PDXDIASan Jose, Costa RicaReflections on San JoseSanta Elena, Costa RicaLiberia and BeyondBorder Crossing: Penas BlancasGranada, NicaraguaMia NicaraguaNica CultureLeonSan Miguel, El SalvadorJutiapa, GuatemalaXela (Quetzaltenango), GuatemalaCasa VSuenos AmericanosUna semana mas en XelaZugunruheLago de AtitlanAntiguaSemuc ChampeyTikal, GuatemalaSan Salvador, El SalvadorSuchitoto, El SalvadorSanta Rosa de Lima, El SalvadorMore on BusesGranada, againPanama City, PanamaBocas del Toro, PanamaSan Jose, la ultima vez
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Lanquín, Guatemala
The mini-van alternative was nice. However, being in a min-van doesn't change the fact that out-of-control school-buses dominate the Guatemalan highway. Consequently, I spent much of the trip wondering if it was safer to be in a mini-van with school-buses hurtling toward me, or if it had been safer being in a school-bus hurtling toward mini-vans. In the end I decided that at least I was comfortable in the van. Roz spent the trip grappling with ethical questions concerning window-rights in such a shared mini-van situation. It was a humid and stuffy trip and Roz had (we thought) control over the window immediately to her left. However, early in the trip the girl in front of us reached back and attempted to shut said window. Roz initially saw it as an affront to all that is right in the world but, because the action was done with no hint of shame or doubt, she began to question her own sense of propriety. I offered the assurance that our neighbor was obviously an uncivilized, self-righteous, barbaric a-hole, but I could tell the event continued to weigh heavily on Roz's more compassionate mind. There was, after all, a slight discontinuity between the partition of the windows and the partition of the seats, which left room for doubt. Having learned our lesson, we chose our seats more wisely next time. On the ride out of Lanquin our temporary ownership over the usage of a particular window was indisputable. With the partition clearly within her personal space, Roz was the only possible dispenser-of-wind for the forward-most window. Nevertheless, shortly into the trip, the girl behind us stretched her tentacle well into Roz's “bubble” and—with no request, no “please,” no “excuse me”—pulled the window firmly shut. This time the act was so incontestably shameless that Roz felt entirely justified in reopening the window despite the fact that it was not particularly hot or stuffy in the van and it was, as it turned out, quite cold outside. I wanted to put on a coat but my commitment to imposing my moral worldview (concerning windows) on the other passengers was unwavering and so I suffered in the name of justice.
But I'm getting distracted. There were other important things I was intending to discuss. Mainly, I wanted to chastise the country of Guatemala for being irresponsible with respect to speed-bumps and condiments. Partially I'm hoping that if I reserve my criticisms to such insignificant things then my condemnations won't reek of imperialism as does much American travel writing, but it is also the case that it is these little things that I find most entertaining.
Speed-bumps have been more or less randomly distributed throughout Guatemala because, well, there is a speeding problem here. Now I thought that the broad recurring speed-bumps in parking lots or the “speed humps” in Santa Fe were just an annoying overindulgence by construction workers or city-planners. But it turns out there is a subtle art to these bumps. One must combine the proper balance of bump severity, and intermittent distance so as to produce the desired effect of slower traffic and only slightly disgruntled drivers. Guatemala knows nothing of this subtlety. Here, a speed-bump is a formidable obstacle. They are small mountain-ranges of concrete demanding a complete stop before proceeding. With no viable constant speed there are only two apparent alternatives: 1) speed as much as possible between bumps because you have to slam on the brakes when you get to the next one anyway, or 2) off-road it. Neither is very pleasant for the passenger and I think it counts as an absolute failure when the speed-bumps force drivers to swerve onto the pedestrian path beside the road every fifty meters instead of slowing down. My other favorite part is when drivers decide that such speed-bump-rich sections of road are appropriate places to pass vehicles. Our driver would notice the car in front of us slowing down (for the speed bump) and take the opportunity to slam on the gas, pull into the other lane, and make his move. Of course, both would just reach the speed bump more or less simultaneously where they would duly come to a full stop before slowly mounting the obstacle in unison. Then both drivers would slam on the gas to try to beat the other to the next bump. It just makes the practice seem so pathetic when you have plenty of time to realize that you are trying to pass another car when your speedometer reads “0 kph.”
I think the problem with condiments stems from the poverty of the Spanish language. You see, in Spanish, as far as I can tell, the word “salsa” comprises everything within the diverse, robust, well defined, and nuanced categories of “sauces,” “toppings,” “condiments,” “salad dressings,” and “things that go on nachos.” Now I don't know Spanish, so don't attack my argument on that front; the fact of the matter is that I have empirical evidence that there is a problem here. And I know that we in the North also sometimes use condiments irresponsibly, but I have always been against coleslaw, thousand island dressing, and potato salad for that very reason. But here they just have no self-control when it comes to the three definitive condiments: ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise. Even the largely contested purview of the use of mayonnaise has limits in the US (though I believe we need to rein those in a bit). In Guatemala they are all universally applicable, preferably in large quantities. During our first week in Xela I tried to find common ground with my family by making fun of shared foreigners, but the Ecuadorian favorite of ketchup on rice (and the Thai substitute of butter for frosting, for that matter) just got the response “yeah, we have that.” But really my beef is with two issues: 1) there should be no blur in the line between the common condiments and things that go on nachos, and 2) yellow mustard does not go on salad. Which is really my only point—I'm just bitter about that salad in Lanquin.
Semuc Champey was quite beautiful. The park boasts a river which is interrupted by a series of limestone pools with stunningly blue water. We skipped the tour and hitched a ride in the back of a truck. Not only did this saves us $20, but it also meant that we got the pools more or less to ourselves, and we didn't have to be humiliated with Mayan “war-paint” as the other tourists did. After a couple of days in our little resort we got the itch to keep moving, so we got a mini-van to Flores, hoping to see the ruins of Tikal the following day.
(B)
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windows
Written by Kyle 40 months ago
I remember window etiquette being a HUGE problem in Ecuador. People would actually get out of their seats and cross aisles to reach over us and close our window. I got into a number of confrontations about it, but eventually we hit upon a strategy that worked approximately 100% of the time. I would point to Randi and say she was sick, and that if she didn't get fresh air she would vomit all over the bus. Or, more simply, you can point, say "muy enferma," and mime a good hearty puke with appropriate sound effects. I can pretty much guarantee success. However, if they tell you that they are shutting the window because the bus is about to enter a "dust zone," you should listen to them. They know what they're talking about.