6: Coban, Guatemala
Xela – Tajumulco – Uspantan – Coban
17 Dec 2001
On my last entry I had just arrived in Xela to do one week of Spanish. Well, now as I am fluent in Spanish, a whole world is opening up 
I am glad I did this, I went an important step further with my Spanish. The school, Celas Maya, was located in the center and inside their building there was a colorful garden with many red and yellow flowers. At 8 o’clock each morning the students and teachers would sit at one of the tables around the garden for lessons. With the sun shining, this was a most idyllic learning situation (or just a little too idyllic).
Except for me. Gustavo, my teacher, liked to sit inside one of the rooms inside. This worked out well though, since I would be super concentrated on learning and not dreaming away in the sun. Even though I would rather have had one of the pretty female teachers, Gustavo was probably the best for me. He was a hard teacher, having first studied Spanish he was now just finishing his degree in business. We had a lot to talk about, which is good when you only study for one week. Time really flies.
We had many discussions about many subjects. Some quite odd, like how it goes when someone dies in Holland, or why I cried when my cats died. Some are very obvious, like about women and relationships and work. And some are more philosophical, like the poverty and riches, Latino versus Western culture, war and peace. All in Spanish. I can barely ask for directions, but this…
There were several activities for the students. On two evenings there were movies. I saw the documentary Buena Vista Social Club and La Hija del Puma. this last movie was an intense (true) story about the search of a sister for her brother during the recent civil war. One afternoon we also had a former guerilla telling us about (his version) of the history and present situation concerning the peace accords.
Reading more about the different histories of the Central American countries I am becoming more aware of the role the US has played in all the conflicts here since the early 1900s. In the beginning the US has been actively involved to “protect” its business interests; later it would be the fight against communism. The US has been almost directly responsible for so many huge atrocities in this region; I shudder as I look at the present situation in the world where the US is “fighting” a monster it has created itself, and yet innocent people die again, including innocent Americans.
Almost all Western and other powerful countries have done many evil things (Holland too), but I think many US citizens just don’t realize the extent of US involvement in very ugly and evil games of power.
Whoa, got a little carried away there, but you have to be blind not to feel and be aware of the past here.
I was staying with a more or less average, middle class Guatamaltecan family. There was Martha, from Nicaragua, with her son Mario and her boyfriend Hugo. Mario is 10 years old and has a pair of rollerblades, a step and wears modern clothes. Martha has a mobile phone and works at an internet cafe. Hugo is a mechanic. We ate together three times a day, when we would talk about school and stuff.
There is a kitchen/living room area with television, Christmas tree and decorations, music installation, etc., and one bedroom which I didn’t see. Me and another Dutch student slept in two rooms, with good views to the outside.
There was no heating nor running water inside the house. All the washing of clothes, hands, dishes, etc is done outside in a concrete sink. The (cold) shower and toilet are also outside in a small building. All in all there was a strange mix of both a modern and primitive situation.
Xela is the second largest city in Guatemala (est. population, 100.000). Being up in the highlands, it is hilly, and with the one-story buildings painted in pastel colors of yellow, green, blue, beige, pink, etc., lining cobblestone streets with mountaintops and the big volcano Santa Maria on the near horizon, it can be very picturesque. But also cold, and in the evening quite boring. I took several salsa and merengue lessons with Ciomara, Xela’s most notorious dance teacher. One evening I went with some of the other students and danced at the Casa Verde.
During the week I had signed up to go on a two-day hiking trip to the top of the volcano Tajumulco, the highest Central American peak at 4,200 m. I booked the trip through Quetzaltrekkers, a volunteer organisation. All the profits of the hiking trips go to support their projects. One is a school with 80 children. All the expenses for the children, including paying the parents a fee because the children cannot earn an income while they are at school, and teachers and rent for the building are paid for. Their other project is a small dormitory where 20 street children can eat and spend the nights. These are children working as shoe shiners, sent down by their families from mountain villages. They can’t go home until they have earned a specific amount of money, like 150 quetzals, which could take two weeks. There are many projects like this throughout Central America, and I have met many travelers doing volunteer work. Maybe I’ll do this next year.
The trip to Tajamulco put my condition to the test (I survived), but it was very fulfilling. Walking with a backpack of 10kg from 3,000 to 4,000 m may not sound like fun, but when you see the views of the green forests, villages, farms, distant mountains and volcanoes around you, like from an airplane, it is all worthwhile.
Near the top, the 17 of us camped in the cold and sat around a campfire eating, drinking, laughing and telling each other their “weird” stories (I contributed my two short, weird and funny stories as well).
The next morning we hiked up to the top to see a glorious sun rising in a golden haze from under the clouds in the distance. It lit up a horizon filled with the peaks of other volcanoes coming through the clouds and the green valleys below. We were not alone though. There were many Guatemalan people up there, cheering as the sun came up. Some of them had mirrors with them and were trying to signal into the valleys around us. After a while you could see flashes from the valleys and villages as people were signaling back. Sometimes this would look like the forest was glittering in the sun, like sunlight in a lake.
That evening most of us still had some energy left, and we treated ourselves to a nice big pizza. Early the next morning I got up very early to start on my two days traveling to Coban. At the bus station I said good-byes to Ilja and Tijmen, a very nice couple from – yes – Amsterdam again. I had met them on the trip to Tajumulco, and they were leaving to Antigua. They have a round-the-world ticket and – yes – they are traveling around the world.
After Heuhuetenango, the chicken bus left the paved roads and started to go into the mountains on what would be the most scary and thrilling and beautiful piece of traveling I have done so far. The dirt road wound itself up and down mountains and valleys to Coban.
I am glad the young driver had his girlfriend with him, because he seemed to be driving more careful than I would think he usually drove. Still, at least 20 times during the trip I drew a sharp breath, clenched my teeth, didn’t breathe for a minute, felt my heart skip a beat, felt a rush of adrenaline, envisioned the bus driving off a cliff like in a movie, looked at my fellow passengers with whom I was going to die. But I lived – and the views were fantastic! The first part up to Sacapulas are mountains covered with green pine trees in a dry brown earth, with patches of farm land in between. In the second part to Uspantan, the variation of green and trees increased, including now more tropical greenery (palm trees, banana trees, etc).
I had to spend the night in Uspantan because there was only one bus per day going to Coban, leaving at 3 o’clock in the morning! The Lonely Planet said the part between Uspantan and Coban was very beautiful. I don’t know how he/she could know, because it was still night the first couple of hours.
However, once the sun was coming up, the landscape was magical, a lush green jungle covered with clouds of white mist and a blue sky above. As the very crowded bus drove through the Guatemalan Highlands, I was mesmerized and forgot (well almost) the very uncomfortable position I was sitting in for hours. Now I know a chicken bus is not called this way because of the many chickens carried on the bus, but because the passengers are all crowded into the bus just like the chickens they carry in the boxes and baskets.
Well, I finally arrived in Coban, the city of the everlasting drizzling rain. Really. Very strange how the people of the town pretend nothing is wrong and are wearing summer clothing (it is not cold) and carrying umbrellas.
I went to Coban to try to do a tour to Laquin and visit the caves there and some waterfalls. Did I go and visit the caves, see the waterfalls? You’ll have to wait for the next entry to know more.
I am feeling much better than in Xela, where I had some depressing days. I am also feeling more confident with my traveling and more secure. I have to watch out for this though; many times something will happen when you let your guard down. I have heard stories from other travelers which make it clear, traveling here is not always as safe as it seems (will leave it at that!).
I can’t wait to feel the heat again, in the lowlands and the coast. Since Livingstone I have been in medium or cold climates.
Christmas is all around. I have seen Christmas decorations since I have arrived in Mexico in November. Now the radio plays only (Spanish) Christmas songs, and there is decoration everywhere. It is not the frenzied decoration and atmosphere of the West, more an easy religious atmosphere. However this could very well be because the people here have not so much money to spend.
The people here do their firework stuff on Christmas day. I have been hearing the (sometimes very) loud firework for weeks now.
