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It is midday. I have counted 8 people passed out on the street. People are playing xylophones and dancing on graves. Yesterday folk got as drunk as humanly possible before racing horses whilst holding chickens in the air by their throats. All this in a 'dry' town.
Guatemala is as every bit crazy as I remembered it when I came here 5 years ago. First stop was on the Caribbean side was Livingston, a really chilled spot where Creole is spoken in preference to Spanish once again. Although you had the relaxed vibe you were however always trying to fend off a new 'friend' who wanted to show you the town in exchange for a small commission. I liked the place still and found a cool hostel to stay in despite a pregnant street dog insisting to sleep on the bed below mine in my dorm and then giving birth the night before I left. I was scratching quite a bit when I left that place. I also took the effort to walk 2 hours up to some waterfalls only to find them all dry, very strange considering it was the end of the wet season.
Managed to make it to a very bizarre overnight town called El Estor on my way out of Livingston, nowt wrong with the town except it was a tad boring and I was on my own at that point. I asked on Saturday lunchtime when the next bus was leaving and was told Monday morning, doh. Fortunately I got word on the street that there was a additional minibus leaving at 4am on Sunday morning, bonus, well, sort of. After dragging my carcass out of bed that early I then had to endure the bus doing laps of the town looking for other passengers which took over an hour. Once everyone on the bus was suitably crammed in and I had lost circulation in my legs we set off. 4 hours later we were told that the bus went no further, I had no idea where I was, the town wasn't marked on the map. I did however manage to get another bus although it was similarly packed, along an incredibly dusty road making me look about 60 with a fine layer of white dust all over me. I guess I haven't had a journey like this since Bolivia. Eventually I did make it to where I wanted to go but realised afterwards why the guidebook did not recommend the route.
I wanted to see Semuc Champey as I had missed out on seeing the huge natural limestone bridge complete with pools when I had last been in Guatemala. It was not until I had spent 2 days on the dusty roads, trekked up to the viewpoint, and felt the view was vaguely familiar, that I realised that I had indeed been there before. Luckily the scenery around the area was indeed worth another visit and it is still the highlight of Guatemala. Just appallingly crap memory! There were also some some cool caves where swimming was the name of the game paddling along with one arm whilst holding a candle in the air with the other. Even managed a little rock jump into the water within the cave, all good fun. At another cave I went to later on I sat mesmerised at sundown watching thousands upon thousands of bats leaving the cave entrance creating a local wind, the experience would of been made better if I hadn't been watching out for bat s*** the whole time. Stayed at a beautiful hostel right by the river and had some nice 'downtime' lazing by the river and enjoying the communal meals put on by the hostel.
Next stop Antigua, which I had indeed been before. A good looking place with endless cobbled streets lined with colonial buildings, but spoilt by the hordes of tourists I joined in exploring the town. San Pedro next down on the shore of Lake Atitlan, I bumped into Aussie Kris, it was good to see him again and together with a fun loving Belgian couple (boring Belgians stereotype wrong on this count) we had a good couple of days together with some boozy nights too. Kayaking was a great way to explore the lake and I kayaked over to San Marcos one day which is a cool alternative hippy town where baggy pyjama pants, braided hair, and vegetarian meals were the order of the day, the latter I enjoyed more than the former two.
Xela was the town I chose to do a couple more weeks of Spanish as it really was so cheap. 25hours per week, accommodation and food included with a local family for 80 quid per week. I must admit I almost gagged when I felt obliged to eat the blue tortillas that were placed in front of me on the first day. My adopted mother must have seen me struggling with them however and has since replaced them with bread for future meals. She is very nice like that. The food is not amazing but you get used to the eggs, beans, and bread the locals seem to get by on. I have found out that the reason that the tortilla was blue was that you can get black maize which makes the flour, this in turn makes dark blue mouldy looking tortillas, fine if you keep your eyes closed. As I am having to practice my Spanish at my homestay it is improving vastly and I now have the skill to bore people about my travels in Spanish as well as English now, yes my tutor was yawning quite a lot.
For the weekend between my 2 weeks of Spanish I went up to a small indigenous town called Todos Santos for lots of crazy goings on for the 'Day of the Dead' festival. This town is supposedly 'dry' and you cannot buy alcohol in the town. I however guarantee that you will never see so many drunk people in one place as in Todos Santos, especially on the Day of the Dead. The first night consisted of getting as drunk as possible and dancing like Krystian well into the night, preferably throughout the night. 8am the next day these drunk costumed men were still drinking and attempted to mount horses and then race them as fast as possible down a 300m track whilst holding live chickens by their necks aloft in the air all to the delight of the crowds lining either side of the track waiting for the guaranteed falls and bloody mess. The crowd was not disappointed, some of the guys were so drunk that their eyes were closed and relied on pure intuition to stay on the horses. Anyone can have a go and it lasts all day, it does not seem to be a competition, you just see either how fast you can go, how many lengths you can do, or just survive the ordeal. Lots of male testosterone flying around. An awesome atmosphere, there is no way I could of predicted watching horse racing all day and enjoying it. With the alcohol presumably brought from other towns everyone ended up getting blind drunk including my good self, and although I cannot remember it I apparently was dancing with a good few of the locals. My good form did not last however as I pissed off all the other backpackers back at the casa where we were staying by sleepwalking through the night and randomly shouting things at them. Some of the girls were apparently very scared. Ah well. The next day the festivities continued with more dancing and people passing out on the streets, by noon I had counted 8 people asleep on the road. The cemetery was the focal point of the festivities with xylophones being played on graves and people dancing on top of others. Fireworks were set off thus 'releasing' the spirits and the locals even shared their Aguadiente (strong nasty liquor) with the dead by pouring it on the graves. All in all a very bizarre experience.
Back to the normality of Xela for my Spanish now before heading off to Mexico in a couple of days.
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