Wayne's World Travels

Good Help Is Hard To Find

2014-02-05T12:19:00.000-06:00

San Pedro

Good help is hard to find at anytime ... and anywhere. On Monday, Miguel, the landlord, informed me that Lesley, the woman who had been cleaning my apartment, decided she didn't want to work anymore and quit without notice. He told me this when I met up with him on the road as I was making my way into town. It would be the first of three encounters with him on the subject. I can't say he doesn't keep me well informed.

Sadly, Patience Is Not One of My Virtues

I'm sorry to say that my Spanish hasn't improved a great deal since I've been here and that I don't have the patience to sit in Spanish school for several hours every day. Nor do I want to do any homework. Another rationale for not going to school is that I have the vocabulary, and all I need is practice, so why spend money on a conversational Spanish class when I can engage any of the natives on the street for free, including Miguel? All of this is by way of background to explain that I translate in terms of the "big picture" rather than word-by-word, so that if someone speaks slowly to me, I can grasp most of what that person is trying to say. This is what generally happens in talking to Miguel. His wife Isabel is another story. When I ask her to speak more despacio - slowly - she actually speeds up and ends every conversation by telling me I should practice my Spanish. Miguel is much more patient with me.

Enter Lola

At our second encounter, also on the road, Miguel told me that he had now engaged Lola, who currently cleans my next door neighbor's apartment. That would be my non-communicative neighbor who started the clothespin war. I've since discovered that he's deaf as a post, which explains his lack of communication skills. But since our water crisises, we've come to be on more friendly terms, and even wave at one another, although I don't think we'll be sharing a glass of wine any time soon.
Miguel said that Lola could come on Mondays or Wednesdays. Lesley had been coming on Fridays. First at 1 p.m. and then at 9 a.m. Each week that was two hours of my life I'll never get back. Previously I've written about how garbage pick-up works here, that you have to be home when the truck comes and hand up your bag to the garbage man along with a Quetzal to the driver. Garbage day is Wednesday and, thinking quickly,I told Miguel that Wednesday would be the better day for Lola to come.

After negotiating the day, the next step was the time. Miguel offered 8 a.m. While San Pedro is an early to bed, early to rise kind of place, 8 o'clock is still a bit early for me, so I said 9 o'clock. The garbage truck has been coming aroud 9:30, so here I could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. I have to stop here for a second and give myself a pat on the head for understanding and carrying on with the negotiation in Spanish, although I must admit that some English did creep in. But it was only enough to reassure myself of what I was saying, especially when it came to days of the week - I'm still a little weak on those - because Miguel sure didn't understand what I was saying.

Why Is There Never a Tuk Tuk When You Need One?

Just when I thought our business had been concluded, I met up with Miguel yet one more time on the road as I was hurrying home from the Internet cafe. I had to cut short my time there as I wasn't feeling well and the last thing I wanted to do was to get into yet another discussion on the domestic help situation, but had little choice. Why is there never a tuk tuk when you need one? At this meeting Miguel told me that Lesley would put in a final appearance on Tuesday and that he'll let me know if Lola is able to do 9 a.m. on Wednesdays starting next week. At that point, with the way I was feeling, Miguel could have told me he'd run me down with his motorcycle and I would have gladly laid down on the ground to accomodate him. Anything to put me out of my misery. I'm happy to report that I'm feeling much improved now.

Lola's a Hugger

I've met Lola on several ocassions when she's come to clean my neighbor's apartment. Lesley and she couldn't be any more different. Where Lesley is quiet and shy, Lola is vivacious and outgoing. The first time I met Lola she just introduced herself and gave me a hug and a kiss, and I didn't know her from a hole in the ground. I think cleaning day is going to change significantly.

Disaster

On a sad note ... for me ... is that it took only a few seconds for me to turn my computer into a doorstop by spilling a glass of wine on the keyboard. Merlot and electronics don't mix. Of course, I took the machine to the repairman who determined that it was a total loss and would cost the equivalent of over $200 to fix it, which I felt wasn't worth it. Furthermore, he would be installing a "foreign" operating system that I didn't think would be a good idea on several levels. And, because the hard drive got wet, I irretrievably lost all the data on it, including my email distribution list. If you haven't backed up your data, take it from me and DO IT NOW!

I relied heavily on that computer and was really bummed out about it for two days. But fortunately I have my Android tablet with me, which is helping to fill the gap. I'm finding that the tablet can do pretty much anything the computer did albeit at a much slower pace than the computer because of the processor size, and multi-tasking can be painful. Also, I'm at the total mercy of Wi-Fi to get online and beg, borrow and "steal" it wherever I can, so I may be slow in responding to email. I'm trying to re-create my email list, and if I've missed you, and you just happened to look at the blog to see if there's a new posting, please use the form at the right to send me your email address.

A Most Excellent Adventure

2014-01-26T19:02:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

It’s been awhile since I’ve had anything to write about. I’ve settled into a daily routine that pretty much consists of going to the mercado and then to the Internet café to download my evening entertainment. In addition, I had a cold, which has been making its way around town, that just didn’t want to quit. I wouldn’t have minded it so much if Nyquil were available here, but I had to settle for something called Tabcin, which advertises itself as a multi-symptom cold reliever but, in fact, as far as I’m concerned, did very little to relieve the symptoms.

A Most Excellent Adventure

This past Thursday, however, I did go on a most excellent adventure to Xela (Quetzaltenango) to go to the dentist to start treatment for a crown that I’ve needed for more than two years now. Whoever thought going to the dentist could be an adventure? It can be if you’ve been in San Pedro for awhile because unless you’re highly motivated to leave, a major difficulty in getting out of town – at least for me - is the condition of the road from San Pedro to the Pan American Highway. It’s the only road that practically guarantees that I’ll be nauseous by the time I’ve passed San Juan.

Shifting Priorities

From what I understand, government administrations come into office with certain projects and priorities and from time to time repaving the road has been among the administration’s priorities only to have that administration voted out of office and the work stops while the incoming administration has other projects that it feels are more important. This is especially evident in stretches of the road where one lane has been

paved and the other is dirt. In these sections, and in sections where the road is dirt on both sides and littered with vehicle-eating potholes, drivers will play “chicken” to stay on the pavement or avoid the potholes. It’s especially frightening in the dark when one vehicle will try to pass another in a blind “S” curve or on a switchback. This is what our bus driver did as if leaning on his air horn going into the curve would erase any threat of danger.

The “Chicken” or the Shuttle? ¿Igual?

Aside of hiring a private car, which can be pricey but a viable alternative if several people are sharing the cost, the only methods of transportation out of town are shuttles and “chicken” buses. The goal of the former is to pack as many people as possible into a van meant for 15 people and to make them as uncomfortable as possible. The goal of the latter is also to pack as many people as possible into a retired yellow school bus that has been reconditioned and to which additional seats have been added and to also make the passengers as uncomfortable as possible. Remember, these buses were originally meant for small school children, not grown adults, and with the addition of more seats, they are pretty tight, especially when a wide-hipped person decides to put half-a-cheek on a seat barely big enough for the two people already sitting there. Just sayin’.

That all said, the two methods of transportation would appear to be igual, but as far as I can see, the only advantage of the shuttle over the bus is that the shuttle goes directly from Point A to Point B – and there may even be a bathroom break – while the bus stops whenever and wherever someone wants to get off or on, which makes it a little slower. Since, however, the shuttle and the bus are both insufferably uncomfortable, the bus has the advantage over the shuttle on price. Both will get you where you want to go. It will just take a little longer by bus but for a fraction of the cost. The fare from San Pedro to Xela comes in at just under $4.50 by bus versus approximately $20 by shuttle, and then there must be at least two people going before a travel agency will dispatch a shuttle.

Chicken Bus Virgin

It’s a two-and-a-half to three hour trip from San Pedro to Xela and this would be my first time traveling alone on the bus. Frankly, I wasn’t looking forward to it for a number of reasons, so I was much relieved when my friend Bedelia said she would come with me. For one thing, her Spanish is a lot better than mine. Side note here: Every time I have an exchange with the landlady, who speaks no English, and I ask her to speak slowly so that I might understand her, she does the opposite and speeds up. She then concludes the conversation by telling me that I ought to practice my Spanish. I don’t disagree with her, but if she would speak more slowly, I could get in some practice.

Timing Is Everything

I was told that there is a direct bus that leaves San Pedro at 7:15 a.m., which would give me plenty of time to get to my 11:00 a.m. appointment. I got up at 4:30 to ensure that I would be ready before stopping by Bedelia’s house at 6:30 to pick her up and together we walked into town. The bus that was at the parada was not going to Xela but to Encuentros. We were told there wouldn’t be a direct bus until 8:30. However, the Encuentros bus could get us to the Pan American where we could catch a Xela bus. Our timing was perfect as it would be for the rest of the day. No sooner had we reached the Pan American, and crossed the road, than the Xela bus came along. Note of caution here: Just as one should not sit on the first bench in a lancha, a lesson to be learned about the bus is that one should not sit on an aisle seat because you will be struggling to stay in the seat as the bus careens around “S” curves and switchbacks of which there are plenty, even on the Pan American.

I’ve Been to Alaska

Near the village of Santa Catarina Ixtahuacan, we experienced Alaska in Guatemala, or at least Cumbre (Summit) de Alaska, a mountain topping out at over 10,000 feet. On our last trip to Xela, in the private car, our driver had pointed the area out to us. Apparently it’s also one of the coldest places in Guatemala, cold being relative, of course.

Walk Anywhere in Xela in 30 Minutes

In Xela, the bus terminal is outside of town. To call it a terminal is a bit of a misnomer because it’s not an actual, physical building. It’s not even a parking lot in the sense of a large, paved area with neatly marked spaces. Instead, it’s a chaotic, outdoor area adjacent to one of the city’s many mercados with literally hundreds of buses to all destinations parked on either side and in the middle of the street. I later remarked to Bedelia that I was quite sure there’s some order to the chaos; we just didn’t know what it was.

Although I’ve since read that an “able-bodied” person should be able to walk anywhere in Xela, which, in fact, is Guatemala’s second largest city, in 30 minutes, I thought that we would probably have to take a taxi into town. But since we had arrived with time to spare, we decided we would try to find a bus that could take us. Bedelia asked a man on the street who directed us to the other side of the market where he said there would be buses. Making our way through the market was not unlike checking into a Raid Roach Motel. We walked, and walked, and walked some more among the maze of stalls, often not seeing daylight and hitting many dead-ends before finally emerging on the other side where, just as the man said, we found a mini bus to take us into town for the equivalent of 20 cents each.

The dentist’s office is located a few blocks from the city’s Central Park. Still with time to spare until my appointment, we settled in to the Starbucks of Xela for a cup of very bad coffee. Then, while I went off to my appointment, Bedelia went off to explore the downtown area. We met up again about an hour later.

Well-Prepared

The dentist was well-prepared for me. Not only had he gotten the equipment he needed, which took him some time to track down and receive, but because his English is about as good as my Spanish, he had his fiancé's brother on hand to act as translator. I’m afraid I don’t remember his name, but his English was flawless, with only a slight accent. His English teachers had all come from Texas with the exception of one who had come from Mississippi. He said he had a hard time understanding the teacher from Mississippi. I assured him that most of us have a hard time understanding people from Mississippi. This young man, who has just recently graduated from high school, will be starting a five-year dental program this week. I’m sure he will be very successful.

Just as I had expected, the dentist made an impression of my mouth on this first visit. I have two more visits scheduled in February and then I’ll be done. At the end, I’ll have a crown in place, with U.S. made hardware, that will have cost me a fraction of what I would have to pay in the States.

Goal Is Walmart

Following the dentist, our goal was to go to the Walmart, which is in a very First World area of shopping malls, and is a short, five minute walk to the bus terminal. Again, Bedelia asked a man on the street where we could get a bus to Walmart and just as we got to the corner of where we needed to be, the bus came along. Xela has no government mass transit, so people are dependent on these colectivos to get around. They are also 15-passenger vans, much like the shuttles, but unlike the shuttles, they don’t have extra seats jammed into them for the simple reason that it would be difficult for people to get on and off, so they’re not horrendously uncomfortable. However, they, too, can get crowded, making it necessary for some people to actually stand during the ride.

The crew consists of the driver and a conductor of sorts who leans out the door, yells out the destination of the bus, and collects the fare. On the trip into town, I was seated next to the driver and had to snake my legs around the gear shift lever. On the return trip, I sat in one of the rear seats.

The first thing we did when we reached the Walmart was to have some lunch at Pollo Campero. The KFC of Guatemala, Pollo Campero is practically an institution and while it has even gotten to the States, the menu and format have been “North Americanized” so that it’s almost like a different restaurant entirely.

La Torre and Cemaco

Across the street from the restaurant was a very modern, very First World supermarket, La Torre, which is just about the only chain in Guatemala not owned by Walmart. In the same mall was a Cemaco store, which I was curious to see. Cemaco is like Bed, Bath & Beyond on steroids since the warehouse-sized store also contains an in-house Ace Hardware.

At the supermarket, I picked up a few items that just aren’t available in San Pedro or at the “modern supermarket” in Panajachel, including a coveted jar of Mott’s applesauce. In the fresh bakery department, I got some cookies and some rolls filled with ham and cheese. The ham and cheese rolls at just over 65 cents each were so delicious that I was angry at myself for not getting more of them to freeze. I stopped short at getting a package of Charmin. One can’t begin to appreciate such a find until one has experienced Guate papel higiénico first hand.

I got nothing in Cemaco. But they did have all the saucepans and loaf pans I could have wanted when I had such a difficult time finding them in San Pedro.

Our final stop before going to the bus terminal was Walmart where I needed to get some toothbrushes and shaving gel. Imagine my sticker shock when I saw that the shaving gel I get at home for around $2.00 is $6.50 at Walmart. There was no way I was going to spend that much money and was, fortunately, able to find a less expensive substitute.

20 Minutes 20 Minutes

We went to the bus terminal extra early in case we encountered any problems, but we had little difficulty in finding a direct bus to San Pedro. When Bedelia asked the driver when he would be leaving, he said 20 minutes. He said the same thing to anyone else who got on and asked. It was more like four times 20 minutes before he finally pulled out. In the meantime, vendor after vendor got on the bus hawking all manner of food and merchandise. We were especially curious about a bright yellow ice cream cone that didn’t seem to melt, which we later found out was made of egg whites. Still, I wouldn’t have wanted to eat any of the food on offer since it was liberally flavored with diesel exhaust fumes from all the buses. At every stop a new set of vendors would get on the bus and start his or her pitch.

Packed In

As we rolled toward San Pedro, the bus got more and more crowded. I honestly don’t know how everyone was able to fit. Making it more difficult is the fact that Guatemalans don’t seem to want to move to allow other people in. They give a whole new meaning to “Stand Your Ground.” Bedelia and I were sitting in a front seat and, before the bus got really crowded, when there were still plenty of seats available, a man got on and planted himself on the seat next to us, effectively blocking the aisle and making it nearly impossible to board or to get off. No one, including the conductor, told him to move. The man was later replaced by a much broader hipped woman who effectively created the same bottleneck. And don’t even think about passengers staying behind the yellow line. They were practically in the driver’s lap and at one point the conductor, who had been sitting on a plastic bucket in the doorway, gave up his bucket to a young woman while he hung out the door.

We finally pulled into town at around 7:30. It had been a long day, and although we enjoyed ourselves, it’s with dread that I’m looking forward to the next appointment only because of the logistics of getting there and back. And if I do have to go by myself the next time, at least I’ll know where I’m going.

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A Mixed Bag

2014-01-12T17:43:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

Other than a trip to Panajachel last week to the “modern” supermarket, things have been generally quiet and dull and I wondered what I would write about next. This morning I finally have my inspiration. As I sit at my kitchen table, there is no water. The tap is as dry as the Mojave desert. Not a drop.

Death Throes

I made the discovery when I went to check on my laundry in the washing machine. The dial hadn’t moved and the machine was straining to fill with water. I suppose it was a good thing I went when I did to look in on it to prevent the motor from burning out. When I came back inside I turned on the tap. There was no water, and the noise it made sounded like an animal in the final throes of death.

Despacio My Mantra

So I called Miguel, the landlord. His fiancé Isabel answered the phone. While Isabel is a very lovely and warm person, she doesn’t appear to speak any English at all. I know one thing doesn’t have to do with the other. I attempted to explain the problem to her as best I could in very bad Spanish. Actually I had no trouble telling her no hay agua. Sometimes even I’m amazed by my vocabulary, although this was pretty much a no-brainer. The real problem was in my trying to understand what she was saying in return. Generally, if someone speaks slowly, I can at least get the gist or idea of what they’re saying. In talking to her, my mantra is always despacio, despacio (slowly, slowly).

If disaster brings people together, this was one of those times. I saw my normally non-communicative neighbor outside and asked him if he were also without water. He went back inside to check and when he came back out, he reported that he didn’t have water either. I explained to him that I had called Miguel and was told that the water would be back on in diez minutos. From experience I know that a Spanish diez minutos is very different from an English ten minutes.

Su Culpa

Just as I was about to call Miguel again after 20 minutes had gone by, he showed up to explain what had happened. Apparently the water is controlled from Miguel’s own house, which is just up the road. In an explanation that I’m sure would confound any U.S. water utility department, Miguel said – if I understood him correctly – there’s a tank on his property that’s very much like a toilet tank in that there’s a flapper inside that opens and closes to regulate the water. Apparently the flapper got stuck in the “up” position and the tank emptied, resulting in no water. After he finished his explanation, he pounded his chest and said, “Lo siento. Mia culpa. Mia culpa.” I didn’t need Rosetta Stone to translate for my neighbor that Miguel was saying that he’s sorry and that it’s his fault. I also had no trouble translating for Miguel when he asked me, “¿Como se dicé ‘culpa’ en inglés?”

I’m hearing the pump now, so am cautiously optimistic that there will be water when I turn on the tap. However, I’m going to wait awhile before I do so that the tank will have a chance to fill.

The Earth Shook

This comes on the heels of two very minor earthquakes last week, which may have been aftershocks from the earthquake off the coast of Cuba. The first occurred on Thursday evening. I was reading at the kitchen table when I heard a sound like a sonic boom and the house began to shake. It lasted for only a few seconds. My first thought was that it was an earthquake, but I said to myself, nah, couldn’t be. My next thought was that maybe it was a Third World military coup except I didn’t hear any machinegun fire.

The second quake came on Saturday morning at around 7:00. I was at the kitchen table again when the house began to shake without warning. It seemed to me that this quake lasted a few seconds longer than the one on Thursday. I haven’t heard of any damage from either quake.

Water update: Hooray! It’s back. Nothing like a little excitement to spice up a Sunday morning. Apparently it’s a good thing it happened to today because Miguel said he was out of town yesterday.

Technorati Tags: Pedro,Panajachel,supermarket,inspiration,Mojave,Death,Throes,discovery,machine,noise,Despacio,Mantra,Miguel,landlord,Isabel,person,English,Spanish,vocabulary,gist,disaster,times,neighbor,From,Culpa,Just,road,explanation,department,tank,toilet,chest,Rosetta,Como,Earth,earthquake,Cuba,Third,World,coup,haven,Water,Hooray,excitement,earthquakes,week,kitchen,diez,minutos,flapper

fliegen-fänger

2014-01-06T16:06:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

fliegen-fänger, from German, fly-catcher.

On a Mission

Last week I was on a mission to find a “fliegen-fänger.” No, I’m not making the word up, but I thought my friend Tim was when he said it. I ran into him in town and asked him if he knew where I could find the equivalent of a Shell Pest Strip. I had struck out at the Q3 store where I had gotten them in the past. “So,” he said, “You want a fliegen-fänger.” I replied, “Whatever.” Later, I would discover that he was telling me the brand name of a product made in Germany.

I’m talking about those old-fashioned sticky strips that you hang up, hope the fly will land on, stick to and so will never be able to bother you again. For some reason I seem to be a fly magnet. While the windows do have screens, there are gaps around them through

which flies can easily enter. But I don’t open the windows very much because it’s often chilly outside, especially at night and in the early morning. There’s also a gap under the door through which they can come in because there’s no “sweep” on the door.

Of course, if there were ordinances in place to clean up after horses and dogs, and garbage was picked up in closed trucks, there would be far fewer flies. It was much worse when I was here in the rainy season.

A Fly Killing Arsenal

We’re talking only a few flies now, but even one is annoying and disgusting enough. On several occasions I’ve looked up at the ceiling to see them hanging like bats. I have a fly swatter, but am not nearly fast enough to eliminate them. I have a can of bug spray and have literally created a Brown field in my pursuit of these filthy pests. The fliegen-fänger was one of my last, best hopes at helping to control them.

You Say Fliegen-Fänger, I Say Para Moscas

My biggest challenge, perhaps, in finding a fliegen-fänger lie in that I didn’t know how to translate the word into Spanish nor did I have any idea of how to say “fly-catcher,” “pest strip” or any other related word or description. So I began going into stores hoping to catch sight of a fliegen-fänger in the pest control section, but had no luck.

In the last store I went into I ran into Nestor, the guy who does the Sunday barbecue. I asked him if he knew how to say “pest strip” in Spanish. He said he didn’t but that he could try to describe it to the woman behind the counter. Turns out that a fliegen-fänger in Spanish is an espiral para moscas – literally, a spiral for flies. Unfortunately, there were no espirales para moscas in the store. However, through Nestor, the woman said the way to ask for them is to look up, point at the ceiling while making a spiraling motion with your finger and at the same time say, “para moscas.” Sort of like clicking your heels together and repeating “There’s no place like home.”

To say that I had been looking in all the wrong places is an understatement. The elevator finally went to the penthouse and I realized that what I really needed was a hardware store. So I went back uptown to Home Depot San Pedro-style. I felt a little silly looking up at the ceiling, twirling my finger and saying “para moscas.” But the young girl behind the counter, who couldn’t have been any older than 10 or 12, knew exactly what I wanted and set off to get them.

What she returned with was a four-pack of genuine fliegen-fängers and asked me, “¿Cuanto?” How many did I want? Although it was a blister pack, most everything here is sold individually. I asked her the cost of the four. She said Q10. That’s $1.30. I said I’ll take them all.

I wasted little time in hanging my fliegen-fängers when I got home. Now the trick is training the flies to land on them.

Technorati Tags: Pedro,German,Mission,word,friend,Shell,Pest,Strip,product,Germany,strips,magnet,door,horses,garbage,Arsenal,Brown,pursuit,pests,Fliegen,Fänger,Para,Moscas,Spanish,description,stores,luck,Nestor,woman,Sort,places,understatement,elevator,Home,Depot,girl,Cuanto,cost,ordinances,catcher,four,fängers

The Neighborhood Just Got More Exciting

2014-01-06T15:54:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

The neighborhood got more exciting to me this past Friday when I learned that there’s an alleged “red light” bar/bordello about a quarter-of-a-mile down the road. I always wondered what tuk tuks were doing out here in the evening, many with their side curtains closed, because there aren’t many houses beyond mine before the road dead ends.

I learned about the bar from Barbara, the woman who played realtor to find me my apartment, when she caught up to Gary and me as we were walking home

from Fish Night at D’Noz restaurant.

Mahi Mahi Not As Interesting as Naughty Naughty

I could pause here and tell you about the dorado (mahi mahi) I had and the monster shrimp also on the plate that judging from its outrageous size was probably caught next to a nuclear power plant. Or the potato cake side dish. Yes, I could tell you about this wonderful meal for the equivalent of $6.50. I could also tell you about the very overpriced and mediocre wine I drank. But I won’t. I think the bar/bordello is much more interesting than a critique of the food and wine. Don’t you?

How Did She Know About the Bedrooms?

It was after we left Gary off at his house that Barbara told me about the “red light” – her words – bar at the end of the road. She began by asking me if I heard any noise coming from it. In retrospect, what kind of noise was she asking about? I wasn’t even aware that there was a commercial business a few hundred meters down the road, no less a bar, legitimate or not. Barbara then went into some detail, telling me that the owner owns a restaurant in town and that there are two bedrooms in the “red light” bar. That’s a good thing I suppose; no waiting. I would hate to wait. The question begs now: How did Barbara know about the two bedrooms? I was either too surprised or too fascinated at the time to ask her.

An Opposing View

On Sunday, as I was making my way to the weekly barbecue, I ran into Patricia on the road and asked her what she knew about the bar/bordello. She refuted all that Barbara had told me, saying that she and her partner Johnny know the owner and all he’s done is to open a bar in which he sells drinks and a few staples such as toilet paper. That’s not all that strange here as many stores sell items that you would never expect them to carry. But when I was out there earlier today taking pictures to include with this post, I didn’t see any signs advertising toilet paper. Patricia claims that Johnny asked the owner point blank about the bordello, which, of course, the owner denied.

Corroboration … of a Sort

As if to corroborate Barbara’s story, this morning I ran into another friend, Diana, at the Internet café and told her about the excitement at the end of the road. Based on an experience she and her then boyfriend had with the owner in his restaurant in town, Diana said she was more inclined to believe Barbara’s version of the story.

I’m inclined to believe Barbara’s version, too, just because I like it better. Of course, nobody has any hard evidence of anything illicit going on there. I suppose I could do my own research into the matter, but why ruin a good story?

Technorati Tags: Pedro,road,Barbara,woman,apartment,Gary,Fish,restaurant,Mahi,size,dish,meal,food,Bedrooms,words,noise,owner,View,Patricia,Johnny,drinks,toilet,paper,stores,items,pictures,signs,Corroboration,Sort,friend,Diana,Internet,café,excitement,version,meters,bordello

Viva “Feliz Año Nuevo” in San Pedro

2014-01-01T14:55:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

Bad things always happen at inconvenient times. Why, for example, when the smoke detectors in my house need new batteries do they go off at midnight rather than midday? Yesterday, because it was a holiday no doubt, something happened here that I had been anticipating with dread: the gas used to heat the hot water finally ran out and the tank needed to be replaced. Not unlike the smoke detectors going off at an inconvenient time, the gas ran out midway through my shower, leaving me to rinse off in cold water. I would have been less annoyed and not left shivering if it had happened while I was, say, washing dishes.

Propane Is Just Not My Thing

I live in an all-electric house, so I don’t know a great deal about propane gas tanks and Hot Water on Demand units. Nonetheless, I wanted to be sure that the tank was truly empty before calling the landlord and bothering him on New Year’s Eve. I knew from previous experience with Hot Water on Demand that sometimes, for no apparent reason, the hot water will give out but by turning the water off and then on again a few minutes later the hot water will return.

Like Heating a Pot on The Stove

Or, many of these units are powered by two D cell flashlight batteries. The batteries supply the spark that lights the gas burner that in turn heats the water. It’s not unlike heating a pot of water on a gas stove. It’s not often that the batteries are dead but sometimes it’s necessary to jiggle them in their holder to get them going. I tried both turning off the water and jiggling the batteries to no avail. That left the gas tank.

I think these tanks supply enough gas to last about a month with normal use, and I was right on schedule. I lifted the tank slightly to try to determine if there was any gas in it, and it did feel lighter than the two tanks beside it. But even empty these tanks are heavy. It was nearing 5 o’clock and I thought it was definitely time now to call in the landlord.

Gas or No Gas?

Miguel was here within 10 minutes and determined definitively that the tank was empty. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next because it was now 5 o’clock on New Year’s Eve. Would Miguel be able to get a tank of gas delivered? And, if he was, would I have to wait for it? I had showered in preparation for two parties to which I had been invited.

Miguel made a phone call and said a replacement tank would be delivered in an hour. He told me it wasn’t necessary for me to be here when it arrived, so when I got home around midnight there was hot water once again. While I was anticipating the worst, the situation turned out to be minor … for a change.

Party Time

It was a great relief knowing that I would have hot water when I got home. I know that some people would think that not having hot water isn’t a big deal but sometimes little creature comforts make all the difference.

This, of course, put me behind schedule and made me late for Ricardo and Teresa’s party, which was a sit down dinner. I was embarrassed that I had held up the other guests. Their home isn’t very far away and I walked as fast as I could. At one point Gary sent me a text message saying that I should take a tuk tuk. Even if one had magically appeared, there’s a point of diminishing returns. That’s the point where you’re not quite to your destination but you’re close enough that it would be ridiculous to take a tuk tuk. I was at that point.

When I finally did arrive, the other guests were up on the roof having wine and cheese and crackers. I was supposed to bring salsa to accompany the nachos that Gary was bringing. When I gave it to Teresa, she remarked that they were already past that point. I don’t know if I turned red or not.

It was an interesting assortment of people and the most people I’ve met here from the Eastern U.S. Ricardo is from Massachusetts as were three of the other guests, myself included, and another was from Maine. Teresa is British and I was curious as to how she and Ric met. She told me they met in Greece.

Butterball at The Center

At the center of the meal was a genuine Butterball turkey. Gary and I had missed out on the turkey at the Christmas Eve open house we went to, but we made up for it with this bird. There were mashed potatoes, roasted potatoes, stuffing, roasted vegetables and salad to go along with it.

After dinner we went back up to the roof to digest a bit before having dessert, which was cheesecake and brownies. Putting a little of each together was sinfully delicious. I don’t know who it was that suggested we should play a game. Scott, the guy from Maine, described to us a game he used to play called “Half Ass.” I won’t go into details here; just use your imagination.

Not Up to “Half Ass”

We decided we weren’t quite up to playing “Half Ass” and Ric came up with a box of cards on which there were song titles that you had to hum and everyone had to guess at the song. Sort of a “Name That Tune.” I’m sorry to say that my humming abilities are right up there with my singing abilities and both are best confined to the shower, preferably with the bathroom door closed. Shortly after 7 o’clock, Gary and I excused ourselves to go to Jan’s house.

On The Roof Again

At Jan’s we were again up on the roof, under her palapa. There seems to be a roof theme here, doesn’t there? Throughout the rest of the evening people – some that I knew and some that I didn’t – drifted in and out. I was a bit surprised when Kevin and Juan Carlos arrived because their house had been robbed the day before and that night Kevin had come through the Vortex – the area near the Panajachel dock – ranting and raving about Guatemala and not in a good way. He seemed very calm last night. It’s unfortunate that I hear about these kinds of home invasions all too often here.

It didn’t take long for the story to get around town. It is, after all, a small place where nearly everyone knows your face. I heard about it shortly after it happened. Then, last night at Ric and Teresa’s, Canadian Bob came in and announced to no one in particular but to everyone: “Did you hear about Kevin last night?” I had run into Canadian Bob earlier in the day and he gave me his first person account of the incident; he happened to be in the Vortex when Kevin came through. I was personally thankful to have missed the excitement.

Gary and I left Jan’s just after 11:30. We were feeling the effects of a little too much wine and wanted to make sure we got home safely. At that hour I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that we would find a tuk tuk and we began to slowly walk home. Much to my amazement, we did come upon a tuk tuk that was still operating. Frankly, I wasn’t relishing the walk since I’m five minutes beyond Gary’s house and just getting there was going to be chore.

Does Anyone Remember?

It was just midnight as I climbed my stairs. But as far as I was concerned, the New Year had started an hour earlier when it was midnight on the East Coast and the ball had dropped in Times Square. That makes it official. Does anyone remember that before Ryan Seacrest, before Dick Clark, before color television, there was Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians performing at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York?

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Christmas in San Pedro

2013-12-29T13:15:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

Today I’m not feeling well and so am not going to the Sunday barbecue. I’m going to use the time instead to try to make up for neglecting my blog. Yesterday I went to Panajachel and I think the cause of my enfermedad this morning is a hamburger and fries I had for lunch at a Uruguayan steakhouse there. Gary came over for dinner last night and I remarked to him that I was feeling a little nauseous. Then I remembered coming away nauseous the last time I ate there and vow now never again. I should have stuck with the curried rice and vegetables I usually have when I go to Pana.

Not What I Expected

Christmas was not at all what I was expecting. In fact, in town on Christmas day, many of the stores were open and it was pretty much business as usual, although there were far fewer people out than normal. The stores were not open for after Christmas sales. I don’t think the concept exists here.

Christmas Eve seems to be a far bigger event than Christmas day. I made the huge mistake of going to the market on Christmas Eve day for some vegetables. The market was even more crowded and chaotic than usual because in addition to the regular vendors, other vendors had set up stalls all up and down the middle of the street. Were those genuine Levi’s for cheap, or were they knock-offs? At the same time a holiday program was going on in the basketball court adjacent to the market, which only added to the general confusion.

Panic Attack

All of it conspired to give me a near panic attack. I couldn’t take the crowd. All I wanted to do was to get out, but the sheer number of people made movement impossible. Guatemalans do not give way. They stand their ground. While we may think that’s rude, I think it’s just their culture. Nothing personal. It took some considerable effort to extricate myself.

Open House

Gary and I had been invited to an open house later that afternoon. It was being held by Stacy and Erin whom I met on my last trip here. One of them is a “he” and the other a “she,” but I can never keep straight which is which. They live in the house next to the place I stayed in last time. We were lured by promises of turkey but by the time we arrived the bird had been completely devoured and as a consolation prize we had to settle for chicken.

The guests also brought all manner of covered dishes, some of it real gringo food that I don’t think I’ll see the likes of again until I’m back in the States. Our contribution was a collaboration: vegetables and Ranch-style dip. It was fortunate that I had brought packets of Ranch dressing with me, or it would have been much more challenging to come up with something. We’re making the same contribution to a New Year’s Eve party. Any parties after that and it will have to be onion dip.

It was fun to mingle with people that we know, and it was fun for me to meet new ones as well. In a place like this, there are a lot of interesting and eclectic personalities. I also satisfied my curiosity about the house “next door” with a self-guided tour. There’s an incredible view from the roof deck.

Following the open house, we went to Jan’s and sat in her rooftop palapa, sipping wine, talking and admiring the view. There was a “pajama party” that evening at the Barrio bar and we were treated to the sight of Dave Taylor in his pajamas and robe on the way to the party.

I left Jan’s shortly after 10. There were no tuk tuks available at that hour, so it was necessary to walk home. Because it was late, and even though I had my flashlight, I must admit that I was a little afraid of the walk because there are some really dark patches between there and here. But surprising to me were the number of tiendas that were still open along the way and the number of people still out on the street, which gave me a little more confidence. I made it home without incident and in plenty of time to see the fireworks displays set off at midnight in the villages around the lake. Guatemalans have a fascination for fireworks, and this was really their night to shine.

Holiday Garbage

Garbage isn’t something one usually thinks a lot about in the States. You set it out at the curb and somehow it disappears. Even if garbage day falls on a holiday, make-up day is usually the next day. I’ve written before about the challenges of garbage pick-up here. How you have to be home when the garbage man comes to hand him your bag and a Quetzal. Because garbage day is Wednesday, and because both Christmas and New Year’s days both fall on a Wednesday this year, the garbage is problematic. One cannot assume that the next day will be the make-up day nor can one can one assume that there will be a make-up day at all. Because Gary lives close by, we were assuming that there would be no make-up day. But, lo and behold, they came on Friday. In a classic case of your ship coming in while you’re at the airport, the garbage truck came while I was at the Internet café.

So now I’m faced with two problems: Will this Friday be make-up day again, and how do I store two weeks’ worth of garbage until then? Without going into the exact details of why, all in all, it’s not a good position in which to be.

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Field Trip

2013-12-29T13:12:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

I’ve been neglectful of my blog over the past week, but I intend to remedy that while I sit here at the Internet café waiting for my video to download. Coming to the café is a big part of my daily routine, so much so now that the waitress doesn’t even have to ask me anymore for my order. She knows and brings it automatically. Café con leche. For the equivalent of $1.30 I can sit here for hours sucking up the free Wi-Fi. At the apartment I’m limited to an air card, which is barely useful for email. I have to step outside the apartment to actually get a usable signal.

Field Trip

This past Monday, Gary, Bedelia and I went to Xela (a/k/a Quetzaltenango), which is about a three-hour ride from San Pedro. It would be a much shorter ride but for the condition of the road from San Pedro to the Pan American Highway. To say that the road is bad isn’t really adequate enough. We hired a private car and split the cost. The drive might also have been a little shorter but for Chico, the driver. He was very proud of his car – a Chevy Aveo – and was being very careful driving it. I can’t say I blame him for that.

Gary was going to Xela to visit a friend in the hospital; I had an appointment with a dentist about a crown I need to complete an implant; and Bedelia came along for the ride.

Chico left Bedelia and I in the central square to find the dentist’s office while he took Gary to the hospital. Bedelia’s Spanish is a whole lot better than mine and it was she who got us to the dentist. If someone had told us it was opposite Giuseppe's “World Famous” Pizza, I would have known immediately where the office is located. I’ve eaten at Giuseppe’s and, believe me, his pizza is world famous only in his own mind.

At the Dentist’s Office

Once at the dentist’s office, we were greeted by Claudia, the receptionist, who gave me some paperwork to fill out. Of course, it was all in Spanish but between Bedelia and myself, I think we do a pretty good job of deciphering it. There were only a few things we couldn’t figure out, but they were apparently unimportant because the dentist didn’t question me about them.

I was very impressed by his office, which was clean and modern. His English was marginally better than my Spanish, but with the help of his fiancé, who herself is an orthodontist, we were able to manage.

I’m not altogether sure what he did while he was in my mouth, but I think he removed the implant to examine it more closely and showed it to me. Quite honestly, I wasn’t especially interested in seeing it that close up and personal. After he looked at it, he put it back in my mouth and asked me a few questions.

The X-Ray

He then took an x-ray. The x-ray equipment was not next to the chair as it usually is but was located in a separate room. After seating me in a very upright wooden chair, he draped the lead apron on me, positioned the x-ray machine and stuck the x-ray film in my mouth. What happened next surprised me. Instead of telling me to bit down on the film in my mouth to hold it in place, he stuck his gloved fingers in my mouth to hold it in place while his fiancé stood outside the room and snapped the picture. I very much doubt that his gloves were lead lined and if he does this on a daily basis, I’m surprised that his fingers don’t glow in the dark from the exposure. The equipment was very modern and up-to-date; the image showed up on a computer screen almost as soon as it was taken.

In order to proceed now the dentist needs some additional information from the oral surgeon who performed the implant in the first place. I emailed him for the information, which I’ve already received. The cost of the consultation, including the x-ray – get ready for this – was $13. I had to ask Claudia to repeat the price; I was in reverse sticker shock. Until the dentist reviews the additional information, he’s unable to quote me a price for the crown. But I’m sure it’s going to be pocket change compared to the States.

The Mother Lode of Kitchen Stores

After the dentist, Bedelia and I made our way back to the central park and explored the area while we waited for Gary to finish at the hospital. In our exploration we discovered what we think is the mother lode of all kitchen stores in Guatemala. Very high end pots, pans and gadgets. Like most small tiendas in Guatemala, “inventory control” seems chaotic at best or non-existent. But somehow, when asked for a specific item, the clerk will know exactly what pile it’s in and head right over to it. Bedelia and I were just trying to take in everything that was in the shop.

I bought an oven thermometer since, as I’ve described earlier, Barbie’s Dream House oven has only an off/on knob; there are no temperature markings, so there’s no way to know the temperature in the oven. Food can go from raw to incinerated in seconds. I used the thermometer on Thursday and found it challenging to keep the oven at a constant 350 degrees. It involved turning the knob higher, then lower, then higher again and even opening the oven door to let in some air to cool the oven down.

Mission at Walmart

When we all met up again, we had Chico drive us to the very “First World” mall where my mission was to find a moderately priced toaster oven at Walmart. My last trip to Guatemala I had bought a comforter there on our way back from Mexico. This is a Super Walmart, folks. Not as Super as in the U.S. but Super enough to have a Proctor Silex toaster oven with dual temperature setting in both Fahrenheit and Centigrade for around $35. I was a happy traveler because I now have a means of toasting bread and broiling things whereas I didn’t before. Even something as simple as a toaster at an affordable price is difficult to come by in San Pedro and I can think of only one store in town where a toaster would even be available.

Because it was two days before Christmas, the mall was packed. We had lunch in the Food Court and while you can take the boy out of the U.S., you can’t take the U.S. out of the boy. I was hard pressed to choose between Burger King and Taco Bell. I settled on Burger King; the line at Taco Bell was too long. But the Whopper Jr. I had seemed to be missing just a little something.

It was interesting to see Guatemalans in their native costume shopping the mall and in the Food Court every table was packed. Bedelia found us a table next to a family of Guatemalans who were enjoying their Pollo Campero fried chicken. Pollo Campero is to Guatemala as KFC is to the U.S. It’s practically an institution here. At other tables, people were eating their Pollo Campero with tortillas that they had gotten elsewhere.

Altogether I spent Q747, or about $94, in Walmart. Of course, the toaster oven took up a large amount of the total. I also bought a few household items that were missing here; some health and beauty aids (liquid bath gel isn’t so easy to get around here); and, of course, some groceries, including three pounds of ground beef.

The Phantom Pullman

I’ll have to go back to Xela sometime after the beginning of the year to see the dentist again. However, I won’t have the luxury of the private car and driver and will have to rely on the chicken bus. There is an “alleged” first-class Pullman bus that also makes the trip and although we’ve seen the bus in the bus yard nearby, we’ve never actually seen it move, or know anyone personally who has traveled on it. However, rumors abound.

One day while passing by the bus yard, Gary and I spotted someone on the bus who might have been a driver. We asked him the schedule. The information he gave us would mean there would have to be a fleet of buses to meet the schedule, and in fact there’s only one of these buses. Regardless of whether it be the Pullman or the chicken bus, the bus terminal in Xela is within a short walking distance of Walmart.

(Updated 12/29/2013. Next: Christmas in San Pedro.)

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Pub Quiz

2013-12-19T14:45:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

Last night was “Pub Quiz” at El Barrio bar. Pub Quiz is as much an institution on Wednesday evenings in San Pedro as is the barbecue on Sunday. In fact, many of the same people come to both, so there are a lot of familiar faces. Of course, the purpose of the Quiz is to create business for the bar, which it succeeds in doing very well.

Participants in the Quiz create teams of four players. Carl, the owner, suggested that the teams be diversified; that is, a team shouldn’t consist of all Americans or all Canadians and, he said, Australians are on their own. Each team is instructed to choose a name for itself. Our team – the San Pedro Stars – consisted of myself, Bedelia, Gary and Juan Carlos. Two Americans, one half American/half Canadian and a guatemalteco. I have to admit that our diversity wasn’t quite what Carl had suggested and since the Quiz is conducted in English, it was difficult for Juan Carlos. Both Bedelia and Gary did their best to translate the questions into Spanish for Juan Carlos. As for me, I fed Bedelia Spanish words when she was at a loss for them. We developed a sort of symbiotic relationship; I have a lot of vocabulary but she has the fluency. I keep saying I’m going back to Spanish school, but I haven’t quite gotten there yet.

A Lot Like Trivial Pursuit

The Quiz is similar to Trivial Pursuit. There are 40 questions in eight categories. There were geography questions – What is the official language of Togo? – religion questions – What religion celebrates Purim? – and Christmas holiday themed questions – From where does England get its Christmas tree that’s placed in Trafalgar Square? My guess was Canada, which made perfect sense to me but to no one else on the team and was incorrect anyway. I did have the answer to what country owns Christmas Island however? I don’t have a clue from where I pulled that information. (Answers below.)

We pretty much bombed in the comedian category. Sound clips of different comedians were played and we were supposed to identify who each one was. I didn’t recognize any of them, but I was expecting comedians that are a generation or two removed from a majority of the players there.

Who Lives in Drury Lane?

There were also nursery rhyme questions. What was Little Miss Muffet eating and who lives in Drury Lane? It was the second question that got me. You know how you just know the answer to something and can’t get it out? I knew who lives in Drury Lane, but I just couldn’t get it out. But sure enough when I heard the answer, I had no trouble getting out an expletive to express my frustration.

Prizes for the winning team included a choice of Q100 in cash, four all-you-can-eat Saturday brunches or a six-pack of imported beer. Q100 sounds like a lot of money, but it’s only $13. There was also the chance to double the money on a hi-low card draw. The San Pedro Stars were anything but; our team came in dead last. But as they say, it’s not whether you win or lose but how you play the game. We were an enthusiastic team and as the underdogs we’re looking to come from behind at the next Pub Quiz.

Scratched Panajachel Plans

Bedelia and I had planned to go to Panajachel on Wednesday morning but canceled our trip due to the wind. It’s been very windy the past few days. Great for drying laundry; not so great for boat rides. We talked about perhaps going to San Juan but deferred the decision while Bedelia went to look at a house and I set off to do some errands “upstairs” as many people refer to town since it’s a steep climb from the two dock areas. I expect to have an extraordinary heart and shapely calf muscles by the time I return home from just walking into town.

We later met up and talked about having some lunch and going to San Juan and in the end decided to just let things unfold. As someone said to me, when he’s asked what he does here all day, his response is that he doesn’t really know but that it takes all day for him to do it. I’m finding that to be very true.

Holiday Baking Challenges

Bedelia and I started walking and we spotted Jan on her balcony. After a brief hello, she invited us in to visit for awhile. Jan is in the midst of her holiday baking, which isn’t without its challenges; finding ingredients and operating the stove. While Jan has a much more elaborate stove than my Barbie’s Dream House oven, both stoves come down to the same basic issue: temperature control. Basically, Guatemalan stoves have two settings: On and Off, or Maximum and Minimum. You set the control to Maximum to light the burner and then turn it down towards Minimum. However, there seems little difference between Maximum and Minimum and a pot will boil as much at Minimum as it will at Maximum.

Ovens present an even greater challenge because they don’t have any temperature settings. Like the stovetop, the oven is either on or off and unless you can find an oven thermometer – a simple household item not easily found here – you’re on your own to guestimate the temperature and the cooking time. Something in the oven can go from raw to incinerated in seconds. Jan’s secret is to turn the heat off and on and to open and close the oven door a couple of time during the cooking cycle.

She hesitantly took out a banana bread cake she had baked earlier in the morning. She was afraid that it was ruined because the bottom was a bit overdone. However, the cake proved to be moist and delicious. She says she’s going to place some aluminum foil on the bottom of the oven to act as a heat diffuser. I don’t know how well that will work since the only aluminum foil I’ve seen here is thin enough to read a newspaper through.

The Price Is Not Right

One of my reasons for wanting to go to Pana yesterday was to look for a toaster oven. Since we didn’t go, we went to an appliance/furniture/bedding/stereo/TV you-name-it store here in town. Turns out the store is not unlike Rent-a-Center where you make monthly payments toward owning something that would have cost a fraction of the price almost anywhere else if you were able to afford it.

The store had one toaster oven. A Panasonic. Not a deluxe model by any means, but it would have been adequate for my purpose. The price seemed right, too. Under $20. That is, until the saleswoman told us that was por mes – per month. The actual cost was closer to $76. If this were The Price Is Right, I would put the cost of this particular toaster oven at $29.95. Take off the brand name and save $10. At least now I have a basis for comparison when I do get to the Walmart in Xela.

A Leisurely Lunch

As for lunch, Bedelia and I ended up at Casa Blanca, a restaurant and hostel owned by an Israeli and frequented by the many Israelis who pass through town. Casa Blanca has an excellent hummus platter served with pita bread and sour vegetables, which really taste better than they sound, that we shared. At Q32 (under $3.00), I couldn’t buy the hummus on the platter alone at home for this price.

After lunch, well, it was time for siesta until Pub Quiz.

(Pub Quiz Answers: French; Judaism; Norway; Australia; curds and whey; the Muffin Man. How many did you get correct?)

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First Drug Dealer of the Season Spotted

2013-12-13T13:35:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

On Thursday, I encountered my first drug dealer of the season, unless one counts the man who sits at the entrance to his souvenir shop and mutters “ganja” under his breath every time I pass. Usually, one of the pan de banano ladies sits diagonally across the street from him. “¿Quiere pan? ¿Quiere pan?” she hawks. Through three previous trips to San Pedro I haven’t wanted her bread and doubt I ever will. I tasted it once and the “ganja” from the man across the street would probably be fresher and taste better, too.

I met the street dealer while I was on my way to the Internet café to have lunch and to suck up more of their Wi-Fi. The cafe makes a great ham sandwich. They also make an omelet sandwich with cream cheese, avocado and lettuce and tomato. It’s a bit unusual, I think, but delicious.

I first ran into my friend Bedalia on the street who decided that she would come with me to the café. I was happy for the company. On the way, we talked about our friend Jan and, lo and behold, we spotted her in a small tienda and went in to talk to her. This really is a small town and generally when you either think of someone or ask about them, you’re practically guaranteed to run into them.

After we had talked a bit, I stepped outside into the path of the drug dealer who asked me first if I had a light. I suppose it was to light the poorly rolled joint that was in his hand. I said, “Lo siento.” Sorry, I don’t smoke. Maybe he thought I meant cigarettes because he then asked me if I wanted to buy some weed. I turned him down as kindly as I could because I determined him to be either stoned, or drunk or both and he might take my refusal in a negative light. He did ask for a dollar. I don’t know why he would think I would be carrying dollars here and told him, “No tengo nada.” My Spanish may be bad overall, but I can come up with the right phrase when necessary. It’s interesting to me – and I remarked about it later to Bedalia – that the drug dealers all seem to have a working knowledge of English. I can’t help but wonder if there’s a secret trade school in town where wannabe dealers are taught just enough English to make the sale.

I still see from time to time the drug dealer who pursued me all over town for two days on a previous trip. He’s branched out into bicycle and motorcycle rentals. I’m glad to see that he’s expanding into other areas.

Technorati Tags: Drug,Dealer,Season,Pedro,souvenir,shop,breath,street,Quiere,Through,haven,bread,Internet,café,friend,Bedalia,path,Sorry,Maybe,refusal,dollar,Spanish,knowledge,English,sale,bicycle,motorcycle,dealers,rentals,areas,ganja

Garbage Day Is Wednesday

2013-12-12T14:09:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

I had written previously that I was waiting for the arrival of the garbage man. I had been told as many different days as the number of people I asked. One in particular, whose knowledge I trusted, insisted that “out where you live” they come on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but don’t trust that they’ll be there on Tuesday. Thursday, she said with conviction, is a more reliable day.

So believing in Patricia that the garbage man would come today, I set off about my business yesterday. I was going to meet my friend Esther in town and then we were going back to her house in San Juan. My first clue that something was amiss was when I saw my neighbor – the one of clothespin fame – had has bag at the ready. Still, I went about my business.

It was perhaps a quarter of a mile into my walk into town that I heard the “A-oo-gah, A-oo-gah” sound of the garbage truck as the garbage man laid on the horn to announce his arrival. The truck was still somewhat distant and I did the only thing I could think to do. I turned around and jogged home, arriving minutes before the truck. It’s not an easy job when you’re 5,000 feet up and are used to walking at sea level.

I might have been a little flushed and out of breath, but no way was I going to miss the garbage man. I had just too much stuff that needed to go.

I was standing at the curb, bag and Quetzel in hand, as the truck approached. While one man wrestled with the bag, I handed the driver my money and he gave me this receipt for one bag of garbage.

I can say definitely now that garbage day is Wednesday, except that vegetation is picked up on Monday. Fortunately, I don’t have to contend with that.

Technorati Tags: Garbage,Pedro,arrival,knowledge,Tuesdays,Thursdays,conviction,Patricia,friend,Esther,Juan,clue,neighbor,fame,truck,breath,Quetzel,money,receipt,vegetation,feet

The Clothespin War

2013-12-12T14:06:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

I wrote previously that I wasn’t territorial about my clothespins, that I left them on the clothesline and didn’t care whether or not my non-communicative neighbor used or didn’t use them. I figured that was part of my penance for unknowingly putting my garbage in his garbage can the first few days I was here.

But today that’s changed. No more Mr. Nice Guy. This is clothespin war! Today is laundry day and with the uncertainties of the “solar dryer” – wind speed, direction, sunny or overcast – the earlier the laundry is started, the better. These are compelling reasons to take a hint from the local women who are down at the lake doing their laundry even before the sun rises.

I got up at 6 a.m. to do laundry. It was barely light, so I count that as my first achievement, that I got up that early and was sorting clothes in semi-darkness. There is no light in the area where the washing machine is located.

My second achievement is that I finally figured out the settings on the machine, which, of course, are in Spanish. No need to worry about temperature settings. There’s only one: frio. So there’s no need for a temperature selector nor is there one on the machine. I’m still at a loss, though, to understand why the fire hazard warning is in English.

After about 35 minutes I came back to the washing machine and loaded the clothes into a plastic bag to take them to the solar dryer area, which is a steep flight up from the laundry deck. Imagine my displeasure at finding most of my clothespins gone. He had taken them with his own laundry. Where does he think clothespins come from? The Clothespin Fairy? No! They make their way to Guatemala from a factory in China and are sold 20 to a pack at the Q3 store.

In war, you really need to pick and choose your battles. I didn’t see this as a battle worth fighting. My thought is to make it a psychological war instead. So I went to the Q3 store this morning and bought three more packages of clothespins. Moving forward, I will no longer leave my clothespins out for him to use but will bring them back inside with me. I suppose if I really wanted to mess with him I could leave one of the packages dangling from the clothesline.

Technorati Tags: Clothespin,Pedro,neighbor,penance,garbage,uncertainties,direction,lake,achievement,area,machine,Spanish,temperature,English,Imagine,displeasure,Where,Fairy,Guatemala,factory,China,worth,packages,clothespins,clothesline,laundry,dryer

Garbage Day – Maybe

2013-12-09T10:58:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

This morning I’m waiting for the garbage truck. Pick-up here is very different from what it is in the States, or at least where I live. Sooner or later today – and I hope it’s sooner – the garbage truck will come rumbling down the road and when the driver leans on his horn, that’s the signal to run out with your bag of garbage and hand it to the men who are standing in the back of the open air truck, or walking alongside it, with a Quetzel (about 13 cents) to take it away.
Other people have found some ingenious ways for getting around the wait. I heard about one resourceful person who suspends his bag from his patio, which apparently is just slightly higher than the truck, and tapes the money to the bag. As the truck passes, one of the men in the truck snatches the bag. I had hoped that the landlord would take care of the garbage and spare me the bother. There is, in fact, a garbage can on the shared porch, which I thought was a communal can for both apartments. Turns out I was putting my garbage in my neighbor’s can. Battles have been fought over less but even this transgression wasn’t enough for him to speak to me. Perhaps because he has been using my clothespins. Fortunately for him, I’m not territorial about them.

Will The Organics Get Along With The Inorganics This Week?

The landlord has since provided me with my own brand spanking new garbage can and told me that pickup is on Monday and Wednesday. Apparently one day is reserved for organics and the other for inorganics. Sorry, I didn’t know that and this week my organics are co-mingled with my inorganics. I’ll hope they’ll get along together at least until they get to the dump where, if things haven’t changed, the garbage will all be burned. When I asked the landlord approximately when I might expect the truck to come, he shrugged his shoulders. I got the impression that I’ll be lucky if it comes at all. Fortunately, the only thing I have on my schedule today is to go to the Internet café to download more TV programs.

Don’t Know What I’m Doing But It Takes All Day To Do It

I wouldn’t mind getting my hair cut today, too. An acquaintance I ran into on Saturday said that when people ask him what he does here all day, his response is that he doesn’t know but that it takes all day to do it. I put that here only by way of saying that if I don’t get my hair cut today, I’ll get it done tomorrow. The barber was out of town for awhile and I was glad to see that he’s back. This would be the barber whose English consists solely of “Baby, Baby, Sex Machine.” I told him the last time I was here that I thought there were better teachers for him than James Brown. My major job will be to communicate to him that I don’t want it as short as he cut it the last time. Medio apparently means something different to him than it does to me.

A Course of Self-Improvement

Something else I have vowed to do this week is to enroll in Spanish school. As often as I’ve traveled to Guatemala, my Spanish should be pretty fluent. It’s not, and I don’t want to embarrass myself any further by starting out a conversation with mi español no es tan bueno, or relying on others to translate for me. I’ve been collecting recommendations from people and have gotten as many recommendations as there are schools in town, which are plenty. My last experience in Spanish school was conjugating verbs for four hours a day for a week. I’m not anxious to repeat this and am inquiring about conversational classes only.

Cheap Cell Phones Have Cheap Cameras

Yesterday was the weekly barbecue. I took a few pictures with my cell phone that I was going to use to decorate this post. Lesson learned: cheap cell phones have cheap cameras that don’t produce very good results. I wanted to illustrate how high the lake has risen since I left here at the end of July. The water is lapping at the entrance – you could almost pull up in a boat – and the area where we used to sit is now completely under water.

A Very Veggie Challenge

Gary has invited six people over to dinner on Thursday and committed himself to making a Thanksgiving-style meal complete with Butterball turkey, stuffing and even cranberry sauce. He handed me the challenge of bringing a vegetable. I know that sounds easy, but here not so much. My first thought was green bean casserole. How more traditional can you get? I have the mushroom soup – I bought a four pack of Campbell’s when we stopped at Price Smart in the city – and instead of canned green beans, which don’t exist here, I would use fresh green beans, which I can pick up at the mercado. The missing ingredient: the crispy French fried onions for the topping. This will certainly give me something to think about while I continue to wait for the garbage man.

Technorati Tags: Garbage,Pedro,truck,road,Quetzel,person,patio,money,landlord,fact,porch,neighbor,transgression,Organics,Inorganics,Week,Sorry,Internet,café,hair,acquaintance,response,English,Baby,Machine,James,Brown,Medio,Course,Self,Improvement,Spanish,Guatemala,conversation,classes,Cheap,Cell,Cameras,pictures,Lesson,results,lake,boat,Very,Veggie,Challenge,Gary,dinner,meal,Butterball,turkey,sauce,soup,Campbell,Price,Smart,ingredient,French,teachers,recommendations,barber,beans

Cleaning Day

2013-12-06T21:32:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

(Note: Please excuse me if you’ve emailed me and it takes awhile for me to respond to you. I’m not ignoring you; it’s this miserable USB modem I had to purchase to have any Internet access at all from my apartment. Sometimes I’ll have five bars and sometimes I’ll have one bar. Most of the time, after I’ve logged in, it will go from four or five bars to one bar in the blink of an eye. So I’ve been relying on a local Internet café where for the price of a café con leche I can sit an suck up the Wi-Fi, although, today, it, too, was running slow.)

Cleaning Day

I’m in a bit of a hurry this morning. Lesley, the cleaning person, is coming to clean the apartment this afternoon at one o’clock. But I had to come to the Internet café to download last night’s episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and Scandal. I understand that next week is the season finale of Scandal and I have too much time invested in the series not to miss an episode.

Earlier this morning, Isabel, the landlord’s wife, knocked on the door to let me know that Lesley would be coming today and every Friday from here on. I’m not sure I understood everything Isabel was telling me. My Spanish is bad and her English is pretty non-existent. I think I’m to track Lesley’s hours and to report them to Isabel, and I hope I got it across that I would like to have the bed sheets changed. There’s only one set of sheets in the apartment and I’m afraid that if I wash them, they won’t dry in time to put back on the bed before I go to sleep.

While it’s convenient having a washing machine here, the dryer is of the solar variety, and I have to share that with my non-verbal neighbor who had the audacity to use my clothespins. My first encounter with the washing machine was an enlightening experience. It’s a full-size, top loading, American-style Whirlpool. There is no temperature selector. No need. There’s only one temperature setting anyway: cold. But the real challenge was the cycle selector. How naive I was to think the selector would be in English because it’s a Whirlpool? The electrical hazard warning is in English, but not the cycle selector. What’s with that? I did eventually figure it out, though.

Barbie’s Dream House Oven Also a Challenge

I’m happy to report that my small dinner party with Gary on Wednesday turned out well. I made meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans. Real American comfort food. Much like it took a village to help me find a saucepan, it also took a village to cook the dinner. Barbie’s Dream House oven doesn’t have any temperature markings. You set the regulator to maximum and as the gas starts pouring into the oven, you hold a match or a sparker to light the burner, much like you would do with an outdoor gas grill. I had never used a sparker no less seen one. I knew I would need matches to light the stove, and given the quality of Guatemalan matches, I opted to get a butane gas lighter in Antigua. It wasn’t until I got to San Pedro that I realized I had picked up a sparker instead. No problem. It accomplishes the same thing only instead of a flame it creates a spark to light the gas. Just imagine a Taser except that the sparker uses one AA battery. I may bring it home to light my grill. In any event, Gary had to advise me on the oven settings. I think I have the hang of it now.

Another Happy Reunion

Yesterday, another of our friends, Bedalia, arrived in town, and we had a wonderful reunion dinner at The Clover. I met Bedalia on my last trip. She left to go back to the States about a week before I did, and her leaving was very depressing to me. So it was especially good to see her and hear what she had been doing over the past five months. Thursday nights are “Steak Night” at The Clover and for Q75 – the equivalent of $9.50 – I had filet mignon in a sesame ginger sauce that was absolutely fantastic with mixed vegetables and mashed potatoes.

How to Make Your Own Swiffer

I’m happy to report that I was home in plenty of time for Lesley and that she did a fantastic job of cleaning the place. I didn’t fully realize how dusty it really was. She worked steadily for two hours. It was interesting to see her version of a Swiffer. You take an old towel, double it over and cut a hole so that it slips over the handle of a broom and covers the bristles. Dampen the towel first. Next, you use an old liquid detergent bottle filled with cleaning solution, which you splatter on the floor and then mop it with your Swiffer substitute. What a great way to recycle old towels.

Tomorrow I have a lunch date with Diana, another old acquaintance, whom I was glad to see is still in town. She works for a non-profit organization and last I saw her before I left, she was going to Africa. That didn’t happen, however. Lucky for me. It’s been really great catching up with friends here.

Also tomorrow, my friend Jan is due back in town from Belize where she was “exiled” when an alert Guatemalan customs officer noticed that her passport had expired. No amount of pleading or cajoling would convince him to let her back into Guatemala and it took awhile for her to receive a temporary passport. I’m looking forward to hearing the details of her “exile.” It couldn’t have been all bad; she apparently ate a lot of lobster.

Technorati Tags: Pedro,Note,Internet,apartment,café,Lesley,person,afternoon,clock,Grey,Anatomy,Scandal,finale,series,episode,Isabel,landlord,wife,door,Spanish,English,machine,neighbor,size,American,Whirlpool,temperature,cycle,Barbie,Dream,House,Oven,Challenge,dinner,Gary,food,village,saucepan,regulator,stove,Guatemalan,Antigua,Taser,battery,event,Another,Reunion,friends,Bedalia,Clover,Steak,sauce,Swiffer,version,Dampen,bottle,solution,Diana,acquaintance,organization,Africa,Lucky,friend,Belize,customs,officer,passport,Guatemala,episodes,sheets,week,hours,selector,potatoes,sparker

It Takes a Village To Find a Saucepan

2013-12-05T10:24:00.001-06:00

San Pedro, 3 December 2013

It’s been a hectic few days getting settled in and I’m hopeful that today will be more tranquilo. My apartment is in a two unit building across the road from the lake, which is a good thing given how the lake has risen since I left here in July. The view is somewhat obscured by the trees but I can see the tops of the volcanoes in the distance. When asked where I’m staying, I reply, “Out in the far suburbs,” which seems to tickle people. It’s a much further walk into town from here than where I stayed previously. It should take no time at all to lose those pounds I gained while I was home.

My neighbor and I share a large veranda that’s separated by large potted plants. Robert Frost was right on when he wrote, “Good fences make good neighbors.” In this particular instance the fences have been replaced by plants. My neighbor is a bit reclusive and on the few occasions I’ve seen him out on the veranda, I’ve waved and said hello. He’s waved back and then quickly retreats into his apartment without saying a word.

The apartment consists of bedroom, bath and an open concept living, dining and kitchen area, as they like to say on HGTV’s Househunters. While basically furnished, there were some basics that I judged to be missing, especially in the kitchen area. For example, a simple saucepan.

It Takes a Village

On Monday I scoured the town looking for a saucepan. I set out thinking that people do cook here, so that finding a pan should not be too difficult a task. I was woefully mistaken. In the end it literally did take a village to help me find my pan. When I couldn’t find one in any of the tiendas, I began asking every gringo that I know – which turned out to be more people than I thought I knew – until one of them said he thought he knew where he could find a pan for me. He asked me if I wanted a lid with it. I told him I’d settle for the pan and could improvise a lid with aluminum foil if necessary. I told Johnny that I would be at Gary’s house for lunch and by the time I got there my pan was waiting – a lovely red and black porcelain saucepan made in Romania. I was anxious to pay Johnny but didn’t see him until the next day. He told me that the man in the store had to dig deep to find the pan and that he had only one of them. I had told Johnny to get me two if it were possible. I never thought a saucepan could bring such satisfaction.

The Amazing Q3 Store

Nor coat hangers. There were only two coat hangers in the closet when I arrived here. I remembered from my last trip going to a plastics store near the mercado where my friend Jan had gotten hangers. It was a no go; they didn’t have any. Then, purely by accident, when I wasn’t looking for them, I spotted them in the Q3 store – the equivalent of the dollar store except about two-thirds less than a dollar. Okay. The 39 cent store. It’s amazing what you can find in there for 39 cents. Like hangers. Two to a pack. So I got four packs and need maybe one or two more.

Now Old Man Rhythm Is in my Shoes, Won't You Let Me Take You on a Sea Cruise?

Also missing from the kitchen was some sort of roasting pan or baking dish. Although I don’t foresee myself doing much roasting or baking in Barbie’s Dream House oven, nonetheless, I needed a pan in which to make my meatloaf, and for that I had to go to Panajachel yesterday.

I don’t know if the passengers of the Titanic had it any worse when the ship struck the iceberg. I’ve written in the past that one should never sit on the first bench in the lancha but go as far to the rear as possible. This is one time you don’t care about the view. But when only the first bench is available, there is no choice, and such was the case yesterday. As the boat skimmed over the water, I was rewarded with the spray rising up over the bow and open side. At one point, the captain stopped the boat and pulled out the dreaded blue tarp, which requires cooperation from everyone in the front of the boat to keep it in place. It wasn’t a pleasant experience at all; it was mostly wet.

The trip home was much dryer but bumpy. The lake gets choppy in the afternoon and it’s best to finish your business in Pana as early as possible. Again, fate consigned me to the first bench and, along with my fellow passengers on the bench, and the man sitting opposite in the bow, we bore the brunt of the thumping as the boat slapped the water. We rose up out of our seats and I was sure that the boat was going to break about. At the same time I was holding on to the side of the boat, I was also trying to hold on to my belongings, but there’s a small loaf of bread rolling around in that boat this morning.

Johnny of the saucepan told me about a second-hand store in Pana where I might find a pan. However, it was a no go there, too. So I made my way up to the mercado with high hopes. It’s a much larger market than here in San Pedro. I found a stall with pots and pans and in very bad Spanish, with lots of hand gesturing, what I asked for was a loaf pan. All the woman had were some round, very thin aluminum pans that I judged wouldn’t survive a match flame no less the heat of a gas oven. She did, however, direct me to a store where I had previously bought a can opener, another basic commodity that isn’t easy to find here.

Joy in a Baking Pan

Imagine my joy when the storekeeper pulled out from under the counter a small Pyrex baking dish. I told him – in very bad Spanish, again – that I had come from San Pedro in search of this very dish. He laughed and told me that he had whatever I would need for my kitchen. Not unless he has a toaster oven and a microwave under the counter.

The microwave I can live without, but Barbie’s Dream House oven doesn’t have a broiler. That’s where a toaster oven would come in handy. Whatever was I thinking? I knew that Guatemalan ovens don’t have broilers. Most broiling – or grilling – is done over a barbecue grill or on a stovetop grilling pan. So much for those thick, juicy steaks I got at Price Smart.

From the Pyrex pan store, which in reality is a hardware store, I made my way to the Dispensa, the “modern” supermarket owned by Walmart that I’ve written so much about in the past. It’s basically a Walmart Neighborhood Market without the selection. The challenge there, of course, is that I have to carry everything on my back and in my hands and on to a boat. So planning is essential since I don’t have the convenience of putting everything in the back of my car. I have to decide what I can and cannot get in San Pedro and act accordingly. Since I was starting from scratch, I left the Dispensa pretty well weighted down.

And, after all that shopping, Gary and I went out to dinner last night at Alfredo’s where I had an excellent and very authentic lasagna. Alfredo, the owner and the cook, is from Italy and he took care of us. Very well, I’d say.

Tonight I’ve invited Gary over for Happy Hour on the veranda and for meatloaf. So this morning I have to go to the mercado for some vegetables. Another major task today will be changing the agua pura bottle without spilling the water all over the floor.

Technorati Tags: Village,Find,Saucepan,Pedro,December,apartment,unit,road,lake,trees,tops,suburbs,neighbor,veranda,plants,Robert,Frost,instance,word,concept,area,HGTV,Househunters,basics,example,task,Johnny,Gary,porcelain,Romania,satisfaction,friend,accident,dollar,Okay,Rhythm,Shoes,Take,Cruise,dish,Barbie,Dream,House,oven,Panajachel,Titanic,bench,boat,tarp,cooperation,afternoon,Again,fate,brunt,seats,belongings,bread,Spanish,woman,opener,Imagine,storekeeper,Pyrex,Guatemalan,stovetop,Price,Smart,From,Dispensa,supermarket,Walmart,Market,selection,convenience,dinner,Alfredo,owner,Hour,Another,bottle,fences,hangers,passengers,kitchen,aluminum,mercado,meatloaf,toaster,microwave

We Made It!

2013-12-03T08:05:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

(NOTE: While I began this post on Sunday, it was only yesterday, Monday, that I was finally able to get online, and that in itself was a challenge. Even in this short time there have been challenges and adjustments that I’ll get to later. Meanwhile, it’s been great to renew old acquaintances and to make new ones.)

We made it! We pulled into town around 2:30 yesterday (Saturday) afternoon following a stop at Price Smart – Costco – in Guatemala City. In layout, design and merchandise, the store was little different from any of its U.S. counterparts. I tried to anticipate what I might need – and possibly couldn’t get in San Pedro – and bought accordingly. (NOTE: In a later post you will see that I didn’t anticipate well enough.) I spent approximately $115 and in retrospect there are a number of other items I wish now that I had bought. However, I have enough laundry detergent to wash nearly everyone’s clothes in town.

On Oferta

On our last full day in Antigua, we did some additional shopping. The landlord told Gary that we could purchase some posters to decorate the apartment and that he would pay for them and, as he’s a builder, he would also frame them. I thought that was a nice gesture. However, we didn’t find any posters in Antigua and my suggestion was that perhaps on a future trip to Pana we might find a nice piece of material to use as a wall hanging.

While we didn’t find any posters, we did find on oferta U.S. made, hi-octane Burnett’s vodka for just over $5.00 in La Bodegona. It rang up at just over $4.00, though, which made it an even better buy. And a trial size bag of peanuts was attached to the bottle.

We made it an early evening because our driver was coming for us at 8:00 the next morning. As you will read below, it was fortunate for me that we had hired a private car rather than taking the public shuttle to San Pedro. After having our ritual Happy Hour on the hotel’s roof garden surrounded by beautiful views of Antigua and magnificent views of the volcanoes, and watching the sun go down, we headed out to dinner at a restaurant called Las Palmas with which Gary was familiar. Gary is an inveterate carnivore, always in search of a good steak, and this restaurant didn’t disappoint. I thought that my filet mignon was better than the meal I had had the previous night at the Argentinean restaurant, and for a lesser price.

Agony in the Back Seat

The ride to San Pedro for me was not a pleasant one. Although there’s only an hour’s difference in time between the East Coast of the U.S. and Guatemala, I think I was experiencing some jet lag – I had had to get up at 3:30 in the morning to ensure that I would make it to Miami and have plenty of time to return my rental car and to check in for the flight – which together with the rich and heavy food we were enjoying in Antigua took its toll on me. I had to ask the driver to pull over.

He stopped at a really nice looking restaurant set slightly back from the road. It was just the kind of place I had imagined we would stop for lunch except while Gary and the driver enjoyed their lunch, I was busying myself in the servicio and didn’t dare eat or drink anything, not even a sip of water. Even the smell of the food was nauseating to me and I stayed outside in the van while Gary and the driver ate. I’m happy to report that I went to bed early last night and am feeling much better today.

First Stop Luna Azul

When we pulled into San Pedro, we stopped first at Luna Azul to pick up the things I had stored there at the end of my last trip. It really felt like home to have familiar things waiting for me, and I was glad that nothing had gotten moldy. In fact, the scent of the laundry soap was still on my clothes. Since I hadn’t made a list of what I had put away, it was like finding treasure.

Upon arriving at the apartment, the landlord and his wife were there to greet me, and Salvador, who had been minding Gary’s house while he was away, came over to help me with my things. I was grateful for the assistance since the apartment is on the second floor and it would have taken me quite some time to do it all myself.

Today is Tuesday, and I’m off to Pana this morning to try to find some of the things that I should have anticipated while I was in Price Smart.

Technorati Tags: Made,Pedro,NOTE,acquaintances,afternoon,Price,Smart,Costco,Guatemala,items,Oferta,Antigua,landlord,Gary,apartment,builder,suggestion,Pana,piece,Burnett,Bodegona,size,bottle,Hour,hotel,roof,garden,dinner,restaurant,Palmas,meal,Argentinean,Agony,Back,Seat,difference,East,Coast,Miami,rental,food,road,Stop,Luna,Azul,fact,soap,wife,Salvador,assistance,adjustments,counterparts,posters,laundry,driver

Happy Thanksgivvakah

2013-11-29T16:51:00.001-06:00

32,000 feet up & Antigua, Guatemala

Happy Thanksgivvakah from 32,000 feet. As you go about your holiday preparations, I'm securely fastened in my seat and in a few short hours will be landing in Guatemala where I'll be enjoying a very untraditional Thanksgiving meal at my favorite Argentinean restaurant in Antigua, the old capital. I thought it would be a light flying day given that it is the actual day of the holiday, but there was no evidence of that in the Miami airport. I have much to be thankful for, especially today. First, there was a problem with my reservation, and I thought I might get left behind in Miami. But the folks at American Airlines went the extra mile to fix it, and I'm so thankful to them for resolving it.

Next, I'm thankful to whomever/whatever fate put me in the TSA Precheck line. I was preparing for the worst when I saw that notation on my boarding pass. Strip search? Body cavity search? But it turned out to be a good thing because it meant not having to take off my shoes, belt or jacket; or take my computer out of my backpack; or even display my three ounce bottles of liquid. Nor did I have to go into the body scan machine; only through the metal detector. I was so dreading pulling apart my backpack.

I'm also thankful for my friend Gary who's on the ground in Guatemala making his way to Antigua now to meet me there before we leave for San Pedro on Saturday. Gary has been phenomenal in helping me to make the arrangements for my apartment in San Pedro and in keeping me up-to-date on everything that's been happening in town since I left Guatemala at the end of July.

I wouldn't have been able to make the trip at all if my friend Eleanor hadn't agreed to look after my house again. I know it's in good hands, and I'm so thankful she consented to doing it. Eleanor, if you're reading this, I forgot to set the A/C and, more importantly, forgot to flip the circuit breaker for the water heater.

A Travel Tip

I drove myself to the Miami airport in a rental car that I picked up yesterday at the Palm Beach airport. Generally, one-way drop-offs are airport to airport. This isn't the first time I've done this. It's simply the easiest, cheapest way to get to the airport when you're going to be away for an extended period of time, have a lot of luggage to juggle and don't want to bother someone else provided, of course, that you get a good price. While you may have already thought this on your own, the real tip is that if you can prove that you didn't fly in or use any of the airport's facilities to get to the rental company, you won't have to pay any airport franchise fees, which add to the bottom line. But you have to ask; the fees will not be deducted automatically. In that same vein, did you know that home dishwashers sold in Florida are exempt from the state's sales tax? Again, you'll have to ask because most salespeople won't know this. Sure would like to know what appliance dealer/legislator was instrumental in getting that passed.

Challenges

Getting ready for this trip wasn’t without its challenges. There were two visits from the refrigerator repairman to fix something that I consider a design flaw in a new refrigerator that I’m going to have to live with; a root canal; a cortisone shot in my foot and then an MRI for something that doesn’t exist, according to the MRI, but is very real to me. I had to replace the garbage disposal, which had rusted through and with literally one step out the door a leaking toilet tank.

Another huge challenge was getting the cable company to do a seasonal disconnect. Comcast had messed up on my last trip to Guatemala and I had to involve the folks in Philadelphia before I could get it resolved on the local level. This time I called rather than trust the website, and after being on hold for almost 20 minutes before I reached an agent, who then put me on hold again for another 20 minutes while she supposed entered my information into the system, I asked for written confirmation that it had been done. She said they don’t give written confirmations but if I went to a local office, I could get one there. After my previous experience, I definitely wanted things in writing so without delay I took myself over to the Lake Worth office where I met Bobbi, whom I also thankful for. The agent on the phone was apparently “incorrect” – I could use a stronger word, so we’ll leave it at “misinformed” - because Bobbi said the office doesn’t issue written confirmations either. After my experience with Comcast, I can certainly understand why they don’t want to put anything in writing. However, Bobbi did go into the system to confirm the status of my order, which it turned out wasn’t in the system at all. I’m sure that every day hundreds of thousands of customers put their service on seasonal disconnect. I just don’t understand how Comcast has managed to mess up my order not once but twice.

In the end, Bobbi put a note to herself in her calendar to manually disconnect my service. A few days after seeing Bobbi, I went back to see her again with a question. You can’t just call Comcast because no one seems to have a direct number there and Bobbi was the only one that could help me. It turned out to be a good thing that I had a question because when I went back, and Bobbi checked her calendar, the reminder wasn’t there. They had replaced her computer the day before and somehow had managed to wipe out her calendar. So she again entered the reminder and my service was disconnected as we agreed. Is it any wonder that people hate their cable providers?

Landing

The flight was bumpy for much of the way and I was glad when the plane finally landed. After a stop at the ATM and going through customs and immigration without a hitch, I was out on the street in search of a shuttle to Antigua. I was fortunate in finding one right away, but had to wait for three more passengers who came in short order. One of the passenger was a woman who was being dropped off somewhere in Guatemala City. This was unusual because these shuttles are direct from the airport to Antigua and even the driver was puzzled as to who told the woman she could be dropped off somewhere else.

Thanks to this woman, I lost an hour of my life that I’ll never get back and saw sections of Guatemala City that I hope to never see again. The driver was unfamiliar with where the woman was trying to go, and the woman was trying to direct the driver. But she didn’t know where she was going either, so we went round and round in ever widening circles. I know just enough Spanish to be dangerous and the way this woman demeaned the driver, who was doing his best to remain courteous and polite, he would have been within his rights to put her out on the street.

At the Hotel

Gary arrived in Antigua before me but was not at the hotel when I got here. He had gone out to do a few errands and have some lunch. When he returned, and we had our reunion, he discovered that he had lost the key to his room. He was much calmer than I would have been had the situation been reversed. After he emptied all of his pockets, and then checked again, I asked him where he had been so that we could retrace his steps. He had lunch at Pollo Campero, so that’s where we started. I was outwardly hopeful that we would find the key there but inwardly not very optimistic.

Something else to be thankful for; a happy ending. They had the key there waiting for him. After he had dropped it and left the restaurant, one of the staff people found it and started to chase after him. But apparently Gary was too far up the street for him to hear the person shouting to him.

In the evening, we enjoyed a very unconventional Thanksgiving dinner at Ni Fu Ni Fa, the Argentinean restaurant: tenderloin steak, papas fritas and a bottle of malbec. It was a splurge for us, and a splurge for Guatemala, but it was, after all, a special occasion. I’ve been accused of writing too much about food and eating in my blog. But it’s all part of the experience.

Friday, Nov. 29, 2013

Believe it or not, Black Friday is alive and well in Guatemala with Walmart leading the pack at 6 a.m. this morning. I wonder if Guatemalans actually understand the significance – or the folly – of Black Friday. Well, I have an apartment to furnish in San Pedro – I’m staying in a different place and neighborhood than I have in the past – so I needed to do some shopping, and Gary is my link to what I might need. Topping the list was bath towels. Two are provided and changed weekly, which wasn’t going to work for this gringo.

We made our way to La Bodegona. I’ve written about La Bodegona in the past. It’s a Walmart in miniature in downtown Antigua. They carry food, household goods, clothing and even some appliances like stoves and refrigerators. I found the perfect towels for around $3.00 each. I also picked up some ice cube trays and a gun-style lighter to light the gas stove. No electronic starter here and Guatemalan matches leave a lot to be desired. One swipe of a wooden match on the side of the box and the lit match head flies off the stick.

Tomorrow we’re going into Guatemala City to Price Smart – the Costco equivalent – to do more serious shopping before leaving for San Pedro. Price Mart is the only place I know of here that has real Triscuit crackers.

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Last Night in D.C.

2013-09-08T20:07:00.001-06:00

Washington, D.C.

It’s my last night in Washington, and it’s with some misgivings that I’ll be leaving in the morning. There’s still so much more to see and do. On the other hand, I’m looking forward to going home because yesterday the scratchy throat came on me while I was on my way to Mount Vernon and by the time I left there, a low grade headache was in progress as well. Today, the scratchy throat has been replaced by one that is sore and while the headache is still mild, the nose is running like a sieve.

Objects Are Smaller Than They Appear

Like the real life Alamo (not Walt Disney’s conception of it) and like Dallas’ Southfork Ranch, George Washington’s Mount Vernon home is considerably smaller than it appears in pictures. During the 20-minute tour of the mansion, the first room you’re taken into is the formal dining room, which is currently under renovation so there is no furniture by which to accurately judge the scale of the room. The guide told us that often after dinner the General and his guests would dance in this room. We all looked at each other as if to ask, “Where?”

The Washingtons Shared a Bedroom, But Not The Closet

The house, which was added on to in sections, has six bedrooms, including the general’s and Lady Washington’s suite. Yes, that’s what they called her: Lady Washington. I thought it was interesting, given the time, that the Washingtons actually shared a bedroom rather than each having their own. Apparently, however, Lady Washington didn’t share the closet space so that the general’s dressing room was in his downstairs study. Some things never change, do they?

No One Listened to Ben Franklin

The guide told us that in the year after Washington’s second term, he entertained more than 300 overnight guests at Mount

Vernon. In those days it was considered impolite to ask a guest how long they were staying. They might stay a day, a week, a month, or longer. Although Washington held Benjamin Franklin in high esteem, he apparently didn’t pay attention to what Franklin had to say about fish and guests.

Guests at Mount Vernon could expect to be fed and have their laundry done while they were there, which created a lot of extra work for the staff who were, of course, slaves.There was no indoor plumbing in those days, of course, and the “necessary” seemed rather far removed from the house to me for a late night trip. Oh, but wait! Of course, that’s what the chamber pots were for. Because there was no running water, slaves had to bring water i

nto the house and bathing didn’t happen very often. Lady Washington was apparently famous for her ham, and there was a fresh ham on the table 365 days a year.

In addition to the house tour, I took a tour in which a costumed character led us through his day at Mount Vernon. His character, Christopher Shields, had been born to a free man and one of Washington’s female slaves, which according to Virginia law at the time, made Christopher a slave because his mother was a slave. Eventually, Christopher became Washington’s body servant. Apparently, Washington was a benevolent master who struggled with slavery but wasn’t about to go against Virginia society of the time. Christopher attended to Washington’s every need, which made me wonder what Lady Washington did for her husband … other than that. It was both an enlightening and fascinating tour. Getting to Mount Vernon was relatively easy by Metro and bus.

A Visit to the National Archives and Library of Congress

Cold or no cold, I was not about to waste a day in Washington and so this morning went to the National Archives to see the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. I was reminded of the time when I went to see the Dead Sea Scrolls in New York. I don’t know what I was expecting then, but the “scrolls” looked like burnt pieces of paper and why weren’t they in English?

Although both the Declaration and the Constitution are kept under glass in a light and temperature controlled environment, both are faded to the point that it’s impossible to read much of either one of them. Again, I don’t know what I was expecting. There was also an interesting exhibit of ‘70’s photographs.

From the Archives, I went to the Library of Congress. A woman whom I had met waiting at the bus stop at Mount Vernon said that she had been there the day before and that it was an interesting tour. I suppose it was for her because the Library was closed today. At that point, it was time for lunch, and after lunch I didn’t feel like doing much other than coming back to the hotel where I’ve been sniffling ever since.

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It’s Me. I Know It Is

2013-09-06T21:15:00.001-06:00

Washington, D.C.

I really hadn’t expected to be in Washington, but a few weeks ago I was looking at my credit card statement online – the credit card that earns me points – and noticed that I was about to lose 2,700 points in August if I didn’t use them. I wasn’t aware that these points ever expired, but what the bank giveth, the bank can taketh away, and since these 2,700 points represented $2,700 in purchases, I wasn’t about to lose them.

The friendly customer service person to whom I spoke advised me that I could apply the points to my balance. But when she told me that equated to $13 and some change, I said never mind. In my opinion, the only things the points are really good for is travel and travel related services. So I decided that a long weekend away was in order.

A Tale of Three Cities

I looked at Palm Springs, New York and Washington, D.C. The trouble with Palm Springs is that you literally can’t get there from South Florida. The connections are horrendous not only to the Palm Springs airport but to any of the other airports in southern California as well. I would have to be returning almost as soon as I got there.

Anyone who has looked at New York as a vacation getaway knows very well the cost of a hotel room in Manhattan. It’s a matter of just wanting to rent a room for the night; not buy the property. Not even Hotwire.com could bring a midtown Manhattan hotel down out of the stratosphere, and if you’re going to New York, to go to theatre and so forth, midtown is where you want to be, and I draw the line at “European tourist” hotels, which are available in New York, where the bathroom is down the hall. I wouldn’t settle for that in Guatemala. Why would I settle for it in New York? I’m not European.

So that left Washington. Politicians aside, Washington is a great city. It’s only a two-and-a-half hour flight from West Palm Beach, which is just about the right amount of time to be in the air, and there’s lots to see and do. I’ve been to Washington many times and have always enjoyed it, so this was a good option. Of course, the ticket cost way more than 2,700 points.

Hotel Deal

Using Booking.com, I was able to find a good deal on a hotel. In fact, it was a hotel that I had stayed in previously, so I kind of knew what I was getting into. The Windsor Inn. But memories fade and get better with age. Don’t misunderstand me.There’s nothing horrendously wrong with the hotel. It’s in a great location on a beautiful tree lined street near Dupont Circle and is spotlessly clean. Breakfast is included. Not a great breakfast, but I had no high expectation, so wasn’t disappointed. The building is apparently a converted residence, so the rooms are small. What you’d call cozy, I guess, but certainly adequate. There is no elevator, which isn’t really a problem. My room in Mexico was on a higher floor with no elevator, and I thought it was just good exercise climbing the stairs. My room here is located in the back of the hotel, so is shielded from any street noises. The room could use maybe another lamp and the water pressure in the shower is a little low, which brings me to …

It’s Me. I know It Is

In the past, I’ve written that there’s just something about me and hotels. I can’t recall one instance in which everything in the room worked properly in any hotel in which I’ve stayed. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ll recall that my most recent instance was in Guatemala City where the curtains didn’t close properly and so my room was changed. I guess as retribution the hotel charged the room to my credit card after I had paid in cash. Fortunately, I had kept my receipt and the bank was extremely fast in getting the charge reversed.

That was the first time I had ever had a curtain issue. It’s usually something plumbing related. This time it’s the air conditioning. While not Florida hot, it’s still pretty warm in Washington in early September, and you want the A/C to work properly. The A/C here is one of those A/C-heater units that’s embedded into the wall. The only way I can get it to work is to first turn it to fan only, let it run for a few minutes and then switch it to cool. If I just turn it “on” to cool, even with the thermostat set to snow, it does nothing. After it cycles off, I have to start the whole process over again. Not real convenient, and like every other problem I’ve experienced in a hotel room, I know it didn’t just happen on my watch and don’t understand why the cleaning person or the previous occupant didn’t report it. I certainly did my duty and reported it. Now, we’ll see how fast it gets fixed.

Later … A Full and Rich Day

It’s much later, and I can’t determine whether or not the A/C was actually fixed. It seemed to be working when I got back late this afternoon, but two gin and tonics and dinner later, I really can’t say since the evening is actually refreshingly cool and the room quite comfortable … for now.

Pawel Wos

I began early this morning at the Holocaust Museum. It’s been quite some time since I saw the permanent exhibit, so it was like seeing it again for the first time. I drew the “Identification Card” of a Pawel Wos, who was born in Kozience, Poland, in June 1895. A Roman Catholic, Mr. Wos fled to Germany in 1914 to avoid conscription into the Russian army. Since Germany and Russia were at war, he was arrested by the Germans as an enemy alien and sent to work on a farm in northern Germany. There, he met his wife, and they were married in 1918. The couple moved to Warsaw where they raised four children. In 1930, Mr. Wos opened a textile business.

After the Germans invaded Poland in 1939, Mr. Wos was permitted to reopen his business, which had prospered despite the Depression. Most of his suppliers were located in a Jewish section of the city, the very area that the Germans had enclosed as a ghetto in November 1940. With permission to enter, Mr. Wos managed to hire two mechanics from the ghetto, and with the help of the underground he hid three Jewish families. Although he was arrested in Warsaw during the August 1944 uprising and deported as a political prisoner to a camp in Germany, Mr. Wos survived and returned to Warsaw after the war.

Some Were Neighbors

A temporary exhibit, Some Were Neighbors: Collaboration and Complicity in the Holocaust was especially compelling and thought-provoking. The exhibit was filled with oral histories of people whose neighbors, friends and co-workers had betrayed them to the Nazis. The exhibit also asked the question if those who did nothing – Who were not Nazis. Who did not betray anyone to the Nazis but simply kept to themselves – were complicit as well.

It was well after lunchtime when I left the museum, and after some lunch, I made my way to the Capitol Building. In all my previous trips to Washington, I had never been there, having seen it only from a distance. The thought crossed my mind that I had been to the Romanian parliament building but never to my own Congress, and it was time I took care of that.

Slightly Less Stressful Than the Airport

Going into the Capitol is only slightly less stressful than going through security at the airport. No food. No beverages. Of course, all bags and all metals must go through the x-ray machine. Men must remove their belts and everyone must pass through the metal detector. Unlike the airport, you are allowed to keep on your shoes.

Having to remove my belt, it was necessary to hold up my pants with my hand as I passed through the metal director. I failed the first pass because I neglected to remove my sunglasses which were hanging around my neck. Then, my backpack failed because I had forgotten about the muffin I had in it. The security people held on to my backpack while I ran outside, holding up my pants with one hand, to dispose of the muffin in the trash. Then, when I came back in, I had somehow managed to set off the metal detector again. But by this time I guess they had had enough of me and just let me in.

I arrived in time for the last tour of the day. It began with a 13 minute video before Molly, our guide, took us on the tour. We began in the “crypt” where George Washington was supposed to have been buried, but he died years before the crypt was completed. So, there’s an empty crypt in the Capitol building and no one is buried in the Capitol.

We were taken next into the Capitol Rotunda before passing by Speaker of the House John Bohener’s office into a room that was originally used by the House of Representatives and now contains statues that were donated by the states. Each state is allowed to send two statues. Since the Congress is still on its August recess until Monday, we weren’t able to see the House and Senate chambers, but they did make sure that we saw the gift shop.

Tomorrow I’m considering going to Mt. Vernon. It’s only a subway and bus ride away in Virginia, and I have a Metro SmartCard; I can go anywhere.

Room Update: I’ve changed rooms and got a slightly larger one in the swap.

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On Being Home

2013-08-10T09:46:00.001-06:00

Music: The French Chef

Boynton Beach

During my last week in San Pedro, my friend Gary prepared a farewell luncheon for me that also included friends Esther and Onne. At one time, Gary had been the personal chef to John Wayne – yes, that John Wayne – and had also owned a very successful restaurant in San Pedro, so I was looking forward to this luncheon, not only for the food but for the company as well because all of these people have come to mean a lot to me.

Gary prepared a chicken schnitzel while Esther made mashed potatoes. Esther’s “mash” became something of a joke between us because they’re so delicious. She grates cheese over the potatoes and then puts them in the oven for the cheese to melt. I’ve watched her make them but know that when I try to make them at home, they won’t be the same. My contribution? Wine, of course.

Quite unknown to each other, for dessert, both Gary and Esther made apple pie. Since Gary is both American and Canadian and Esther is Dutch, it became the battle of the North American versus the Dutch apple pies. There was no clear winner because both were delicious. Gary lives about 15 minutes outside of town, so I was glad we were walking back after such a wonderful meal. Good food and good company. I so appreciate what all these people did for me.

I began trying to make the above video while I was still in Guatemala. I had chosen the pictures and had an idea to try to find the theme from Julia Child’s The French Chef program. When I showed Esther my “work in progress,” and talked about Julia Child, Esther asked who was Julia Child. I thought everyone knew Julia Child, but to acquaint Esther with Julia I was able to find some of her programs on YouTube. Esther and I spent most of an afternoon watching them. I had forgotten how amusing Julia Child was without her meaning to be. Esther did take some exception to Julia’s croissant recipe, however.

Some Readjustments Easier Than Others

Although I’ve been home now for nearly two weeks, It hasn’t been an easy process getting reacclimated to life in the First World, and I keep finding myself slipping into “what was I doing at this time two weeks ago.” Some readjustments have been easier than others, however. For example,I had no problem drinking the water directly from the tap and wasn’t even tempted to throw the paper in a basket as opposed to the bowl. That's probably one of the best, if not the best, things we have going for us in the First World: adequate plumbing and unlimited hot water. One-stop grocery shopping - with some exceptions - the variety in store and the convenience of throwing everything into the car instead of a backpack and then having to schlepp it on a boat were all easy readjustments as well. Price increases on certain items not so much.

An incident in my rental car on the toll road between the Miami airport and the Interstate was my first obstacle to re-entry into the First World. There was construction at the toll plaza and I somehow managed to get into the no cash lane, With no transponder in the car, I sailed through without paying the toll. I was just waiting for the sound of sirens behind me, but all I saw was a sign ahead that read “Toll Evasion $100 fine.” This would have been bad enough in my own car, but in a rental? Of course, I was concerned until I returned the car the next morning and learned that the rental company has a contract with the state, and the state will bill the rental company. In turn, the rental company will charge the toll to my credit card, plus a $2.95 administrative fee. That’s way better than a fine.

Cable Incompetence

When I finally arrived home and pulled into the driveway, I noticed that half of one of the downspouts was laying on the ground outside. Inside, my cable and Internet weren’t working, but my telephone was, which should have been turned off with the cable and Internet. I had scheduled everything to be turned back on the day I got home. It took many phone calls over a day-and-a-half to get everything restored only to discover that someone at the cable company took it upon themself to upgrade my cable service, which would have added an additional $20 a month to the bill. There were more phone calls and then threats to cancel my service completely before it was reversed.

I don’t want to forget either that after paying my bill in cash at the hotel in Guatemala City, the hotel turned around and also charged my credit card. I’ve stayed at this hotel many times in the past without incident, so will ascribe it to human error instead of it being done intentionally. Fortunately, I retained my receipt. So, a call to the bank to dispute the charge and another call to Best Western for them to investigate the matter from their end. I’m happy to report that yesterday, just as I got a letter from the bank that an investigation had been initiated, I received a phone call that the matter has been resolved and my card has been credited. Important lesson here is to be sure that YOU rip up the blank receipt you signed when you checked in instead of taking the desk clerk’s word for it that it will be done.

Sorting through four months of mail was yet another challenge. Most of it was junk.

Mixed Feelings

I have mixed feelings about being back home. I miss my friends in Guatemala for sure. On the other hand, on a number of levels and for a variety of reasons, it was time to come home. However, I’m looking at going back in December. I just can’t seem to stay away.

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Countdown to Home

2013-07-29T18:32:00.001-06:00

Guatemala City

The countdown to home began yesterday afternoon when I left San Pedro for Guatemala City and finally arrived at my hotel after an exhausting six hour trip spanning two very crowded and uncomfortable shuttle buses. Just outside of the city, we encountered a car that had broken down in the left hand lane, which caused traffic to be backed up for miles. After we cleared the area, and closer to the city, just when I thought it would be clear sailing into town, we hit normal Sunday evening traffic that was stop and go pretty much all the way to my hotel. I was fortunate in that I was the first person who was dropped off. That’s never happened to me before.

Plans Go Awry

I had hoped to arrive when it was still light, but that didn’t happen. My plan was to get settled into the hotel as quickly as possible and then get something to eat. That didn’t quite happen the way I had visualized it either. The bellman had barely gotten me settled into a room when I discovered that the curtains didn’t close all the way. It wasn’t so much a privacy issue as it was a light issue since the sun comes up pretty early in Guatemala and if I had a prayer of sleeping in, I needed the curtains to close all the way.

It’s usually issues with electricity or plumbing that I encounter; lamps or lights that don’t work or hot and cold water taps that are reversed. In this very hotel in the past I had a toilet that leaked on the floor every time it was flushed. Fortunately, it was clean water. I dutifully reported it, but no one came to fix it; if they didn’t care about it, well, neither did I. What makes me angry about these sort of things is that they didn’t happen on my watch; I walked into them and it seems only courteous to me that the previous occupant should report it. At the very least, the cleaning staff should be aware of these issues and report them to maintenance. When I approached the front desk with the curtain issue, my room was changed promptly.

Hot, Sweaty, Hungry

I was hot and sweaty from the trip, and hungry, too. I hadn’t had anything since breakfast at 6 a.m. except for a bread, American cheese and bacon sandwich I brought from San Pedro. I’ll have to admit that on the first leg of the trip, from San Pedro to the Pan American Highway, I couldn’t have eaten anything anyway. I was carsick and was trying my best to keep down what I had eaten. Other than our trip to Mexico, I haven’t been carsick for years, but the combination of heat, gasoline fumes coming in through the open window, the miserable state of the road and the generally uncomfortable and crowded conditions on the shuttle all got to me. By the time we got on the Pan American, I thought I might feel better if I ate something.

I had planned to have dinner at a steakhouse I knew near the hotel but before I could go to dinner I had to get more agua pura. Although a First World hotel, the Stofella supplies only two small bottles of drinking water a day and then charges for any additional. I refuse to give the hotel the satisfaction of charging inflated prices for this essential commodity. It reminds me of hotels in the States where the cheaper hotels provide in room coffee makers and the higher you go in the “food chain” the less likely you are to see them. It took awhile to find a store that was open on a Sunday evening.

Parilla Facundo

In my search for water, I came across Parilla Argentina Facundo, a steakhouse nearby to the hotel, noted its location and menu, which was conveniently posted outside, and decided I would return there after finding my water. I was glad I did go back there because this morning I discovered that the steakhouse I had originally planned to go to is now a juice bar. Pity. They had good steaks.

Facundo was good as well. I had a filet mignon that was done just as I like it – rojo mediano – which was a “first” for me in Guatemala. First I was served a cup of broth, followed by a skewer of roasted tomatoes, onions, peppers and salchicha. In English, salchicha is sausage. Sometimes, though, it’s better not to ask and to just eat what’s put in front of you. I do, however, draw the line at hot dogs in Guatemala. The filet came with a small ensalada and papas fritas. With the meal I had a glass of red wine. The bill came to a staggering $23, including tip. Okay. I think I’ve been in San Pedro for too long. After four months, I felt like a country bumpkin coming into the city for the first time.

Transitioning

This morning I began transitioning to the First World by visiting the very upscale Oakland Mall and later to the slightly less upscale Gran Centro Los Próceres Mall where I saw What Happened Yesterday, Part III, in English (with Spanish subtitles), for under $3. This is the first movie I’ve seen in a real theater since I came to Guatemala since there are no movie theaters in San Pedro.

Tonight I’ll be looking for Tres Fratelli, an Italian restaurant that I hope is still in business. They have an outstanding shrimp fra diablo.

It’s hard to believe that in approximately 24 hours I’ll be in Florida and in my own house, sleeping in my own bed. Wow! It’s been an amazing four months – the friendships, the drama, and all the priceless experiences. I hope to be back very soon in Guatemala.

This photo of Oakland Mall is courtesy of TripAdvisor

Technorati Tags: travel, Guatemala, Guatemala City, San Pedro, Oakland Mall. Los Próceres, Facundo, Tres Fratelli

A Sunday Outing to Santiago

2013-07-25T07:50:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

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This past Sunday my friend Jan organized a trip to Santiago that included myself and friends Gary, Kevin and Juan. The purpose of the trip was to surprise Jan’s sister Cynthia who had gone to Santiago late last week to deal with her property there. The two sisters normally live here in San Pedro, and Cynthia has had a succession of housesitters to mind her Santiago house, none of whom have worked out very well.

If You’re Into Solitude, This Is the Place for You.

One issue may be the remoteness of the property. If you’re into solitude, then this is the place for you. Cynthia will be happy to rent it, sell it or make some kind of housesitting arrangement. The house sits high atop a hill overlooking the lake and Santiago. It’s accessible only by boat and there are more than 400 steps from the dock to the top. I didn’t count them; Gary did. The stairs meander up the hill and when we reached the first of two swimming pools on the property, I thought we had arrived. It wasn’t unlike ascending the San Pedro volcano the last time I was here. Actually, the view was pretty much the same as it was from the volcano, but without all the difficulties of climbing the volcano.

Plan Was To Create a Hotel

Cynthia bought the property during a boom time in Guatemala, when tourism was on the rise and the government was working to improve the roads. Her plan was to create a hotel. The original house was only one story. It would not have supported a second floor, so she very cleverly had a second building constructed that is set back into the hill behind the house, so that it looks like one structure. The first floor is open concept with a kitchen, dining area and a raised livingroom off of which there is a full bathroom. A few steps up from the livingroom area lead to the “second” story, which is illuminated by a skylight. Upstairs there are two large bedrooms and a “Jack and Jill" bathroom.” There’s also a small casita, or caretaker’s cottage, on the property and another swimming pool closer to the house. Somebody has already berated me for not taking interior pictures, but I guess I was having such a nice time it just never occurred to me.

The previous day, Saturday, Jan, Gary and I had gone over to Pana where we bought all kinds of food to bring with us. We had bread and assorted cheeses and meats. Gary, who had owned a restaurant and was its chef, made a cheesecake while Kevin, who owns a restaurant now, made a curried carrot salad and a key lime pie. He also artfully arranged the meat platter. There was lots of red wine to wash it all down.

A Gracious Hostess

Cynthia was certainly surprised when we showed up, and was a very gracious hostess in spite of our foisting ourselves on her so unexpectedly. Later, however, she did remark to me that a little advance warning would be nice for the next time. For me, I don’t know when the next time will be since I’ll be leaving on Sunday. But I sure do look forward to the next time whenever it will be.

Technorati Tags: travel, Guatemala, Santiago

Thoughts on Coming Home

2013-07-19T19:34:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

Earlier this week a friend of mine went back to the States. I wasn’t especially close with Bedalia, but would often run into her on the street where we would chat and almost always at the Sunday barbecue where a bunch of us, including Bedalia, would sit together as a group and enjoy each other’s company as we ate and drank.

The last time I saw Bedalia was this past Sunday at the barbecue. We said our good-byes and exchanged email addresses with the promise to keep in touch. On Monday I was feeling kind of low and it occurred to me that it had something to do with Bedalia’s leaving. I realized then that in less than two weeks I would be in Bedalia’s place and would have to say good bye to both my old and new friends. Why do things start to get fun and interesting near the end of a trip rather than at the beginning?

Bedalia and I had discussed our mixed feelings about leaving San Pedro, but I think we concluded on a number of different levels that It really was time for us both to go home. Although we started making plans for when we would return to San Pedro, it doesn’t really mitigate my ambivalence at leaving. It will be nice, however, to be back in my own home, among my own things, and to see the people that I haven’t seen in four months.

The plan now is to leave San Pedro on Sunday, the 28th, and “transition back” to the First World by spending two nights in Guatemala City at a First World-style hotel near the very First World and very upscale Oakland Mall. I’m not especially happy at the thought of packing or, for that matter, riding the shuttle to the Capital. The memories of the shuttles to and from Mexico are still too fresh in my mind.

The Art of the Deal

I haven’t written anything in over two weeks because I got settled into a small town routine that isn’t especially interesting. Save a trip or two to Panajachel, I’ve stayed put in San Pedro. With my remaining time here so short, I realized that I had better start in on my souvenir shopping. I’ve written previously about how the “art of the deal” is done here with much haggling back and forth, which was a major reason that I kept putting it off. I knew I wanted some of the textiles that are hand- made and hand-dyed in San Juan and was glad when my friend Esther came with me to shop on Tuesday.

Esther is a long-time resident of San Juan and there are very few people that she doesn’t know in town. There was no stressful haggling shopping with her. In every store we visited, as soon as they saw Esther, the price dropped by a third, which is pretty much where you want to be when doing “the dance.” Thanks to the Esther Discuenta, I saved $26 without breaking a sweat.

On My Own Not So Easy

On Wednesday, I went back to San Juan on my own. It wasn’t quite so easy as it was with Esther. A third did not magically drop off the price tag when I walked in the store. I had to work for it. My strategy is to ask right away ¿Cual es su mejor precio? (What is your best price?). The usual first response is the full price. My response to that is demasiado (too much), and let the games begin.

That is just what happened in one of the stores I was in. I selected three scarves and asked the woman what her best price was for the three. Of course, she said the full price. I pulled out my best demasiado, but she lowered the price by only 10 percent. I was angling for that third off I got with Esther, but my offer was refused.

Knowing When To Walk Is Key

When that happens, you have to know when to walk, and walk I did. I put down the scarves, said gracias and left the store. I then went on to some other shops and as I passed this one again on my way out of town, I heard someone hissing at me. It was the woman who had refused my offer. It seems that in the time I was gone she had a change of mind and gave the scarves to me for the price I offered to her.

There’s an unwritten rule that when you use the exit strategy, if the seller later agrees to your price, you cannot bargain any further and you’re obligated to purchase the merchandise. Apparently the woman must have made some sort of profit from the sale, and I came away happy having achieved my goal of a third off. Tomorrow I get to try it all over again when several of us are going to Panajachel.

Preparing Tomorrow for an Outing on Sunday

We’re going to Pana not only for some souvenir shopping but also to stock up on food and drink for an outing to Santiago on Sunday. We’re going to surprise Cynthia who is living here in San Pedro but owns a house in Santiago that’s apparently on an island accessible only by private boat. The house is for sale, if anyone is interested. A succession of housesitters hasn’t worked out too well, so Cynthia is staying in the house herself for awhile. It’s vital to have a housesitter here. Otherwise, when you come back to your house, there won’t be much left in it. Copper wire is a lot in demand here.

Shoes to Order

Last week, I got measured for a pair of handmade leather shoes, which are supposed to be ready today. It’s really not a good idea to drink wine before selecting a pair of custom shoes because I’m a little uncertain of what I ordered. They’re a slip-on and I’m sure very tasteful. Pablo, the shoemaker, conducts his business from a seat at the front of the health food store. Forget fancy measuring devices. Pablo had me place my feet on a sheet of that day’s newspaper and traced around them. I’m a little skeptical of the fit, but everyone assures me that he does good work. And how many places do you know of where you can get a pair of shoes made for $39.00?

Shoe Update

The shoes were ready as promised but the fit is tight. A little like how I imagine a Chinese woman’s feet felt when they were bound. However, Pablo assures me that because the shoes are real leather and are hand made, they will stretch and conform to my feet. I can tell you that after the short walk home in them, I couldn’t wait to pull them off.

Technorati Tags: travel, Guatemala, San Pedro, San Juan, haggle, haggling

How to fold a shirt in 2 seconds

2013-07-02T10:39:00.001-06:00

Baby, Baby, Sex Machine

2013-06-30T09:43:00.001-06:00

San Pedro

The South Florida Fair has met its match this week in San Pedro with the arrival of La Feria. While it got underway on Thursday, some vendors began setting up their booths more than a week ago, blocking traffic, and making things generally more chaotic than they already are. La Feria isn’t confined to one specific location in town but works its way down from the mercado along the hill that leads to the Santiago dock and takes a turn out on to the finca road where the midway with the amusements is located. I had to make my way out there on Thursday evening to get to my friend Gary’s house. Vendors of all sorts lined both sides of the street, making the passageway very narrow. Then there was the hassle of getting around some of the amusements, which spilled over into the street and being careful not to trip over – or get electrocuted by - the power cables lying in the road.

A Fascination With Fireworks

La Feria seems to grip the imagination of every Pedrano as each day the amount and frequency of the fireworks – actually massive firecrackers that sound like a sonic boom – increases. For some reason, Guatemalans are fascinated by fireworks and need no excuse to set them off at any time of the year both day and night. On Friday morning I was awakened at 4 o’clock by fireworks, which culminated in about 20 minutes of loud music. They like their music loud, too.

La Feria was in San Juan last week where there was a parade of a hundred floats. I understand that La Feria is so bad that it’s good. Whichever, it’s going to be a colorful and loud weekend.

A Shopping Day

I began writing this on Thursday in a small café in Panajachel over a platter of la especialidad curry with vegetables. It was a shopping day. I hadn’t bought any groceries since before going to Mexico and the cupboards were pretty bare. In addition, it was just plain time to get out of San Pedro for a few hours. While I was in the Dispensa – the “modern supermarket” that’s owned by Walmart – I was somewhat annoyed to see a display of comforters, including the one for which I had endured a night at the Bates Motel in Xela and a three-hour chicken bus ride so that I could go to the Walmart there, at the same price I had paid. A 30 minute lancha ride would have been more preferable than the time I spent on the bus squeezed into seats meant for small schoolchildren.

A Guest and Adding to the Things I’ve Learned in Guatemala

For just over a week now, a friend has been staying here in one of the guest rooms while she recuperates from a procedure she had done in the Capital last week. I won’t even go into the conditions she described at the hospital and then the really horrible ride back to San Pedro that she had to endure. Fortunately, she had a friend in the Capital who was able to drive her in his car. I don’t think she would have survived if she had had to come on the bus. As it was, it took two men to help her into the house. I’m happy to report that she’s doing much better now, especially since the doctor told her on Wednesday that a biopsy of the polyps he had removed turned out to be benign.

“Dutchies” Use Cheese on Practically Everything

It’s been wonderful having Esther’s company over the past week and thanks to her I can add to my list of 10 Things I Learned in Guatemala, including how to peel the skin off of a tomato; how to identify and properly clean the algae out of the agua pura dispenser; how to light a proper fire in the fireplace; and that you can mix practically anything into mashed potatoes, even sauerkraut. She made a “mash,” as she calls them, on Thursday with plenty of garlic and then covered the top with cheese, which she then browned for a few minutes under the broiler. Not easy in a toaster oven. The melted cheese formed a crust over the potatoes that was out of this world. Esther is from Holland and says that the “Dutchies” use cheese in practically everything. With such good cheese in Holland, why not?

On Thursday night, she created a dish with some thin, smoked pork chops that I had gotten in Pana accompanied by a vegetable stir-fry and the leftover “mash.” I could get very spoiled and very used to this.

Baby, Baby, Sex Machine

I know that you’ve read this far if only to find out the meaning of the title “Baby, Baby, Sex Machine.” Now you’ll receive your reward and have your curiosity satisfied.

It was also time earlier this week to get my hair cut again. While my last haircut wasn’t awful, the “look” that Brenda tried to give me didn’t quite suit me. She tried to style it in the Guatemalan fashion, which is currently – at least – combed forward and then with massive amounts of gel is spiked in the middle from front to back. This may work well on young Guatemalan men with straight, dark hair but not so much for this norteamericano with wavy, white hair.

On numerous occasions I had walked by a barber shop a short distance off of the main street in town and thought what the heck. It couldn’t turn out any worse than Brenda’s haircut, and if it did, it would grow back anyway.

Now it seems that nobody in town has a name. It’s usually amigo or amiga. The extranjeros are usually identified by their first name and some characteristic about them, such as by where they’re from, like Canadian Bob. I’ve been spared that because there doesn’t seem to be another Wayne in town. However, the natives have trouble wrapping their tongues around that and it usually comes out as “Wen,” which I say is close enough. The barber is actually Italian, so he’s known as the Italian barber. As he cuts, he has his CD player turned way up in the Latino fashion of listening to music loudly and while I was in the chair he had a James Brown CD playing. Now, “they” say that the best way to learn a language is to immerse yourself in it. However, I’m not so sure that James Brown is the best profesor of English. I was able to communicate with the barber fairly well in my halting Spanish. At least I was able to hold my own in the conversation. When I asked him if he spoke any English, he said, “Cierto, ‘Baby, baby, sex machine,” as he pointed to the CD player and began to laugh. I told him that I thought there are probably a lot better teachers of English than James Brown.

For the equivalent of $1.30, he gave me a fantastic haircut and trimmed my eyebrows and the hair from other places on my head from where hair didn’t used to grow. When I proceeded to give him an additional Q5 as a tip – that’s 50 percent – he tried to give it back to me, saying the price was only Q10. I said, “No, es para usted.” I now have a friend for life. Where in the U.S. can you get a haircut and service all for under $2.00, including tip? Should you want to go to the Italian barber, do keep in mind, however, that he doesn’t cut very long hair. I don’t know the reason for this, but perhaps it has to do with turnover in his chair. He works alone and the shop is pretty busy.

Technorati Tags:travel, guatemala, san pedro, panajachel, la feria, fireworks