Super Long Post Part 1

When I last posted, I was about to head to Lake Atitlan for the weekend….

Lake Atitlan is amazing. It is the crater of a huge volcano, is the deepest lake in Central America, and it is surrounded by 3 volcanoes and little towns! We took a chicken bus to Antigua and arrived 10 minutes before the last shuttle left for Panajachel. The whole way up the carretera, there were signs for “desrumbes” (landslides) and in parts, the road was closed because of the rocks and earth. Carving roads right out the mountains is not a good strategy… After a 2.5 hour shuttle ride, we got to Pana. Our shuttle driver, trying to figure out where to drop us off, realized that our hostel was just outside Pana and the road to get there had been destroyed by “la tormenta” Agatha. The only way to get to the hostel was to cross a small bridge by foot or by “tuk tuk” (according to Lindsey-three-wheeled, motorized, covered scooter with a bench seat in the back that holds 4 Guatemalans and all their stuff or 2-3 uncomfortable Americans, depending on size ) The shuttle driver knew the owner of the hostel and called him to meet us. We were met at the bridge by a tuk tuk and an escort on a bicycle. By now, it was about 8PM and we were starving. The only restaurant in that part of town was a Japanese restaurant. They had tofu there and it was so good! We watched some tv show about people eating placenta and drinking urine for health reasons. The best part of the hostel was the incredibly hot and powerful shower! The next morning, we headed into Pana and hired a boat to take us around the lake. We spent a few hours exploring the lake towns including Santiago Atitlan and Santa Catilina. We were supposed to go to the aquas termales (hot springs), but apparently the lake was too stirred up to feel the heat. In one of the towns we went to, we paid a little kid to take us to the house of evil saint Maximon (pronounced Mah-she-mohn). As Lindsey described our trip to see him…

“This little wooden guy gets moved to a different house each year and his whereabouts are known only by the people of the town because he's always in a private house. We paid our 13y/o buddy Miguel to take us to see Maximon and the legend he told us was this: Maximon is considered an evil spirit, but he is sought out often. He wears many scarves which are gifts from people who have come to visit him. Each time you pray to Maximon you may receive a result which is "por lo bueno" (for the good) and one which is "por lo malo" for the bad. For instance, if someone is making you mad and you go and light a black candle for Maximon, something bad will happen to that person. (we weren't given an example of a good thing that could happen...hmmm) Also if you are sick, you have a couple of options with Maximon. This little guy is known to smoke and to drink. Thus if you bring him a cigarette or a cigar he will come to you at night and blow the smoke to make you better (generally stomach ailments). You can also bring him 'aguardiente' (firewater) and he'll drink it and make you better. Once you have prayed to Maximon he is always with you, and he can come to your house while you sleep and tell you the future in your dreams. Pretty great. So we went and saw Maximon and he's wayyy back in a cement room with a low ceiling, in the dark and surrounded by candles. There is a guy guarding him at all times and there was another old man outside swinging a censer. Very mystic. Maximon himself is only about waist high and wears a really great hat and some fancy shoes. He's got gillions of scarves tied around his neck and several cigarettes in his offering plate. To see him we had to pay 2 quetzales (about 25cents).”

We took another boat to San Pedro (on the boat, we met 2 guys from chapel hill who went to app and a dukie). Our hostel was really cheap and really nice. We met some people there that knew one of the SOM 2nd years and have a friend staring in August. Small world. We also met a family whose daughter is at Duke and a social work teacher from NC State. Anyway…… Saturday night I was starting to not feel so good. We took a long trek to find a restaurant Lindsey wanted to go to through the town, by people’s houses and an arcade. We got horribly lost, but people were really nice and showed us the way (people in Guatemala city are not particularly friendly).

On Sunday, Lindsey and Sabrina (the other girl from NC- she just got her MPH at UNC and is now working for the CDC for several months) hiked Indian Nose. We were going to hike San Pedro volcano but it was closed because of the landslides. I decided to stay home in sleep since I was feeling pretty crappy in the morning. Heading back to Guate, we had a very unpleasant shuttle ride. There were these three American girls who got on the shuttle. One of the girls complained very loudly about the “jump seat” she would have to sit in and tried to get people to trade with her by saying how awesome it was. She ended up sitting in the front seat next to the driver and offering him beer (which she decided to drink in the van). Because she drank too much beer, she made the shuttle driver stop so she could go to the bathroom. THEN we all had to wait for the three girls at the stop because they decided to buy food. No wonder people hate Americans. The incredibly crowded chicken bus that we took the rest of the way back to the city was almost a relief to get away from those girls.

To really give you idea about what it's like to ride on the chicken buses, I'm going borrow Lindsey's words again...

"These buses are old US school buses that have been pimped out in crazy colors and chrome. The drivers could probably all be committed for their maniacle driving practices: turns are taken at break neck speed and stops are always last minute and whiplash inducing. The blaring horn can mean several things: hi! I'm stopping to pick you up! or Watch out I'm coming up behind you and don't want to stop! My favorite person on a chicken bus however is the doorman. Often adolescent or young adult, this guy hangs out of the door yelling the bus's destination as the bus starts to slow. "A Guate aguateaguateaguateeeee!" It's great. You no more get both feet in the aisle and the bus is speeding away and throwing you toward a seat (maybe) or maybe just into someone's lap. Last weekend I especially liked the doorman because he would say to everyone as they got on and tried to adjust and sardine themselves in "Adelante jovenes! Que pasan por el medioooo!" Roughly, "move along kids! go on down the centerrr!" Of course several of the patrons were little old men and women in traditional Guatemalan dress and not jovenes at all."

This adventure was followed by a couple of lazy days working from home and recovering from my mysterious cold. I went to shadow in the clinic on Tuesday morning and nearly passed out. Despite the fact that I did not have a single symptom of Dengue, they were worried that I had it and wanted to give me an injection of penicillin. Right…
TO BE CONTINUED