The After-Hours Club

One of my very favorite things about Costa Rica is the way they can be completely content just sitting around in the shade, passing the time. There’s nowhere to go, no hurry, they just enjoy the moment. It can happen after lunch (almuerzo), when everyone’s too full to go back to work or do much of anything, late afternoon over a cup of coffee and slice of bread or cookies (cafecito), and in the evening when the day’s work is finished. I cherish these times.

Since there are several young people on my block and some of us are quite the night owls, we’ve developed a tradition of staying up late and hanging out. We usually just stick around either in front of my house where there’s a stone bench, or across the street in front of Andrea’s house in the wooden chairs that are always out front. If it’s late enough, Andrea’s parents take in the chairs and we migrate to the bench / curb across the street at my house.

The core of the group is made up of me, Boby and Katy. Boby is one of the young construction guys working on the house next door to mine. He’s got a bit of a rebel personality, but he’s a hard working and a loyal friend. He’s often the one to liven up the conversation.

Katy

Andrea

Katy (KAH-tee) – who is my tica neighbor, not the friend I’ve traveled with, is Boby’s girlfriend and has a similar personality, but she’s a big gossip (as nearly all Ticas are) so I don’t tell her any secrets. Andrea, who is 18 and one of my closest friends, is almost always with us too.

We are sometimes joined by Cristian. He’s kind of a wild card in that some days he’s really talkative and other days reserved. He and I are somewhere at the blurry line between friends and sweethearts, but it's more of a flirtatious give and take than anything serious.

Kenneth

Then there’s Kenneth. So I mentioned that Boby makes things interesting, well Kenneth turns it into a circus. Kenneth is a regular class clown and gets everyone smiling and laughing without fail. He and Boby are both my same age. Kenneth once entertained us for a night by his attempts to balance on a wooden chair with one foot on the chair back and the other on the seat while only the two back chair legs pivoted on the asphalt. Some of us gave it a try as well. Surprisingly we all ended the night without a scratch but the chair was not so lucky.

Jaleska also joins us once and a while. She’s 18 and good friends with Andrea. In my opinion, she’s an attention hog. She always tries to gain the spotlight and get the conversation to center on her. I really don’t miss her when she’s not around. If it’s not too late, my host sister María likes to hang out with us, but by 9:45/10:00 p.m. my host mom usually calls her inside because she has to get up for school the next day. there’s also Wendy, who has two young kids, but is very young at heart. She might join us if the kids are down for the night and she’s feeling social.

Maria

We entertain ourselves a variety of ways. We sometimes chalked lines on the street and play soccer two square – where you have to pass the ball back and forth with your feet, only letting it bounce once in your square (it’s harder than you think). We often sat around listing to music from people’s mp3 players on their cell phones, singing to the lyrics. We’d tell stories, joke around and all it all just shoot the breeze. Sometimes we had in-depth discussions on one topic or another. A few crazy highlights I remember are walking handstand races and using broken chunks of drywall to chalk up the entire street with messages for and caricatures of our neighbors – all in good fun of course.

Then there were the apretados – oh how I love these. They are simple, frozen ice cream-like treats that come in a plastic bag tied off at one end, a little smaller than a baseball in size. There are all kinds of fruit flavors (mango, papaya, strawberry, blackberry, banana etc.) as well as chocolate, chocolate peanut, coconut, vanilla cream, and others I’m probably forgetting. In some they add powdered evaporated milk that mixes with it as it melts to make it creamy. To eat it you bite through one corner of the plastic bag and bite and slurp till it’s gone. I like to pre-mash the ice so it’s easier to eat. The problem is, your hands usually freeze in the process, but I just switch back and forth. They’re called "apretados" because the verb "apretar" is to press against – makes good sense I think. The best part – they’re incredibly cheap, just 30 cents each or 150 Colones (Colones are roughly 500 to the dollar). They’re sold out of people’s houses where they’re made daily in the kitchen and kept the freezer. Some are open as late as midnight, so we often make late-night apretado runs. They are always a hit.

So this is what I look forward to most nights, hanging out with the “gallada” (the gang). We all live right here on the same block and always have a good time when we’re together. They keep me guessing and I love it.

What Did You Just Call Me?

“¡Hola mamacita guapa, que chica más linda, uuuyi!”

Translation: “Hey hot little mama, such a pretty girl, ooowee!”

That’s a typical shout an American girl hears while walking down a busy street. It’s often accompanied by whistles, or a sound like “tsss tsss tsss” to get her attention. It can be quite annoying at times and if not taken into context, offensive. It was one of the toughest things for me to get used to about Costa Rica. The men have no reservations about yelling out cat calls to women. We Americans tend to take offense to it, but that’s because in our own culture, it’s considered rude and obnoxious. Men might stare at women a little and check them out, maybe smile at them, but they don’t shout incessantly. Well, here they do, some more than others.

I’m not saying it doesn’t bother me, because sometimes it does. Like when I want to lie out on the beach and some guy parks himself on a bench nearby with a clear view so he can watch me – that’s just not okay. But if I’m just walking down the street and they want to whistle and say something, I’ve come to the point where I find it amusing, and even take it as a complement (though it’s really not saying much, considering how the guys here pretty much stop in their tracks for anything with breasts, blond hair and blue eyes).

Many of the girls from the second semester of USAC, after being in Costa Rica for 3 months still aren’t used to it and it is driving them crazy. Well, I figure you can let it drive you crazy, or you can just get over it and take it in stride. Getting mad at them only riles them up even more anyway. You’re much better off just accepting the culture and not stressing yourself out about it – that’s what I’ve learned to do.

Besides, can you really complain when all the guys in town seem to thing you’re gorgeous?

Shake those hips!

I am so thankful that Latin American guys are not afraid to dance. I mean, you’ve still got your typical wallflowers, but there are far fewer here. Praise God! It’s so fun to see guys who aren’t afraid to shake their hips. I’d like to tell all American guys that there’s nothing wrong with gyrating your hips to the rhythm of a song – girls love it! That is, as long as you don’t go overboard. There’s still something distasteful about the surprise attack from behind if the girl’s not expecting it. But in regards to just letting the music flow through you and moving to the beat, these guys know how to groove.

I suppose it’s the culture, where it’s quite normal for a family to encourage toddlers and young kids to shake their booties to the music, all finding it hysterically entertaining when the little ones catch on. So they grow up being rewarded with applause when they decide to dance it up. I guess us Americans just aren’t quite so lively in our family get-togethers.

Perhaps we should be. Girls like a guy with confidence. More boys should be brought up knowing it is okay to express themselves and not be afraid of an audience. I think it would boost their self esteem and confidence on and off the dance floor and may make the difference between winning the girl they like rather than sitting on the sidelines wishfully thinking.

And when a great song comes on, it means more entertainment for everyone.

Guatemala - Poor and homeless for a day

After the tour finished at about 9:00 a.m. we ate a little and hung around until our vans departed for Flores. We stopped back by our hotel on the way back to pick up luggage and arrived just before 11:00 a.m. Here we encountered a little problem. We were almost out of money and had nothing to do until 10:00 p.m. when our bus would depart. We each had about the equivalent of $2.00 in Córdobas, which were roughly 20 to the dollar, and being at the very end of our trip with the rest of our transportation paid for, we refused to pay ATM transaction fees for just a few more dollars of foreign currency. We found a hostel that would hold our luggage for the day for just 5 Córdobas, and then wandered around the little town that was actually formed on a landmass surrounded by rivers. We learned that it was one of the last strongholds for the natives as their territory was continually shrinking from European invasion. We were approached by several tour guides trying to offer us boat rides and cave excursions which might have been nice had we had a little more cash, but we had to just make due killing time. Katy bought a sleep aid pill for the bus ride back and I a beer for the equivalent of 50 cents and a few postcards.

With several hours left to kill and the temperature rising, we searched for some shade (of which there was very little) to just sit and relax. We were hungry, but only had enough for one meal so we figured it best to wait and eat later so as not to be too hungry on the bus. We finally found a spot near the water next to a dock under the shade of a tree. We tried to relax but the ground was rocky and rather uncomfortable. There were also an unusual amount of flies buzzing around. We tried our best to ignore them until I began to notice something smelled funny. I looked to my right and realized we had sat down right next to a pile of dog poop. I gave a shout of disgust which was echoed by Katy. Then, taking everything into perspective, we started laughing hysterically. “It’s like we’re homeless!” I said. We were tired, hungry, poor, felt dirty, and were surrounded by flies.

We picked ourselves up and, wiping the tears from my eyes from laughing so hard, I suggested we try the other side of the island where we had seen a couple trees. We found a good spot, but decided we’d be better off with a blanket on the bumpy grass. Of course, by the time I got back from our hotel with a blanket, a guy with an snow cone cart on wheels had parked right next to our spot and some other vagabonds were hanging around making conversation. “Great!” I thought. “Now we’re competing for plots of grass! I’m not sure this can get any worse.”

There was a bridge crossing the river that lead to a small park area with a couple trees and we decided to try that out. As we were spreading out our blanket, a local about our age approached us, asking what we were doing. He told us that napping on the grass was a bad idea, making ourselves a target for a possible mugging. So now we felt like some odd combination between homeless people and naïve tourists. There was an empty little refreshment bar with some tables out front and he invited us to have a seat. I think he had already been drinking some, but he seemed harmless and there were two of us plus the bartender, so we figured we were ok. He bought us each beers, but Katy didn’t want to drink so I ended up with two. We went on to talk about all kinds of stuff, including where we had been and where we were going and he talked all about his past. He’d made it to the states to work illegally, but then was discovered and deported. He hadn’t seen his family for years and his mom was supposedly finally arriving by plane that day. Why he thought it would be a good idea to get drunk before her arrival is beyond me, but he eventually got there. I got close too, considering he insisted on buying Katy beers that she handed off to me. After a few hours of rambling conversation that eventually was more annoying than amusing, we decided to make our exit. I had had 3, trying to distract myself from my rumbling stomach, and had reached my limit, but I felt bad leaving two full beers on the table. He got a phone call and when his back was turned I dumped the warmer of the two on the grass. I figured one full beer was okay and maybe he’d drink it himself. That might sound like a waste, but you have to realize that the beer was cheap, and not accepting the offer would have been worse. In his state he wouldn’t know I hadn’t drunk it. After he finished his call, we thanked him for his generosity and left. He was sad to lose his company, but wished us well.

We had finally arrived at dinner time and decided to surrender the last of our dollars to a meal, but it had to be cheap. I had 27 Córdobas left and Katy had 30. She had a craving for a burger and I felt like pasta. We browsed menus of several restaurants and none offered both items inexpensively. I found a place with a cheap spaghetti marinara plate and Katy saw a sign for burgers and set off to get one to go, planning to return and eat it at my table. I didn’t sit at my table long before two 30-something guys, the only other people there, invited me over to their table. My food came and I was relieved that it was a large-sized portion that would fill me up. My new acquaintances were very interesting people and made great conversation. It turns out they were both gay, a suspicion I had from the start, and were actually exes, but still friends and were traveling together. We made conversation about their past, which they were surprisingly open about (they had had a couple drinks) and each told stories of our travels. Katy arrived with her burger and joined the conversation.

We stayed chatting there in the restaurant after our food was gone, which helped to pass more time. Finally 9:30 p.m. rolled around and we returned to the hostel to collect our bags and walk to the bus stop. The arrival of the bus was a great relief and the beginning of our journey home. The 8-hour bus ride passed in no time for Katy, who was lucky enough to not have anyone sit in the seat next to her and, with the help of her pill, passed out for the whole trip. I on the other hand, having not had a problem sleeping the first time, opted not to buy a pill, but got stuck sitting with someone next to me in a partially broken seat that rocked from front to back with the driver’s every application of the break pedal. I got little more than short cat naps and the ride dragged on through the night. At 8:00 a.m. we arrived at the Guatemala bus station and found our prearranged shuttle for the airport. I had to charge my $7.00 exit tax to my credit card and bought an apple with the last of my change. I ended up with a couple Córdobas to spare as souvenirs. We took a 45 minute flight back to Costa Rica and a 2 hour bus ride back to Puntarenas. I arrived late afternoon, completely exhausted and extremely grateful to collapse onto a comfortable bed and lay my head on a pillow without lumps.

Guatemala - Relics of a fallen age

The beeping of Katy’s alarm awoke us a little over 5 hours later. Turning my head and refusing to awake immediately, I slowly came to consciousness. Still dark, I could hear the voices and bustling noises of others in the hotel who were also going on the tour. We chose the earliest tour because it had the best rate and provided transportation back to Flores where our bus would depart from. We dragged ourselves out of bed and made ourselves ready for the trip. We didn’t get breakfast because for one, it was incredibly early and two, we had eaten our one breakfast we were entitled to the previous morning. Instead, we ate sweet bread and bananas that we’d bought the evening before. 

Flashlights in hand and our daypacks equipped with water and some snacks, we piled into large vans and drove about 45 minutes to the park. It was still dark when we arrived. We got an introduction and began our hike, being watchful of the menacing roots creeping across our path in perfect position to trip us. As our group of about 15 people walked along the path through thick forest, daylight slowly began to appear. By the time we reached the first temple we no longer needed our flashlights. From the top of that temple, the tallest of five main temples, we were to watch the sunrise. Sadly, the temple had been shaken by a recent earthquake and was in poor condition, although in the process of being restored. We did not walk on the original steps, but rather a winding set of wooden stairs that wound upwards in a square-like fashion until we reached the top. We took our seats along with many more guests also taking the tour. Several other USAC students were there, having by chance chosen to do the tour on the same day. This wasn’t very surprising considering many students had planned to go to Guatemala over the break. After saying our hellos and “Hey, I didn’t know you were here!” several times, we all fell silent to await the sun. 

The view was breathtaking. The tops of the trees formed a thick blanket of greenery under a hovering fog from which rose the tops of three tall, proud stone temples. The sounds of birds grew more and more present as they awoke from their slumber. Everyone was taking pictures though it was difficult to capture the whole scene without perhaps a quality telephoto/wide lens camera. Katy took several pictures then we both just sat peacefully and took in the moment. Having lost my camera, I figured a good mental picture was the best I could do.

After a while our guides spoke up and told us the sun had already risen although it wasn’t visible through the overcast sky. How's that for anti-climatic? At that we split up into groups for the rest of the tour. There was an English-speaking guide and a Spanish-speaking guide. The English group was significantly large, so Katy and I decided to go with the other group, hoping we’d benefit from a smaller group. In the end I realized that the other guide was actually better and offered more information, but I still enjoyed myself quite a bit.

           

We wound our way through the grounds, in awe of their antiquity and the reality that we were walking in the footsteps of the ancient Mayan civilization. It was difficult to imagine how magnificent it all must have been in its prime. Our guide explained that by looking closely at the remains, archeologists know that at one time the buildings were painted and certain colors reflected varying levels of significance. For example, the temple’s bases were painted red while the temple itself, which is only the very top portion of the giant structures, was a golden color. Today the extremely faded paint is only visible on certain fragments of the ruins. It’s obvious how wind, rain, erosion and earthquakes have all taken a great toll on the buildings, wearing away surfaces and crumbling edges on all sides. One of the greatest destroyers has been plant and tree roots. We saw a row of temples named “The Seven Sisters” with three smaller temples on each side and a larger one in the center. They looked far more like mounds of rubble than temples. Some were topped by the trunk of a tree that had, over hundreds of years, engulfed the structure with its complex web of roots. Though strongly built, the stone had surrendered and been strangled by the force of nature. Every crack had been exploited and split open by the flourishing plant, leaving little but the crumbling remnants of something grand. The middle temple was under restoration and crews were working to rebuild it to resemble its original form. I felt a little conflicted about this. Though nice to see the temple in good shape, the construction seemed false, as if it were covering up the original handiwork, although decayed, of the ancient civilization.

Seven Sisters

Another mind-boggling reality ran through my head as I admired these buildings. They were constructed without the use of livestock or technology. They didn’t even have the wheel. These temples, towering hundreds of feet in the air, stand on giant stone pyramid that was constructed by no more than droves of men pouring all their strength into moving these blocks one by one into place and chiseling flights of stairs and religious figures into them. More than 100 years of constant physical human labor went into the construction of some of these temples. As if that wasn’t impressive enough, their alignment is exactly calculated north, south, east, and west, and the steps, with perfect 90 degree angles, serve as a faultless calendar, their numbers coordinating with the days and months of the year. Their ingenious construction is the only reason the ruins have survived so long.

I felt dwarfed as we climbed to the top of some of them (by way of wooden staircases since tripping on the steps, even if they were in good condition, could lead to a violent tumble). From the top, those below looked ant-like. Only the highest priests ever mounted these structures and I figured they must have been in great shape to mount such steep, seemingly endless staircases.

We also saw the ball courts, where teams would compete for the entertainment of others but more importantly, the right for the captain on the winning team to be sacrificed to the gods. This was actually a great honor rather than a punishment and the person was believed to be granted direct passage to the heavenly realms and was greatly celebrated thereafter by the Mayan people.

The royal homes were also very interesting. What was visible to the eye was only the latest layer to have been constructed. Similar to ancient Rome, these buildings were built in stages and through the ages of wars and destruction, new walls and ceilings were built on top of the originals. The first dated back as far as 500 B.C. The ruins were in such condition that it was difficult, without the help of a guide, to identify where one room ended and another began. Our guide didn’t offer us much information, but we climbed and explored and made our best guesses. Only the most royal lived in these spaces, the rest of the population lived in simple wooden houses and huts, long ago decayed and gone.

It is such a marvel to me how societies that existed so very long ago were so incredibly advanced in their organization and methods. If only we could borrow some of that genius today so we wouldn’t have to rebuild bridges after only 20 years and could perhaps have order and help each other to flourish without draining our central stores of finances and resources. I suppose that’s just another thing that has been subject to decay over the years.

Guatemala - The trek up north

The last stop on our Guatemalan journey was Tikal, one of around 30 existing sites of Mayan ruins, but one of the largest. Located in the far northern part of the country, an 8 hour bus ride from Guatemala City was required to arrive. There were tours offering a quick arrival via plane, but they were far out of our budget. We took the overnight bus both ways, figuring we wouldn’t waste our days and we could save two nights’ hotel stays. The poor sleep one gets on a bus was just another sacrifice of budget traveling.

We arrived at the bus station via shuttle from Panajachel. Katy and I were the last to arrive at the shuttle and claim seats. That meant we got the passenger and middle front seats. We chatted with the driver along the ride and he asked about our families and made interesting conversation. He asked our ages and if we had any kids. “No!” we both responded, saying that we were two young to have kids. We later learned that he has two children ages 15 and 16, the older is a girl who married at the age of 14 and had her first baby one year later. What a different world.

We arrived in Guatemala City at the terminal for the tourist bus line that goes to Flores, a city just outside the ruins site, around 8 p.m. We waited in the terminal for more than an hour before it was time to board the 10 p.m. bus and during that time we met two Australian guys who were traveling together. The conversation with them was quite fun and it helped to pass the time faster. We also met up with two other USAC students, Sarah and Steve (recently engaged – awww), who were on our same bus and we didn’t even know it.

After 8 hours on the overnight trek we arrived in Flores at 6 a.m. The town was asleep and the sun just coming up. We got in a taxi with the Sarah and Steve to head to a hotel halfway between the ruins and Flores in a little town of which I have forgotten its name. They had reservations and we were just hoping there would be a room available for walk-ins. We lucked out and got a room with breakfast included which we were more that ready for. Sleepy eyed and dreary, we lounged in hammocks in the eating area while waiting for the food to be prepared. We ate in a daze and later passed out in our wooden, old-fashioned cabin-style room.

 I slept better on the bus than Katy, so I didn’t snooze as long and also couldn’t take the heat as the day warmed up. Flores was quite a bit warmer than Antigua and Panajachel (thankfully). By late afternoon we were feeling outgoing again and decided to rent kayaks along with Sarah and Steve and paddle around the lake across the street from the hotel. It was quite beautiful and fun, for only a couple bucks each.

Nearby banana grove and grazing chickens

 As we turned in the kayaks it was about 4:30 and the weather was so perfect that I decided to go for a run while Katy explored the little town on foot. She said I was crazy for wanting to do more exercise and I told her runners are like that sometimes. I took off down the main road in the direction out of town to see what I could see. There were houses dotted along the road, but not very close to one another. I ran on the shoulder of the road where there was a well-worn path, most likely created by the people who walk on foot from home into town to buy food or do other errands. I was surprised by how many of the houses were in disrepair, with holes in the walls and rusty aluminum roofs. Surely they could not hold up to the rain. Some appeared to be previously abandoned houses, heavily weathered and apparently falling apart, that others had moved into and made due with the lack of comfort. The wood deteriorating, some walls missing, with no refuge from animals and bugs, these families know no different and surely are grateful to at least have a place to call home. Despite their difficult situation, many seemed quite cheerful. As I ran by and greeted those who were near the road, they smiled and enthusiastically greeted back. I ran about 20 minutes before reaching a hill I didn’t feel like charging and turned back. I arrived in time to watch the peaceful sunset over the lake with a neighborhood soccer game on a makeshift field near the shore in the foreground. 

After a shower, we set out in search of something cheap to eat since our money was running low. We were two of four people in the little restaurant which was more like the patio of a house, the kitchen of which was used for the food preparation. While waiting, family members passed in and out of the house. Seated at the next table over was a friendly couple. The woman, rotund and somewhat poorly dressed, with one of her front teeth missing, was very talkative and laughed easily. She had at her feet a live chicken with its feet bound. She said she had bought it in Belize, where she works selling souvenirs to tourists. She commutes over an hour across the border every day. She had plans to kill and cook it the following day, that is unless we had interest in buying it from her. We kindly declined, she laughed, and our food arrived. We had been in the mood for breakfast food, so I had an omelet and Katy enjoyed pancakes. A little while later, pleasantly full, we turned in to bed to get some sleep before waking up at 3 a.m. for the sunrise tour of the ruins.

Guatemala - Lazy day by the lake

So I owe everyone an explanation of the rest of our trip, so here´s the next chapter -

With one and a half more days in Panajachel, (again overcast though slightly warmer, meaning less shivering, but a less photogenic lake) we didn´t want to spend any more money than necessary. After looking over how much we had left, we both realized we hadn´t quite budgeted right in our previous trip to the ATM. Friday started out the day with a run along the lake and through some of the streets to get our blood flowing.

Upon returning to the hotel, Katy´s growling appetite kept me from showering and we hurried out in search of pancakes. Being just after 11 a.m., we were racing against the restaurant schedules that stop serving breakfast around 11:30 a.m. or noon. Katy had drooled over a sign outside one of the places we passed on our run and insisted on finding it. Unfortunately, all she remembered was what the sign looked like and not the restaurant itself and after walking up the entire street we decided the place must have already taken in the sign. We compromised and picked another restaurant that had a good looking menu and decent prices. The restaurant was upstairs and overlooked a school playground so we entertained ourselves watching little boys duke it out in a soccer game while we waited for our food.

After a quite satisfying breakfast we headed back to the hotel and showered and got ready for the day lazily, without any hurry. It was nice not to have any tours planned and just do whatever we felt like doing. After an episode of Scrubs about 2 seasons old we headed out to see what we could see.

The day consisted of more perusing the vendors and exploring the town. I bought a couple more little things, a pretty scarf and some earrings to add to the purse, fabric, place mats/napkin set, other earrings, bracelets stuffed turtle, skirt and chocolate I had already bought. Only small things, considering my bag was already stuffed.

So much temptation, not enough suitcase space (or money)

We found a chocolate shop and drooled a bit, then found a pupusería, a Pupusa shop, which is a type of Guatemalan corn tortilla with beans and melted cheese inside. They also make them with meat and vegetables. They were delicious.

Then, upon leaving the restaurant my trip full of great memories took on a nasty stain. We walked down the street and I stopped to buy a tamale from a woman on the street and then we walked directly back to the hotel, but upon arriving I realized my camera was gone from my pocket. I ran all the way back to the restaurant, hoping I had left it there and it had been found, but the woman was surprised and said nothing was left. I am left to believe that someone pick pocketed it right off me in the street and I never even noticed. I was so UPSET!!! But in that moment I was helpless. There was nothing I could do and getting furious wasn´t going to help anyone, so I took a detour on my walk back to the hotel along the lake to calm down and returned to our room feeling victimized and defeated. I can be thankful that I didn´t get attacked, but it´s still very upsetting. Luckily I had downloaded my photos from previous travels prior to the trip and Katy had a camera as well, so I still have photos, but I won´t have many from the travels to come. Mostly mental photos from here on out. I do, however, have lots to post from the travels I´ve recently written about. I will have to post some slide shows soon. A storm rolled in later that evening (how appropriate considering my mood) and we spend the night in our room watching movies on cable.

The second day, Katy headed back to the hotel and I went for another loop down by the lake which turned into a spontaneous swim out to the end of the buoys and back. All the while I was afraid some Guatemalan kid was going to steal my running shoes and tank top I had left on the beach, so I kept looking back mid stroke (not that I would have been able to do anything if they tried), but they stayed safe and sound and I returned, to Katy´s surprise, to the hotel room quite wet.

After a shower we headed out for an economical breakfast which turned out to be yogurt bought at a mini-mart type store (here they´re called pulperías) which we poured over a mixed fruit bowl from a street vendor. All total about a $1.50 breakfast, nice! The rest of the day we just wandered through the streets, trying our best to politely deny the insistent women and kids selling all kinds of hand crafts that approached us at every opportunity. I learned that if you don´t intend on buying something, you can´t admire it. The moment you show any interest in what they are offering, they go on hi-speed selling mode and backing out of the deal suddenly becomes twice as difficult. At this point I was shopped out, having already probably bought more than my share of beautiful Guatemalan wares, so I had to say no to the puppy-faced kids, no matter how needy they looked.

We hung around town until about 3 p.m. when we went back to our room to pack before our shuttle ride at 4 p.m. for Guatemala City which would drop us at the bus station for Flores, near the Mayan ruins.

...to be continued.