Abel would point out things in the jungle, tell us about Mayan history, pick up obsidian nuggets and pieces of pottery from the ground, find an insect we'd never be able to see, and the like. We were gradually being initiated into the world of the Maya, where the library of nature reigned supreme.

One of the things that struck me was that most of the 20 (?) square miles that houses the park is still very much a jungle. It's only in a few places that vegetation has been cleared and reconstruction has taken place. Between the various sites, you walk along small paths, some of them along old 50-wide ancient canals (the burms are visible in the jungle on the sides) where other life predominates. And with a purported 3,000 buildings within the entire complex, they haven't even begun to scratch the surface of the potential archaeological riches under the ground. Of the buildings that have been "cleaned up" only a few have undergone reconstruction; most of it paid for by Japan. For many of them, what you see is what was there.

The plan worked out so that we could be on top of the largest building, Temple IV, at sunset. Thankfully, we didn't have to climb the stone steps - steep, high, and precipitous. A sturdy staircase had been introduced on the side of the temple, and 182 steps later we were on the top level, overlooking the jungle canopy and seeing the sun sink beneath the clouds. I ended up sitting on the opposite side, overlooking the tops of Temple I and Temple II, since that was really the impressive scene. Looking over those trees, sitting at the apex of the largest temple and seeing the tops of the other temples as the sun was setting, one thought many thoughts, none making much sense - but that was okay in this kind of setting. Not only thoughts about the people who dwelt here from 800 BC until 700 AD, but also about why they moved elsewhere and left everything behind. The most popular theory has to do with drought and simple migration. A shaky video of my arrival on top of Temple IV is here.

We walked back in the dark through the jungle along a different path, one that was really a small trail. There were interesting sounds every once in a while from the wall of green on each side. It's amazing to think that if any one of us had veered off the path for even 10 feet, we'd be utterly lost. Once back at the Tikal Inn, we took our showers since the heat and humidity had been intense. John decided not to do the early morning hike but simply to go bird watching on his own, and pretty soon we were both zonked out, fast asleep.

Although John had forgotten to set his alarm for 3:30 AM so that I could join the early bird crowd, I woke up at 3:38 AM when I heard sounds outside. The rooms had thatched roofs and open-air "windows" all around, with screens thankfully, so that you heard everything from the outside. What had awakened me were the others going to the lobby for the 4 AM departure. I hurried to get dressed in the dark (no electricity, remember) and got to the lobby in time to have a cup of coffee that Abel had prepared. At least it tasted like coffee in the dark.

Then off we went along a different path to go back to Temple IV, the one furthest away in park. This time, Nixon came along quietly too, staying at the front while Abel kept up the rear. This turned out to be a good thing, since one person in our party was a bit overweight and elderly needed to go more slowly. An hour or so later, hiking in that dark jungle, we reached the stairs and made our way to the top of Temple IV where the now-familiar area was quickly covered with quiet folks watching the darkness before us.

This is the experience that I'll remember for a long time. As the night turned to grey dawn and the mist lightened, you could hear Howler monkeys sounding their deep-throated, gurgling calls from very far away, interspersed by 3 - 5 seconds of silence. Then another troupe would respond some distance away. And so it went for 15 - 20 minutes, echoing throughout the jungle canopy and gradually getting louder and moving more closely. Then all of a sudden, a troupe that seemed not 100 yards away began their roaring as well. It was as if someone had cranked up the stereo. At one point, there was a sonic track of Howler money calls reaching from my near left to the far right, punctuated by a profound silence, with an expanding view of the jungle canopy and an increasingly lighter mist that hung over everything. (Temples I and II were obscured entirely and we never saw them.) Once it had become lighter, the sounds changed and the monkey calls from far away began to stop or fade away. But the bird chatter began. It was as if all the bass instruments in an orchestra had carried the theme, brought it to a crescendo and were now gradually handing it over to the flutes. A wide variety of bird sounds filled the air, sharing the sonic spectrum for a while with the Howlers but then dominating the dawn and filling it with eager anticipation of the day.

Once it was light enough to move around, Able pointed out a number of bird species to me, most of which I forgot. I do however remember the Keel-Billed Toucan (the beak is shaped like a boat keel, hence the name), two of which were poised on a dead tree below us. And there was red-crowned song bird not 20 feet away from the top platform in a nearby tree, singing its little heart out. Just before leaving, we heard the resident hawk take off, screeching across the canopy on its daily rounds.

Somewhat reluctantly, we left Temple IV and continued our tour now that it was light. Since it was still quite early, we pretty much had the place to ourselves, and for the next couple of hours we visited a variety of sites and Able told us a lot about the Mayan system of counting, their astronomy, and some of their religious practices. Basically, you don't want to play their "volleyball" game, and you certainly don't want to lose. If you do, you're painted blue and beheaded. Puts a whole new twist on "sore loser" doesn't it? The Mayan cosmology, let along its culture, are as fascinating as they are mysterious. You could spend a lifetime studying them and still only scratch the surface. Just think of how strange we think our own culture was when we look at photographs from some 50-100 years ago. Project that about 2500 years back and you've got a cultural chasm that lies beyond our ken.

One of the things we did was pursue a nearby troupe of Howler monkeys, walking into the jungle and following their calls, most of which were responses to the calls that Abel made - and he did a pretty darn good imitation. Finally, they were right above us, excited as can be, thinking that we were poaching their territory. Of course all we poached were pictures.

We got back to the Tikal Inn at around 8:30 AM. Abel had done a fine job in showing us around. He'd been dropping hints about tips all along and most if not all the people in the group gave him a 5-10 dollar tip, which he appreciated. In that environment, every little bit helps.

John had spent his time bird-watching but had waited for me to return so that we could have breakfast together. Again, it was a wonderful meal. I was especially impressed with the syrup for the pancakes. John was asking the waiters about some birds he had seen, and they were kindly trying to figure out what he was asking and looking at the pictures he was pointing to in his bird-watching book. Finally, a lady at a nearby table cutting a melon section into tiny pieces (for the Coati in her room) came over and explained, in very good English, what John wanted to know. Her name was Roxy and she was a naturalist who gave tours in the area and knew at least as many birds as John did.

John, being the friendly guy he is, soon had her engaged in a conversation about birds, and we ended up talking with her quite a while. John asked if she would do a morning naturalist tour of the area with us, since we wouldn't be leaving the Tikal Inn until 2:30 PM, and she agreed to spend a couple of hours with us. And so we had a wonderful "extra" tour by this naturalist and archaeologist who really knew her stuff. She'd spent six years in Atlanta during her high school years and knew English real well, although it took a while to lose the southern accent that tour groups found funny ("If y'all look at that there pay-ra-mid ..."). She took us all around the property, to places we'd passed by earlier and didn't know existed, pointing out native birds from 100 yards away with her naked eye, highlighting vegetation and medicinal herbs, pointing out animal tracks in the mud, tracking a rare bird that they had both heard but couldn't find even after 30 minutes of quiet movement into the trackless part of the jungle. This little excursion was one of the highlights of the trip.

The thing that I particularly liked is the "formula" she gave for that breakfast syrup. It wasn't maple syrup at all but was made from Allspice. Abel had crushed up Allspice leaves on the tour and had each of us smell it. Roxy pointed out that the Allspice berries, which we can get in the U.S. are what's used for this "miel" as they call it. You take a handful of Allspice berries, put it in about 2 cups of water and let it sit for 3 hours, letting the berries expand into the water. Then you heat it up, filter it, add sugar and cinnamon, and reduce it down to a syrup-like consistency. Now you have wonderful syrup for pancakes and the like. I know I'm going to try this one when I get home.

As a kicker for our "extra" naturalist tour, Roxy took us to the back of the the Tikal Inn, where the staff is housed, and brought out two juvenile Coati. These are of the ant-eater family, and these two little buggers would not have survived if Roxy hadn't taken them from the wild. She's now their "mother" and they follow her around like puppies. She's bottle-feeding them, and as they were exploring the grass around her, she would catch the occasional cricket and feed it to one of them. Her plan is to wait until they are beyond bottle feeding and then re-introduce them to one of the Coati troupes that live among the ruins. Since these are two females, the troupe will very likely adopt them and "educate" them as their natural mother would have. We stayed out there talking about nature and Coati and taking care of wild animals for a while and then went back to the restaurant for a bit of refreshment (I had my second Licuado, made of papaya and milk and ice; much better than my first).

If you know of folks who would like to see Tikal or any other Mayan site, have them contact the Tikal Inn and ask for Roxzanda Ortiz (Roxy). As an archaeologist, naturalist, and guide with 32 years of experience, she can arrange and guide trips in Tikal or other remote sites such as Nakbe, Nakum, Yaxha, Mirador, and a host of others. John and I would recommend her very highly.

Soon enough the bus was loaded and we were on our way back to Flores and our return flight, this time on a slightly larger plane.

So that was the trip. Lots of words, I know, but realize that there's a lot more behind the words and I'm only sharing tidbits of the experience. The more interesting impressions may be found in the photographs below (click on the photographs in order to go through them individually, with their captions):

Third Week in Antigua

It's Friday evening, and I figured that I had better do the blog entry now rather than tomorrow, since tomorrow we're scheduled to leave for our weekend trip to Tikal, a famous set of Mayan ruins that lie in the jungle about 45 minutes away by plane. We will be back on Sunday evening. Since we don't have class on Monday (it's a holiday in Antigua), this was the weekend to go to Tikal.

Early in the week, the "main drag" in Antigua was taken over by a Guatemalan television station celebrating a major anniversary. They would be filming their news programs (6 PM and 10 PM) from the main street in Antigua. And so a huge tent and stage were constructed on the spot, electricity mains were piped in, and that evening there was lots of noise from the street. I didn't go out to check it out, but I certainly heard it all in my bedroom in the house, especially their midnight fireworks. It's one of things that goes with living so closely to the center of town. This is true generally on the weekends. Right now, for example, various parties in the area, groups in the street, and musical events in houses nearby are creating a cacophony that I'm sure I'll hear in my room until at least midnight. I'd put on earplugs, except that I wouldn't hear the 3 AM alarm for our 4 AM departure for Tikal.

Last Monday, I was surprised to learn that I would have a new teacher at San Jose el Viejo. Apparently, the school shuffles teachers around week by week, according to a variety of factors, including preferences expressed by returning students and the like. At first, I was a bit upset, but I soon warmed up to my new teacher, Silvia, and within two days found her to be just the right person to take my lessons to the next level. All through the week we have been proceeding via conversations in Spanish - halting on my part, clearly and slowly on hers - along with exercises, new material, quizzes, and the organization of the information that I've absorbed so far. One of her talents is the ability to connect various pieces of learning from the last two weeks and to highlight patterns in the language. I hope to be able to continue with her for another week and then perhaps move to yet another teacher for the last two weeks.

The days have passed quickly, and there are just a few things to highlight outside of class time. Each day, John and I spend the 30-minute break in the morning walking around the neighborhood, trying new streets every day. At noon, when his class ends, I take a 15-minute break inside the property and then return to the cubicle I've been in all morning (since 8 AM) for another session. I finish at 1:30 and make my way home for almuerzo with the Brothers.

On Tuesday, on my way home, the road was blocked by a long procession or parade that made its way through the central plaza area and consisted entirely of young students from, as far as I could tell, schools dedicated to indigenous populations. Kids were dressed in all sorts of costumes or uniforms, carried statues or other processional items, were led by a band, and generally seemed quite at ease walking down the middle of the street in organized groups. The procession was related to the fact that on July 25th, Antigua celebrates its patronal feast, Santiago (St. James), and the whole town takes a holiday. The parade was one of the events leading up the headliner next Monday. It was fun to watch the groups walks by and to take photos as they happened, By my estimate, the procession was about two football fields in length. I was late for lunch.

On Wednesday, John and I took an afternoon excursion to Santa Domingo, where we had been before when we took Elizabeth Bell's tour. On the way, we stopped by her travel agency to confirm our plans for this weekend. At Santa Domingo, we took our time walking around the various ruins, and although we didn't pay to enter the museums there, we did see lots of interesting parts of that old Dominican monastery, now a slick hotel and conference center.

It's a bit amazing to notice the variety of contrasts here in Antigua, as I'm sure is the case for the rest of Latin America. On the way back, we stopped by the Dona Luisa Cafe for an afternoon refreshment and I tried a "licuado" (papaya, if you must know) for the first time. Quite nice.

On Friday afternoon, the students from the school put on a musical performance in the main square. It was the history of Antigua and included singing, dancing, drama, and audience participation. Brother Francisco was in his element, running around taking pictures, talking with students, teachers, and parents, and generally enjoying himself and others. The performance lasted about an hour. At the end, the students came into the crowd, handing out flowers to the women and little flags to whomever would take them. Then the girls coaxed guys out onto the pavement for impromptu dancing to the music that was provided. Everyone seemed to have a terrific time. The students were all sophomores and had been preparing for this event for many weeks. If you'd like to see a short video I took of the event, click here.

Some of the symbolism in the drama has been lost on me, unfortunately, but I got the general idea. There are mythical figures, historical figures, and generally "fun" figures. At one point, a student with some sort of figure on his head (I think he's supposed to be a bull) is set alight, and fire crackers go off right above his head for quite some time while other students jump around him or symbolically hit his feet with pieces of fabric. I don't quite know what it all means, and parts of it seem to be a bit unsafe, but there you have it. When in Rome ...

Tonight (Friday), we also celebrated Br. Carlos' 62nd birthday in the community. Other festivities will occur on the weekend, apparently, and we should catch the tail end of the big party planned for Sunday afternoon. We had a very enjoyable dinner this evening and a terrific cake (with cafe and flan and other things in it). The interesting thing for me is that I'm beginning to figure out more and more of what others are saying in Spanish. It's not 100 percent by any means, but my ability to comprehend is gradually expanding. It's like that great quotation from Herbert McCabe: "As we understand a mystery, it enlarges our capacity for understanding." That's as true of language study as it is of anything else initially, or perhaps essentially, mysterious.

Totally unrelated tidbit: Earlier in the week I was surfing the internet and found a wonderful little video on Youtube from a Michael Buble concert in England. If you're interested in music and people's potential, you might enjoy it too - Here.

I'm sure that I'll have a lot of pictures and the like after our Tikal adventure. Stay tuned.

More pictures than you might want below (click on any of them to go to the photo album itself and see the captions for each of pictures).

Second Week in Antigua

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting in the courtyard, just outside of my room, and simply enjoying the fact that I was here. The clouds were clear (for now ... it rains every day), the temperature mild, and from the TV room came the voice of an excited Spanish commentator describing the action of one of the quarter-finals of the America's Cup (soccer, that is, not sailing). I'm surrounded by all things Spanish and it's better than okay.

The major part of this week has, of course, been spent in school learning Spanish. And it doesn't stop when we come home. The morning and evening prayers are in Spanish, and all of our conversations with the Brothers and others here are in Spanish. In the process, our ears are becoming more familiar with the flow of the language. Most speakers we encounter speak very fast. It's really only the teachers and those who know that we are just learning who speak more slowly.

The highlights of this week include the school trip on Thursday to a Mayan cultural center and coffee plantation, and the Friday trip to a nearby private forest featuring a bird-watching path for avid bird watchers such as Br. John. And then the weekend with further unexpected activities.

Early in the week, Br. Julio took us for an evening tour of sixteen classrooms in the school, each of which had students preparing their "project" for the rest of the studentbody. They transformed their classroom into one into which groups of student would come the following day in order to learn about some social problem or concern. It was the students' job to make the "class" interesting, appealing, and convincing. Clearly, they were well into creating something special for their fellow students, staying late into the night to transform their classroom into a small theater that followed their theme. They would be evaluated on the following day when the school day consisted of students having their "classes" in a rotating fashion among all these special classrooms and displays.

It was a great way to tap into the creative potential of students, to have their studies come to a specific focus and task, and to engage the rest of the student body with the results of their research and preparation. On the following day, we had a short visit once more to see some of the finished preparations.

On Thursday, our Spanish school sponsored an outing with our teachers to a coffee plantation and cultural center here in Antigua. We took a rented camioneta - called a "chicken bus" by some, but not by me - and spent the morning listening, observing, and reading signs and explanations. All the while, our teachers were at our sides, continuing their lessons with us. The great advantage was that the guides were well trained to use simple language and to speak slowly and distinctly. John said that he understood virtually everything that the guides told us.

The first section dealt with Mayan musical instruments, both pre-colonial and post-colonial. It was all interesting stuff, and our guide was able to play pretty much anything that she picked up. The second section dealt with the coffee plantation. It reminded me of a vineyard/winery tour in the Napa Valley, only this one was all about coffee. And of course we had a sample at the very end of the tour. The tour also included an on-site nursery and a reconstructed Mayan village. Obviously, they had gone all out to make the experience as inclusive as possible. Since we had plenty of time to see everything, we took our time, finishing around lunch time.

The next day, John and I had arranged with our teachers to go to El Pilar, outside of the city and in the mountains. We would have to take a public bus for a bit and then walk the rest of the way. Although it was cloudy when we started, by the time we got there it was beginning to get sunny. Thankfully, it never rained.

The walk was longer than we had anticipated, but eventually we got there. The people along the way were all very friendly and helpful. Once we got to the place, and after paying our entrance fees, we pretty much had the place to ourselves. The available trail could be a 2-hour or a 4-5 hour experience. We chose to simply stick to the opening section. There was a covered hummingbird feeder station where 30 or more hummingbirds fed regularly. Further on, the "path" consisted of a series of stairs that went up and up and up. We heard the birds all around us but couldn't see a blessed one, despite our common efforts.

However, we did make it up to the highest point, where there was an outlook that looked down onto the valley below. At that point we decided that we'd probably done enough and made our way back down to the main road where we caught another camioneta back to town. That converted schoolbus was packed, packed with students who had just been released from school. All very polite and curious - and I wish I'd had the courage to take photo inside - but the bus was packed to the gills. There must have been 75 people in a bus made for 40. At least three to a seat and the aisles jam-packed. Yet the "helper" was able to wade his way through, collecting money and having kids skootch over to make room for someone else. Quite the Guatemala experience. Once we'd returned, we all decided to call it a day and I returned to the house for my first siesta of the week.

That evening, there was a youth symphony concert at the school to which we had been invited. The orchestra was made up mostly of youth from the area playing 95% string instruments. The "hall"was the open gymnasium. There was a downpour, of course, but that didn't prevent parents and friends from coming to see it. With the metal roof and the heavy downpour, it was difficult to hear the soft bits, but everyone seemed to enjoy the evening, and the kids were pretty good, all things considered. Nevertheless, John and I decided to call it a day at the break, when everyone lined up for their free cup of coffee.

On Saturday, I joined Br. Julio and Steve for a trip to "Guate" (the capitol), about 45 minutes away by car. There, we went to a very nice shopping center where there was a big sale going on. After wandering around a bit, we went to where you could really get whatever you were looking for ..... Walmart! The place was huge. You needed a guide just to get to the other side of the store. Thankfully, every aisle had at least one person standing there, helping people out and probably keeping an eye on pilfering. I was able to find all the things I needed, and then some.

When we got back for the afternoon meal, there were four Brothers at the table from Spain. One of them, another Br. Francisco, is teaching here in Guatemala (at Santa Maria Visitacion at Lake Atitlan) and he was hosting the Spanish Brothers for the week. They were just here for a day visit and would return to Spain within a day of two. It was funny to hear the Spanish I'd been listening to spoken in a different accent, and even more rapidly if that could be believed. They asked for a photograph after lunch and then left to explore the city. John and I went to the central plaza where tents had been set up with various book sellers. We explored, found some bargains, and then made our way back, stopping for ice cream for good measure.

That evening, the Director had prepared a special social and dinner for us outside. As before, prior to the social, several Brothers made short speeches and then we enjoyed the food and each other's company for the rest of the evening. Br. Francisco had brought out his iPod and we listened to Spanish, Mexican, and American Country music, singing along when we could. It was all very nice and relaxed - a good way to end the week.

On Sunday morning, after going to Mass next door at La Merced (a loooooong homily during which I was able to outline several projects for myself and review conjugations), we did some work in our rooms. Around lunch time, the Brothers announced that we would go to Pollo Campero for lunch; it was located just down the street. So off we went to this popular hot-spot in Guatemala. It's sort of like KFC but with a restaurant atmosphere, lots of kids, and chicken that tastes just slightly different from most chicken you might have had.

Following lunch, Br. Julio drove Steve, John, and myself back into Guatemala City in order to see the latest Harry Potter movie. We arrived at the theater, inside a shopping center, and found a line that reminded me of the line at Disneyworld for Splash Mountain. It would take 90 minutes to get to the front. So Julio said that he knew of another place. I thought that it would be the same sort of line wherever we went, but once we got to this other shopping center, we found a quite reasonable line and got our tickets. Their system includes assigned seating; first come, first chosen seats. Our seats were in row A. So the week ended with watching the final Harry Potter movie, in dubbed Spanish, with my neck craned back to a screen that began 15 feet away and reached up into the ceiling. But it was great, and I even picked up some of the dialogue. From what I could tell, the good guys win.

Now it's back to the books for the week and into the world of declensions, conjugations, past participles, gerunds, and a word order that still really seems like magic to me.

More pictures than you want in the slideshow below (You can click on it to see individual photographs with their captions):