Central America 2008:

Tamales and Farewells

2008-07-25T13:08:00.000-07:00

Friday
7.25.2008

Wow! The last day in Central America. All stories must end. I actually got myself up at 5:45am. It was hard, too, because I had to pack late last night after getting back from the Eks. I didn't go to bed until midnight.

By 6:30am, though, I was in San Narciso, walking up to the Ek house. The women let out a squeal of surprise, laughter, and delight to see me. For the next two and a half hours I helped them make tamales. They cooked me breakfast which I ate with Alfredo and his brother in law. Delicious scrambled eggs with fresh avocado, black beans and pickled habaneros.

At 9am I left to pick up the girls in Christo Rey, but before I left, Jesus, Sarge, a coach, his wife, and his son had piled in the car, too! I hoped I could fit the girls in. As we drove over the bumpy dirt road out of San Narciso we passed Alex Campos. It was a gift to see him one last time. In Christo Rey, Courtney and Abby sat in jump seats in the back of the car, and we had exactly enough seats for everyone. It was a full house. By 10:45am Zac and Mark and I were headed with all my luggage to the Corozal bus station. The express bus came at 11:45am.

While I waited for the bus I had another profound encounter with poverty, only hours before leaving Belize. An elderly white man shuffled into the bus station and sat next to me. He looked like he could be homeless, his fingernails were long and dirty, his clothes were soiled, and his skin was red and horribly flaking. He smelled so bad, so sour, that I had difficulty talking to him. He had a nice voice, though, and told me that he grew up in San Francisco. He claimed that he had a house here in Corozal. He also told me a wild story: how he drove across America in the 1960s, how his car broke down in Alabama, and how he eventually found himself crossing the Edmund Pettus Bridge with the marchers following Martin Luther King, Jr. to Montgomery.

I just couldn't stand his odor and I had to sit outside and wait. This strange kid walked past me and whispered to me to come around the corner. It was really weird and disturbing. I shooed hi away. Finally the express bus came at 12:15pm. I arrived at the airport around 2pm and left Belize at 4pm.

I watched the swamps and jungle and ocean pass away far below me. I was ready to come home.

The Last Full Day

2008-07-24T13:05:00.000-07:00

Thursday
7.24.2008

Last night after I blogged, we went to eat at the Chinese restaurant. My Guinness and my beef chow mein never tasted so delicious. Later I could not sleep, and I discovered that my camera can take long exposures, so I went taking night photographs at 11pm. I caught sight of Presh and Melanie on their enormous, second-story balcony, but they didn't see me.

Thursday morning I woke up early, ready to nail today's final video work. Zac, Kirk, and I interviewed Noe Smith and Albert at Cornerstone. We also got some footage of Zac telling his story at Cornerstone. After lunch we drove to San Narciso. In the middle of our conversation we fell silent when we caught sight of the soccer field. We were astounded. There were 60 kids out on the field, divided into groups, focused, and orderly. Zac later told me that he said to himself, "Who did all this?!" It was impressive to see so many Belizean coaches in control of all these soccer students. When we drove up many kids ran up to greet me. It was special to have formed meaningful relationships with them before I trekked off to Guatemala. Their smiles felt like home. Jesus alerted us that the Belizean news crew was on its way and soon they arrived. I filmed Zac being interviewed for television. The segment would run tonight at 6pm, 9pm, and 10pm. Afterwards I lashed on my back pack and began the 50 foot ascent to the top of the water tower by the field. The railing at the top was rusted out here and there so I hugged the concrete center. On top the view was amazing. I shot another interview with Zac and got lots of B-roll.

The entire month and all the camps came to a ceremonious end later that afternoon. The 2008 Sports Servants camps had ended. It was moving to see the San Narciso and Calcutta boys come together as a team, uniting young leaders from diverse backgrounds.

After all the campers had loaded into the buses and disappeared from our lives for another year, Zac and I split off from the team. We went two blocks away to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Ek senior. We were always planning to visit them, but we had discovered that the clutch fluid was also leaking from the pick up truck.

Mrs. Ek is very sick and Sports Servants recently gave her a generous monetary gift to help pay for her doctor visits and bi-weekly treatments. So all of a sudden I found myself in a special situation, alone with Zac and the entire Ek family. I was honored to be invited. As we walked up we saw Mrs. Ek seated outside by the house. Her husband, her sons and daughters, her sons-in-law and daughters-in-law, and her grandchildren were there. In a separate wooden structure the women were cooking and laughing. The Eks have a beautiful two-story wood and concrete house that they have lived in for 35 years. A second-story porch circles the entire building. They have a two acre back yard that to me was paradise. Jesus showed me the orange, tamarind, lime, banana, coconut and avocado trees. There were habanero plants and other herbs, too. He and his father plucked a young and ripe coconut with a long pole. Jesus' brother, Alfredo, demonstrated how to open a coconut with a machete. Then Zac and I supped from these two coconuts, comparing the flavors. Mr. Ek cracked them open and we ate the tender meat with sugar. Next, Jesus peeled some oranges for us and we tasted those, too.

As the sun began to set Zac and I organized the interview. We set Mr. and Mrs. Ek in chairs beside one another. Then we gathered the entire family around them which looked impressive. Before we started the interview Alex Campos, a strong and intelligent boy, with a fantastic smile, rode up on his bike along with several other boys from the camps. He invited me to his house for dinner. This gift made a realization hit me: "No matter how well, or how poorly, we participated as volunteers in the camps, we became role models to many children, especially to those that we had no clue we affected. They looked up to us." I regretfully but gratefully declined because we were going to have dinner with the Eks. The interview commenced. After the interview Zac and I were presented with Belizean gifts! I received a pen that said Belize on it, a hunk of homemade sweet cake, and a beautiful small tablecloth woven by an Ek sister. (By the way, Ek is Mayan for "wasp" or for "star." Mr. Ek, Sr. speaks fluent Mayan.) The evening was getting better and better.

Then Alex rode up again. He gave me a T-shirt that had the flag of Belize on it. He had also written on the shirt in marker: "To Andrew, From Alex." The generosity of my new friends overwhelmed me again.

Night came, and the rest of the evening was full of laughter and just being with friends. It was a blessing that we had to stay there and wait for the car rental company to come with a new car, because we got to spend so much time with the Eks. They were greatly amused by my interest in the Tamales they were making. They were making 150 of them to sell the next day to raise money for future doctor visits of Mr. Ek. There was no complaining of whining about the hard work, only joyful laughter and enjoyment of the time spent together. (The absence of whining has really stood out to me about the Belizeans and the Guatemalans. There is a tone of negativity that Americans have which these two countries seem to lack.) They invited me to come tomorrow morning at 6am to finish making the tamales with them! I promised that I would try to come before I had to leave for the airport. I hoped that I could make it.

So the wonderful and memorable evening came to a close. I was anxious all of a sudden to come home to the U.S., but I realized that I had made friends here who I felt deeply committed to.

-AR

Corozal: Home Sweet Home

2008-07-23T16:43:00.001-07:00

Wednesday
7.23.2008

I finally made it home to Corozal, Belize! My clock was fast for some reason (I've had this problem a couple of times so far) and so I woke up at 4am and didn't know it! Then I had to wait until 7am for my bus to leave Flores. It was a slow 6 hour ride to Belize City. Fortunately, after a quick break and ATM stop, I jumped on a 1:30pm chicken bus bound for Corozal. We stopped for everyone and everything and I finally arrived in Corozal at 5pm. Whew! It feels great to be back after my 12 day adventure in Guatemala. Below is a photo that Maya and James, whom I met in Antigua, mailed to me today. They thought it was close enough. I love it.
I got a brief debriefing from Zac before he headed over to the camp in Calcutta. Things are going really well. Some amazing new story lines have emerged. Tomorrow we will kick butt and take names - in interviews of course. Then my plane leaves for home on Friday at 4:00pm. I'm looking forward to getting back to Country Music City USA. -AR

Tikal: The Mayan Rome

2008-07-22T19:00:00.001-07:00

Tuesday

7.22.2008

I arrived in Flores at 5am after an eight-hour Linea Dorada bus ride from Guatemala City. Fortunately, Joanna Zaremba gave me one of her prescription sleeping pills, and I slept like a baby. By 8am I had arrived in Tikal National Park with Joanna and two girls from Wisconsin.

Tikal is a stunning site. It is like the Rome of the Mayan world . . . well, sort of. Actually, a lot of things about Tikal remind me of ancient Rome. I like to juxtapose in my mind what was happening thousands of miles away in Europe at the same time as the construction of these Central American pyramids. Both cultures did not know each other existed, and both thought that they were the center of the known universe. Similar to Rome, the first peoples started gathering on the low hill that would become Tikal around 700 B.C. Rome had huts on the Palatine Hill at this time. Around 250 B.C. Tikal was building its first stone structures and Rome was amassing its Republican temples, too. The North Acropolis in the Grand Plaza at Tikal shares similarities with the Capitoline Hill: it is a layering of sacred temples built on top of pre-existing structures dating back to 500 B.C. And the Central Acropolis, on the south side of the Grand Plaza, is the royal palace complex of Tikal like the mansions on the Palatine Hill.

I could give you the whole history but I´ll spare you. The Mayan kings have fabuous names like King Great Jaguar Paw, Moon Double Comb or Lord Chocolate, Lord Water, and my favorite, Smoking Frog. The significant structures are all from the 7th and 8th centuries.

My photos do not represent the many temples, only my best photos.
The sacred Ceiba tree, or world-tree.
Templo II, the Temple of the Masks, in the Grand Plaza opposite The Temple of the Grand Jaguar (Templo I).
High above the jungle canopy on Templo IV with the tops of Temples I and II and III in the background.
The 58m high, enormous, Templo V!
Templo V. Do you see the tiny people at the top?
At the top of Templo V. You can see why they dont allow you to climb the stairs.
That´s me in the blue shirt half way down Templo V.
In the Plaza de los Siete Templos they were restoring a temple. This construction worker whistled us over and showed us what he had trapped in his water bottle!
I felt safe going to the Templos de los Inscripciones with Toby and Christine. By the way, they were my travel buddies all day.
Toby and Christine left at 2pm and I stayed until 5pm. I hoped to catch a gorgeous sunset from the top of Templo IV after the afternoon downpour. Tomorrow at 7am my 12 day Guatemalan extravaganza comes to and end as I travel to Belize City, then north to Corozal. Seeing Tikal was an explosive, and appropriate finale, to Guatemala. -AR

Guatemala By Land

2008-07-21T09:05:00.000-07:00

Monday

7.21.2008

Notes:

Lot's of rain last night

Salon Tecun with German dudes

Conversation with Glen from Colorado about his dissertation research

Breakfast, mass, statues

photo expedition

Meeting Joanna Zaremba from Poland.

farewell to Xela

Aborted Santiaguito Hike

2008-07-19T18:39:00.001-07:00

Saturday
7.19.2008

(Before you get tired of reading this entry check out the two videos in the Video Bar on the right. Santiaguito Hike 1 and 2. There are also pictures from the hike at the bottom.)

Today was the two-day overnight Santiaguito hike, a very difficult six or seven hour hike in and out. It totally kicked my butt - that´s a euphimism. I really don't know how to express how gruelling it was. There were only three of us. Mic from Austria, me, and our guide, Saul. I felt like I was in The Two Towers, romping into Mordor. First of all, Mic and I were hauling 25 pound packs and our guide was hauling an enormous, unbalanced, twice-as-heavy, makeshift pack, like some llama in the Peruvian highlands. The hike began with a steep ascent over the massive bulk of Volcan Santa Maria. She looked different now, two days after the full moon hike. About half way up, at 8,000 feet, we veered to the right and followed a cow trail around Santa Maria´s great mass.

Two and a half hours into the hike it started to rain. We had just passed El Mirado, the lookout over the crater, where clouds obscured everything, even the view of the Pacific Ocean. Our guide told us we definitely would not get to the crater and would have to sleep at plan B campsite. Within the next hour the rain was absolutely pouring. We couldn't see farther than 50 feet because we were in a cloud at about 8,000 feet.

Then we started DESCENDING down the steepest path I think is possible, literally holding on to roots, the volcanic soil crumbling beneath our feet . . . for an hour! I really didn´t like the looks of it because for every step that I hauled my butt into the forest I had to haul it out. On this descent the vegetation turned into scrubby, rooty stuff that stood just barely above our head. The roots were as thick as grass and we were moving through a tunnel of branches that groped for our packs. By now I was totally soaked and muddy and didn't care. After a gruelling, hour descent we finally made it down this ridge to a very wide and rocky trough. The water was really filling up fast and it was super slick. Mic and I stopped for fifteen minutes and held council, weighing in our minds what we should do. Saul said the campsite was still another hour straight down! We tried it for 10 minutes and got even more concerned when we were descending down this drainage trough off Volcan Santa Maria. At night it would only get colder, likely rain more, the cloud wasn't clearing, we had to climb back up this damn vertical path, a guide we passed at El Mirador had told us a storm was coming, we weren't going into the crater or even to the original campsite anyway, and all the rain on the mountain would be coming into this river bed before long. Finally we wised up and turned back; I'm glad we did. The rain came harder and the volume of water was greatly incresing down this flume. The next hour and a half was the hardest freakin hike of my life. Ascending through this otherworldly tunnel, completely soaked, hauling our packs, will get me out of purgatory. It was sooo hard. I was climbing on all fours at times and really using these roots to haul me up. At one point up this steep vertical ascent, the path had collapsed. It was an eight foot cliff we had to get up. Mic got up first and I formed a step with my hands to help hoist our short guide, Saul, up to Mic. We lifted our packs up one by one, followed by our bodies.

We finally made it up around 3:30pm. At El Mirador, the lookout, Santiaguito teased us and poked bits of her spiny, rocky neck up through the clouds. She was so close! It was then apparent that if we had ascended from that rocky river down Santa Maria, and rounded that final ridge, we would have found ourself in Santiaguito´s gray, ashy landscape. Suddenly, like a young bride disrobing on the wedding night, Santiaguito pulled back the clouds, and for twenty long minutes we beheld her smoking cone for the first time. When the eruption finally came, at that exact moment, she closed the curtain of clouds again, giving us a peak of the plume above the clouds, forcing us to listen to her rumbling, and imagine what ecstasy she shrouded at the source.

We had hiked continuously, down a very difficult path made extreme because of bad weather, for 8 hours straight. All my stuff is soaked and tomorrow I'm going to do laundry half the day. My hot shower never felt so good. Was it worth it. . . I don't know. It was certainly an adventure. And an unforgetable adventure.

-AR

The hike in pictures:

7am: Meeting at Kaqchikel Tours. The day is pregnant with promise.

The 30 minute chicken bus ride over a thousand pot holes.

Disembarking from the chicken bus to begin the ascent. Volcan Santa Maria is heavily shrouded in clouds unlike the night of the full moon hike. See that chicken bus rumbling by?

Near the beginning of the hike I got tired, so Saul stuffed me into his enormous pack along with the rest of Guatemala.
Our first stop at El Mirador during the hike in. Nothing but clouds, but at least it is dry!
At El Mirador another hiker tried to join our group without paying.

Turning off the comfy, level path, down down down through cow and horse pastures.

Beginning the step descent in rain and cloud through the mines of Moria.

Our guide, Saul, sems awfully happy despite the circumstances, and despite his heavy load. This guy is one srappy little hombre. Notice the silver star cap on his front tooth.

When we first reached the bottom of this steep descent down the ridge, there was only a trickle in the trough.

After ten difficult minutes of trying to descend down this trough we turned back. The volume of water coming off Volcan Santa Maria had incresed dramatically!

Above that little water fall we had our lunch in the down pour. And my camera fell out of level.

You can´t tell how steep it is. Here we are ascending back up this ridge for the next hour and a half.

Mic looking back at the camera.

Finally we made it back to level ground and El Mirador. You can see the final ridge down in the clouds, past that watery trough - and beyond that, our first glimpse of Santiaguito´s bulk. So near and yet so far!

Our only visible eruption moments before Santiaguito pulled the cloud curtain back across her cone.

Altitude Sickness

2008-07-18T18:49:00.000-07:00

Friday
7.18.2008

During the night I got sick, really sick. I couldn´t figure out what was going on. My skin was really red like I had got sunburn, even though my body had been covered during the full moon hike and even though half of the hike was at night. I felt like I was going to vomit all night and maybe I had a fever. I certainly couldn´t get warm. All my energy was sapped. In the middle of the night I felt so awful I told myself I didn´t care if I couldn´t attempt the Santiaguito hike on Saturday if I still felt like this.

I wanted to skip my Spanish lesson, too. But i had enough strength, and enough pride, to go from 8am to 1pm when I should have been sleeping. My brain didn´t work and neither did my Spanish. I looked at the symptoms for altitude sickness and everything I read matched my experience. Incidents of Altitude Sickness, or AMS, typically happen above 6,500 feet and increase dramatically above 12,000 feet. Xela is at almost 8,000 feet and Volcan Santa Maria is above 12,000 feet. At 8,000 feet the amount of oxygen is 25% less than at sea level and northern Belize is all at sea level. During the full moon hike we had a very rapid ascent, too. I think the cold and the early morning start were additional aggravators.

The only cure for altitude sickness is to descend to lower altitudes, drink water, and sleep alot. I didn´t do enough sleeping but I did move slowly all day. I bought lots of food and 6 liters of water for the Santiaguito hike tomorrow. I wonder if I will have the strength to go. . .
-AR

Volcano Santa Maria y Volcan Santiaguito

2008-07-17T11:41:00.001-07:00

Thursday
7.17.2008

There is so much I need to, and will write, but I just haven't had time. I need to describe the hike in words to really make sense of this haunting, mysterious, greulling, beautiful experience climbing all 12,372 feet of Volcan Santa Maria. This internet cafe closes in 15 minutes. For now, and to share my experience as soon as possible, I will let some pictures do the talking. Check out my panorama video to the right in the video bar. Also on the right click on the link titled Andrew's Video of Santiaguito! Hasta Luego. -AR

Tamale in Paradise

2008-07-16T13:08:00.000-07:00

Wednesday
7.16.2008

Quick update. Today was simple and relaxed. I was very studious, went to Spanish class for five hours, took a two hour lunch break, and hit the Spanish flash cards for three hours. I took a walk around Parqueo Centrale and these photographs are what I saw. Right at sunset the moon was in opposition. Seeing the moon rise at dusk gave me goosebumps - I was going to climb Volcan Santa Maria at 1am! I haven't mentioned it yet, but every night so far the state turns off the electricity from 6 - 8pm. You think they could choose a better time! So I went to bed in the dark, excited, awaiting the hike. -AR

I Heart Quetzaltenango

2008-07-15T10:25:00.000-07:00

Tuesday
7.15.2008

I slept deeply last night. It gently rained all through the early morning and the air was cool, clear, and refreshing, wafting from the lake through my open window. The night was peaceful and soothing. The temperature has not risen above the 70s here in the highlands which is a welcome relief form the humidity of Belize. Last night I could have been sleeping in a cabin in the Smokies or in a tent in Oregon.

At 5:30am I was packed and walked to the third story terrace to watch the sunrise over Lago de Atitlan. The sun never made it over the ridge, of course, but the sun cast an amazing pink glow on the underside of the thick clouds.

At 6:05am the tourist shuttle had not arrived so I jumped on a ¨chicken bus¨headed to Quetzaltenango, or Xela. Yes, the doorman did throw my backpack on the roof. I am so glad that I took this bus instead. It only cost $3.50 for a three hour ride through the highlands. That crazy Spanish pop music was loudly thumping for the entire trip but it made the atmosphere really festive. 60 people at a time would squeeze on to this lively, converted school bus, complete with outrageous and colorful decals. I found the market photo below on the internet, but this is exactly what I see everywhere.

One gringa was on the bus for about an hour, otherwise, I was the only foreigner. It was obviously the morning commute, everyone knew eachother, and were laughing and talking. The views out the windows were spectacular. (I found this photo on the internet, too.)

At 9am we pulled into the bus terminal/outdoor market/forum/taxi station/soccer field . . . everything was happening. It was a human carnival. A taxi driver called Quetzaltrekkers for me but they did not pick up. My Lonely Planet guide recommended Kaqchikel Tours so I went there. (Definitely go here when you come to climb volcanoes in Guatemala. Check out his website in the links to the right and take a look at the tours.) My taxi driver was friendly and had a great smile. In fact, my experience of Guatemalans is that they are some of the nicest people I´ve met travelling. Eduardo Patzan is the owner of Kaqchikel Tours and was there to greet me. His daughter showed me a video that one of his clients had taken on a hike to the crater of Santiaguito, the most active volcano in Guatemala. This Dutch guy was filming himself when suddenly, a hundred yards behind him, the volcano blew up ash and lava hundreds of feet into the air. The Dutch guy was yelling ¨holy shit¨ and pulled people into frame for a group hug with this mountaneous cloud of ash and fire billowing up behind him! (WATCH THE ERUPTION video in the links to the right. I hope this happens to me on Saturday.) Eduardo was really helpful and even showed me his home which is also a hostel. So by 10am everything had unfolded before my eyes even though I had arrived without reservations or any nailed down plans. I am going to stay at his house in a gigantic room with high ceilings, a private bathroom, and a hot shower for 6 nights at $7 per night.

I also signed up for two tours with him. The first tour departs at 1am Thursday morning to the top of Santa Maria Volcano by the light of the full moon. It overlooks the hourly eruptions from Santiaguito, the most active volcano in Guatemala. The second tour depends on how many people sign up. Hopefully the extreme tour into Santiaguito´s crater will make. (That´s where the dutch guy filmed the movie I told you about.) The alternate hike is to the top of dormant Tajulmulco, the highest peak in Central America.

And as if my day wasn´t good enough already. I signed up for 20 hours of Spanish classes over four days. I didn´t want to waste time waiting for the hikes. And it´s only $100 for these one-on-one lessons. My first class starts at 1am today. I even get free internet here at the language school. I opted out of living with a Mayan family for $125. What time is it now? It´s only 12:06pm. What other good things will happen today?

-AR

A Deep Lake and Towering Volcanoes

2008-07-14T19:08:00.000-07:00

Monday
7.14.2008

I woke up this morning at 6am, packed, ate a cliff bar, and waited for my shuttle to Lago de Atitlan. There were 6 of us passengers in the tin can of a van. We rattled away over the uneven cobblestones of Antigua. Coincedentally an American woman I had chatted with during my ascent of Pecaya was on the shuttle with her son. I assume he has been in Antigua studying. It was nice having her to talk to. The main highway was closed so we took back roads the whole way! About 3 hours bumping and rattling around in that little van. The drive was breathtakingly beautiful, though. We drove through the highlands of Guatemala. The clouds were thick, low, and wet. I never imagined that these lush forests existed in Cental America. It dawned on me that it resembled the northwest United States. It seemed like we had entered a different country. Everyone we passed was Mayan and colorfully dressed. All we passed were farms, impossibly carved into the steep hillsides. My memory was overwhelmed with many details that I can´t fully list or remember. Some striking images were cows in the road, unbelievably narrow streets when we passed through villages, no guard rails on snaky mountain passes, powdery mine-sliced hillsides, and houses made from saplings and corrugated tin. The steep mountains resembled the bizarre shapes of the Yangtze river canyons - it looked more like an Asian landscape than Central America.

I had wanted to get on to Quetzaltenango (¨Xela¨). When I arrived in Panajachel (¨Pana¨) there were not enough tourists going there to fill up a morning bus. So I got a great room at Mario´s Rooms on the main drag. Down at the lakeside a water taxi took me to Santiago Atitlan village. It felt very foreign - a lot of begging kids, dirty streets, and all Mayan folks. I wandered to the top of the town and happened upon the interesting church there, Inglesia Santiago, I think. It has its origins in the 1500s. Many half life-size wood carvings of various saints lined both sides of the nave. It is a pretty massive church. Each figure was dressed in all kinds of brightly colored ornaments and garments. It felt sort of spooky to me.

On the left is Volcan Toliman and on the right is Volcan San Pedro. The lake is a vast 9 miles or so wide, and 300m deep, I believe. I´m sure there are dinosaurs down there. All afternoon I wandered down the bustling, exciting streets, eating ice cream and other street foods. Tomorrow I take a 6am bus for the two hour ride to Quetzaltenango. Í'm hoping I will get to climb Tuljumulco, the highest peak in CA. See you tomorrow. -AR

Volcan de Pecaya, Behold!

2008-07-13T15:38:00.000-07:00

Sunday
7.13.2008

I'm following behind on blogs. So to catch up I will try to refrain from my important meditations and give you some snapshots. When it comes to volcanoes, pictures are worth a million words.

Volcan de Pecaya from my bus window on our way from Antigua.

At the beginning of our hike looking north, I think, back towards the volanoes that circle Antigua, Acatenango(?) and Fuego, the more distant peak. There was a thrilling moment early on as we zig zagged up a dirt road through the jungle past lush coffee gardens - Fuego belched up a little atomic cloud of gray ash. The anticipation was maddening.
After a two hour ascent the jungle cleared and behold, Lord Pecaya Cometh!

Traversing the razor sharp rocks of old lava flows as we journey towards Mt. Doom to destroy the One Ring.

You can't tell, but the end of that particular fissure is about 8 feet behind me and flowing towards my back! At that distance it felt like a massive bonfire that you are trying to get close enough to to roast marshmallows, but it's just too durn hot!

This dude's walking stick is on fire. Do you think they would allow tourists to climb around like this in the U.S.? Never! (Later tonight I would actually hang out with him. He is a 26 year old Australian named Sam.)
On another side of the young crater this mighty stream was flowing down.

Around 3pm I grabbed a muerzo for $2 and ate on top of this terrace. That's fuego again on the left. Every six or seven minutes it would belch that little atomic cloud that I mentioned seeing early this morning. It was astonishing to eat my tortillas and watch the show.
After taking a delicious shower after my hike I walked the streets of Antigua. I thought that I could make it through the markets without buying anything but I was wrong. By that time it was dark and the irrestible carnival at the edge of town beckoned me. I was the only gringo there! It was a blast. A hispanic carnival is totally different than a white one. There are more colors, more tight clothes, more children, more smells, more laughing, and more obnoxious popular music than one can imagine. For $1.25 I got the ride of my life, and likely of my death, on this loco ferris wheel. It soared fifty feet above the fair, held together by flimsy struts, pins, and cables. The ride operator was some kid on a cannibalized tractor which had been rigged up to the ferris wheel. He literally sat on the tractor and shifted gears to turn it! You cannot believe how fast he spun this wheel. The ringmaster didn´t care about age, weight, or height. He let everybody on. It was terrifying and probably more dangerous than the volcano this morning.

After the wheel of death I rode another terrifying ride and then caught a three wheeled scooter taxi to Cafe No Se to meet Maya and James Stewart. They are a cool Chicago couple I met while climbing Pecaya. They are going to travel for 9 months before having kids. It was a great cafe and we had a wondeful time over drinks. Sam (remember the guy poking his staff into the lava?) and Zach, two Australian back packers from the Pecaya ascent joined us. -AR

The National Museum Then On To Antigua

2008-07-12T17:12:00.000-07:00

Saturday
7.12.2008

The eight-hour overnight bus ride from Flores to Guatemala City was awful. I was particularly anxious for some reason, certainly aggravated by trying to sleep on a moving vehicle. The jungle passing by in the glow of the bus headlights seemed particularly ominous and haunted to me.

We arrived in GC at 5am. My Lonely Planet guidebook, and a nice elderly Guatemalan gentleman I had been talking to, so frightened me about the crime in GC that I stayed put in the bus station. It was probably better that way. At 8am I sheepishly telephoned Claudia Villavicencio's parents and tried to ask for her in Spanish. I reached her fluent father and fortunately he did not tolerate my made up Spanish. He told me that Claudia and her mother were driving back from El Salvador and would not return until noon! I tried Claudia´s mom´s phone but, alas, to no avail. I was getting anxious. I didn´t want to hang around in the Linea Dorada bus station any more so I took a taxi to the Marriot. After some negotiating I got a taxi driver to take me to the National Museum of Archaeology and Ethnography, the only place that sounded interesting, and accessible, in my guidebook. Boy, it was really worth it, too. Look at the disturbing Mayan artifacts I saw.

An incredible scale model of the Tikal complex.

An elaborate Mayan relief has been carved into the forehead of this human skull!
I think it´s really attractive to file your teeth into animal points.
The gallery of stelae, in a beautiful Spanish baroque courtyard centered around a fountain, was impessive. The elaborate relief carving is astounding to see close up. Three observations/questions I was pondering at the museum - 1. Mayan art was as sophisticated as Greek art I have seen. 2. Why could the Mayans not achieve a unified state even though they had monumental stone architecture? 3. I better get out of this empty museum before something eats me!

My taxi driver was waiting for me when the museum closed at noon for everyone´s siesta. He took me to the Holiday Inn this time. A very helpful travel agent let me use her phone to call Claudia. I finally reached her but unfortunately her mother was very sick. I was not going to be able to stay with the Villavicencios after all! The travel agent called me a cab and helped me get to Antigua by taxi for only $20!

Antigua was a great surprise. It is, quite literally, Europe plunked down in Central America. It´s Trastevere transplanted to the jungle. I love it. Here is the view from my hotel, Las Golondrinas. -AR

Express Bus into the Mayan Cradle

2008-07-12T17:10:00.000-07:00

Friday

7.11.2008

At 430am I woke Zac up. Before 5am we were taking a stab at our second timelapse attempt. It was the most beautiful sunrise so far. Zac sat silhouetted under a palapas on Corozal Bay as the sun exploded above the water horizon. Zac had an important meeting in the Belizean capital, Belmopan, to discuss SportsServants. He would drop me off in Belize City on the way. At 7am Zac and I had Reid take this picture of us just in case I died buried under Mayan ruins in the jungle somewhere and Zac would have to send it to my family.

Around 3pm on my four-hour bus ride to Flores across the border in Guatemala. Notice the wide open door. It made for a nice breeze.
Crossing the Belize and Guatemala border was wild and weird. We had to pay fees for both countries. A narrow strip of no-man´s land lay between the borders where mariachi, money changers, suspect characters, and street food reigned.

My first glimpse of Mayan country, a haunting and magical landscape.
After waiting for two hous in Santa Elena, outside Flores, I boarded the huge double decker overnight bus bound for Guatemala City.

-AR

Cut! That's a Wrap.

2008-07-12T17:09:00.001-07:00

Thursday

7.10.2008

I was feeling good about my trip to Guatemala. It was a little bittersweet knowing that two amazing weeks with Sports Servants was at an end. I knocked out some final interviews in San Narciso. Mr. Nuvelo, I think he´s called, rode up on his bike to watch the kids playing an exciting soccer match. I had interviewed him at the beginning of the week and it pleased me to get a picture with him. He has a great face.
Many memorable things happened today. One was Sarge´s excitement when he received his official referee uniform from Allen McDonald.
This picture is in the wrong blog entry. It should go in tomorrow´s blog. A typical Belizean home. One room and full of children.
A fun meal out at Patty´s Bistro and Bar. I was going to sample cow foot´s soup, honest, but when I heard it had tripe in it I changed my mind. Fish and chips was a reliable alternative.

-AR

Three Days Lump Sum

2008-07-09T21:46:00.001-07:00

Monday 7.7.2008 – Wednesday 7.9.2008

Please grant me this exception to lump days one through three of the kids camps into one blog entry. This lump sum is the result of my debt owed to memory, and my deficiency paying my unmerciful creditor, Blogger. Also, forgive the dearth of vivid photographs. The irony is that I am taking hundreds of thousands of photographs on video.

The filmmaking strategy changed for this week. Zac and I began working more as a team with Zac taking on the role of production assistant, producer, and interviewer.

Monday - Josh brought fresh energy, dynamic coaching, and an analytical eye to our first day with the kids. We were disappointed that only Jesus Ek was available to coach the morning camp in San Narciso. There were further distractions because promptly at 8am a caravan of trucks and vans arrived. Suddenly the hurricane shelter/community center/coaching workshop classroom had become a medical clinic. An army of Americans, who looked like weird, high-organized space aliens to me, spilled into the room and began unloading supplies like the industrious leaf-cutter ants in our driveway. Jesus hoped that families coming to the one-day only free clinic would get exposure to our camps. So, poor Jesus had to run back and forth between the clinic and coaching camps. Jesus and Alfredo’s mother is having kidney problems related to diabetes and they are operating on her this week. I am inspired by his dedication to the kids. You would never know that he was looking after his mother simultaneously. The afternoon was better and more Belizeans showed up. I have to admit that I was disappointed with the guys at our nightly meeting. I was the only one with negative “man points” for asking for seconds before we prayed at dinner at Mr. Moralez’ house!

Tuesday morning I awoke to my 4:30am alarm ring. Then I shook Zac’s leg. He groaned. By 5am we were about a quarter of a mile away from the house unloading camera equipment by Corozal Bay. I was going to shoot a timelapse of the sunrise over the bay with Zac silhouetted in the foreground, sitting in a palapas thatched hut, and writing in his journal. The concept was metaphorically to stage Zac’s initial vision for Sports Servants. The footage could also be used at any other time in the video we will be editing from this summer. Zac narrated the first video and if we continue that structure in the updated edit, this footage could come in a handy – a real “wow” image. As we approached the hut we felt the relentless and strong wind licking up off the choppy waves. And in the darkness we noticed a familiar bum, sleeping on the floor of the hut. Bums can really mess up your brilliant filmmaking plans, you know. We decided to shoot it anyway. Zac sat at the opposite end of the concrete table and his feet were beside the feet of our supine sleeper. I raised my voice over the wind to communicate with Zac and I saw the sleepy and confused forehead and eyes of the sleeper peek over the table at us. About 10 minutes into the animation, from the perspective of the camera that is, the silhouette of the sleeper rises out of the earth, packs up his things, and saunters off. Zac continues journaling without a glance. I’m glad he left early because the sunrise turned out to be astounding. We shot on hour of footage. You don’t know how painful it was getting up at 7:30am, though! In the morning I went with Carver and Reid to their camp in Calcutta, another village of East Indians like San Antonio. They were all young kids, it was a beautiful soccer field, and they were really sweet and well-behaved. I enjoyed the change of scene. Carver helped me conduct a great interview with Frank. Frank is a security guard in the free zone. He goes to work from 7pm to 7am, takes a quick nap, and then coaches the children because he loves soccer. An amazing volunteer, indeed! Zac and I were so tired that after lunch we misplaced the truck key (which was hanging from the truck door) and we passed out. I sneaked in a good, one-hour power nap. I couldn’t have made it through the day otherwise. The high light of the day was the walking interview/tour that Lincoln gave Zac and me in San Antonio village. For those of you reading this blog, San Antonio is the East Indian village where Byron lives. It’s the most uncomfortable neighborhood we’ve had camps, if you know what I mean. We ate at Tony’s Hotel for dinner and the service was absolutely horrible. Zac hit his stopwatch and it took one hour and twenty-three minutes to get our appetizers.

Today, Wednesday, we got knock out interviews. We got numerous kids and on camera and tried to follow Osvaldo’s story. His father, Romero Pech is an amazing man. He built his humble wood and tin home, and painted it bright Caribbean blue for his family: his wife, Eden (8 years old), Osvaldo (11 years old), and his daughter (years old). In the back is a small shed and, of course, a clothesline flying a rainbow of laundry, fluttering like Tibetan prayer flags. The house is one large rectangle. Mr. Pech has divided the house in half width-wise with a wall that does not even reach the ceiling. The rafters are visible on top of which is hammered corrugated tin. There is little chinking between the horizontal wood siding that also constitutes the walls. The half of the house that we entered was a beautiful surprise. I think a momentary hush fell on Zac as it did on me. The interior was also painted the same color as the outside, that outrageous Caribbean turquoise. But paintings covered the walls, Mr. Pech’s paintings. Most were beautiful still-lifes. Pitchers, a knife, and a sliced papaya or mango, for instance. In the center of the room was the largest painting, a nearly life-size jaguar reclining on the jungle floor, his head perked up alertly as if the viewer had disturbed him. Another small painting on the opposite wall depicted a felled tree and a cougar growling beside it. On another wall was some kind of fabulous creature that resembled a harpy and a mermaid. The painting that intrigued me most was leaning against a wall in the corner of the room. In this work, a mischievous angel, resembling the barefoot Belizean urchins you see everywhere, wears tattered clothes and holds a tin cup. He stands on rocks in a rushing stream, looking out from the painting and laughing at the viewer. Mr. Pech told us that he had this dream, woke up, and painted it. In the dream he was afraid to drink the water but this angel appeared, playfully scooped up the water, drank it, and proved to Mr. Pech that it wasn’t contaminated. I want to buy this painting. Real Belizean folk art! The most beautiful painting of all was an old portrait of his wife. It was a fine portrait, a really fine portrait. It resembled a Frida Kahlo painting. Her red blouse seemed to radiate out from her heart and surround her head in rays of golden light. I wish I had my still camera with me to take pictures! It turns out that Mr. Pech was born in San Narciso, one of seven brothers. As a young man he would wake up at 3am, workout for an hour, and then go work in the sugar cane fields all day. He was known as the most fit man in town. He also trained in Karate and in Mexican wrestling. In his early twenties he went to Mexico to become a boxer. Once he got married he left boxing. His left hand was injured, though, and he decided to paint to rehabilitate it. Pretty soon friends wanted his paintings. His dad convinced him to at least charge enough money to pay for his supplies. He told me that the three reasons he paints is for concentration, meditation, and relaxation. He began painting murals and taking other commercial jobs from time to time. Then he showed us old photos of his life. He was amazingly fit, the Jackie Chan of San Narciso.

After lunch Zac and I stayed behind at the house to plan some things out. After two hours online I finally figured out how to get to Guatemala City by bus. My current plan is to ride with Zac and the others to Belmopan early Friday morning. (They are going to the capital to meet with people at the Embassy. Go Sports Servants!) On their way they are swinging through Belize City to pick up Fitz. They will drop me off and I will take a taxi into Belize City to hang out. At 2:30pm my air conditioned express bus leaves for Flores and arrives there at 7:30pm. Then at 9:30pm I continue on an 8-hour overnight bus to Guatemala City. Claudia is supposed to arrive on Saturday but I haven’t heard from her. I sure hope she will be there. I plan to stay with her for a day or two before heading to Lago de Atitlan with a short stop in Antigua. After surmounting boiling volcanoes ringing the lake I will return to GC, rejuvenate at Claudia’s house, and then head back to Corozal. I am really tempted to stop in Flores on the return trip. From Flores you can hire a guide to take you on a three to five night expedition into the jungle, literally, where you battle mud, ticks, mosquitoes, and the rainy season. There are no campsites or shelters. Then you arrive at the greatest complex in the Mayan world, El Mirador. The tallest Mayan temple is buried in the jungle here, El Tigre, which rises 18 stories above the forest floor.

In San Antonio this evening the camp went fabulously. Josh gave a great interview and I shot B-roll of the soccer game and of some beautiful children. As we were leaving new recruits arrived, the girls: Abby, Ellie, Presh, and Melanie. David, who had left to catch a bus to Belize City and eventually a plane home, showed up because his bus never arrived on Corozal. We all went to dinner at the Chinese Restaurant, got hustled by a San Antonio kid wiping down our cars without permission, and came home. A few minutes ago as I was writing the last sentence a roaring sound started coming from outside. A terrifying wind had kicked up and the rain came down in torrents. The tallest palms whipped back and forth like a dinosaur was barreling through the jungle. It looked disturbingly eerie in the dark. This is the natural world of the Mayans, filled with magic, and certainly haunted.

-AR

Wimbledon and Departure

2008-07-06T07:31:00.002-07:00

Sunday
7.6.2008

I had planned to wake up with the roosters and the sun at a crazy hour. The sun rises here at 5:23am, but the transition from night to that beautiful and mysterious deep purple sky, when clouds first begin to betray their presence, occurs around 4:30am. I had also planned to wake Reid up, rent a tandem sea kayak around 7am, and paddle around the barrier reef, half a mile offshore, until our plane left around 1pm. However, I needed to sleep so I got up by 7am. It was a slow, laid back morning. I spent two hours updating my blog, hanging out in Sondra’s Monkey Business Travel Agency downstairs and listening to perpetual techno on XM radio. Techno sends me into a trance after awhile; I guess that’s what it’s supposed to do.

Coach K, Allen, Reid, Brad, Carver, and particularly Zac, were watching the great Wimbledon battle between Nadal and Ferderer. The game was cut short because we had to make our plane. This time I got a window seat and Josh got the cockpit. This time I could make out the dark shapes of sharks and rays swimming in the crystal blue waters hundreds of feet below us. The sun reflected off a white, underwater expanse of white sand. Beautiful. I filmed a lot of B-roll of the jungle and marshes passing beneath us. I even zoomed in on the Mayan ruin of Cerros. Josh and I were tired of rice and beans for dinner so he and I grabbed a beer and some Chinese food. It was a great change of company and I enjoyed getting to know him.

-AR

Nurse Sharks and Sting Rays

2008-07-06T07:31:00.001-07:00

Saturday

7.5.2008

At 5:01am I suddenly awoke and it was already getting light outside. I went out on a nearby peer and watched the sunrise. The sky was a spectacular light show of strips of light and dark, orange and purple. Allen, Reid and I ate breakfast around 7am. At 9am Brad, Reid, Allen, Carver, and I headed out onto a dock to wait for our boat that would take us to Hol Chan Cut and Shark Ray Alley to spend the next few hours snorkeling. Zac went by himself on a fishing tour around the reef and Coach K went windsurfing (see photo below).

Our tour of the reef was beyond belief. I will upload photos once I get my underwater disposable camera developed. We should have some amazing shots. First we went snorkeling from depths between 5-30 feet along the coastal side of the reef. The current and wind were strong and the waves pretty choppy. When the sun came out it lit up the beautiful, crystal clear waters. We split into two groups and our guide pointed out numerous fish, urchins and anemoenes. Within a minute of entering the water a four foot nurse shark passed me on his way through the sea grass. At a "cave" our guide dove down and dropped some chum to coax the morae eel out of its den! I was lagging behind our group and suddenly caught sight of Allen (who is PADI certified) dive down and grasp for a sea turtle, who politely brushed him off and glided away into the turquoise waters. Later on I passed a lone barricuda and our guide pointed out an octopus who had squeezed himself into a small hole like some underwater magician in a top hat.
After a short Fanta break our boat headed to the famous Shark Ray Alley. Our awesome guide and captain instructed us on the way there. He threw a tube filled with chum into the 7 foot deep water and left the engine humming like a dinner bell for the saltwater locals. Immediately about five five-foot nurse sharks, several enormous sting rays, and other large fish were swarming below our boat. We all jumped in. By chance I plunged in next to our instructor and I was the first one to hold the nurse shark that he had coaxed up to him. He grabbed my arm and put it firmly around the five-foot nurse shark. The shark was docile like a pet dog, his underbelly was soft and white and his brown back felt like a basketball. For the next twenty minutes everyone from our excursion swarmed around the boat with the schools of sharks, fish, and rays. The instructor started showing off and grabbed an enormous ray, four-feet in diameter, and spun it around in circles on the top of his head like a saucer. He even dove down and let the ray sit on the back of his head. I guess he has never heard of the Crocodile Hunter! He helped us all get photo ops with the nurse sharks. They seemed to like being flipped upside down, cradled, and petted on their white underbellies.

In the afternoon Brad, Carver, and I grabbed some local fare for lunch. I went wandering and on the way home down the beach I ran into everybody. Coach K gave me windsurfing lessons. I never became a pro but I had some brilliant moments. The afternoon slipped away lazying around the hotel and we all dined at Caramba's Restaurant. Josh, our newest rotation for the week, arrived around 4pm. We told stories from the week at dinner, laughed, and shared. I ate a tasty shrimp salad but I put too much habanero sauce on it and I drank a banana smoothie to try to staunch the burn on my tingling lips.

-AR

Day Five: Ambergris Paradise

2008-07-04T18:25:00.000-07:00

Friday

7.4.2008

Happy Independence Day! It's when you are outside of America that you appreciate it the most, particularly on its birthday. This afternoon we flew in a 16 seater to San Pedro on Ambergris Caye. It feels like paradise after the gritty work this week.

I will be writing more so check back. I just uploaded the last two days' blogs due to internet problems. Now I am laughing with Reid and Zac and we are asking the receptionist about the island and about tours. XM Radio is thumping out Euro discoteque techno. Apparently the best dancing is at Jaguars . . .

I'm back, two days later, that is. Below are some images of our hotel. All eight of us are divided between the second and third story suites in the vertical image of the balconies. An incredible view.

-AR

San Narciso: Day Four

2008-07-04T18:19:00.001-07:00

Thursday

7.3.2008

An Easier Day

This morning before the workshops David and I knocked out an interview with Alfredo Ek. He was concise and clear on camera. He taught us that Ek is a Mayan word (but I am forgetting what it means right now). Allen and I gave our digital still cameras to Ismael and his brother, Evelio. It occupied them most of the day, at least until the batteries ran out, and they left me with hundreds of ridiculous pictures to erase. They had the time of their lives playing with these cameras. On the field the kids mobbed me today. I forgot to mention that every day when Coach K demos on the field what he taught in the classroom, we park the pickup truck out on the field and I film the drills from there. Today, at any given time, I had about eight kids climbing on the windshield, the cab, or tailgating. New kids showed up on their bikes. (I wish I had a production company made up of a twelve and under crew because we would hammer out a bunch of projects.) At lunch David and I caught Eliaphez and Jesus Ek for interviews. Today’s lunch was a sort of Belizean stir-fry.

In the afternoon we returned to San Antonio. I was a little anxious about coming back, I will admit. We got started much quicker than yesterday which helped, but when we first arrived a strange man came up to me off the street. His name was John, he kept repeating his name and, actually, he had a little bit of an Indian accent. He looked very Indian and wore a cluttered necklace of dirty little trinkets and discarded objects. “My house is the white one,” he said as he pointed to a patch of trees I couldn’t see beyond, “and men from Texas live across the street.” As he continued to stumble over his words and repeat himself I asked him what his job was. He said that he smokes weed and “rock.” Next he began to fish in his plastic bag, I held my breath, but he pulled out a handful of tiny green balls. All I had to do was peel this delicious fruit.
Lincoln wanted Coach K to teach the younger children to be a team and for Allen to teach the same thing to the older kids. Then he suggested that these two teams scrimmage! That’s the way they learn - the younger compete with the older. During the drills I occupied a corner of the field nearest to the turquoise shack (see previous blog entry) and played a fun game of frisbee with extremely cute kids, mostly ages 10 and younger. Once the drills finished and the scrimmage began, our frisbee group moved to a dusty cement “court” that appeared to be the concrete slab for some unfinished portion of the school. I had the inspiration to give them rides by lifting them above my head in front of me and running around the court. The harder they flapped their “wings” the longer and faster they flew. They immensely enjoyed themselves. Byron eventually joined us. I had a fairly unemotional and very fun time playing this last game and making Byron fly. He smiled and wiggled his hands. The little kids I played with asked when we were coming back and waved to me as we drove away. (Later I found out that during the scrimmage one boy left to make a drug deal and came back to finish the game.)

Returning home exhausted, we wrapped up the day with dinner at Hotel Maya. After dinner everyone took care of his business and we prepared certificates and photos to give the coaches tomorrow. We also signed books to give to them.

I can’t wait for tomorrow - our 232nd year of independence and the Caribbean waters of Amergris Caye.

-AR

Day Three: Meeting Byron

2008-07-04T18:12:00.000-07:00

Meeting Byron

Wednesday
7.2.2008

When I woke up this morning I had no idea it would be my toughest, yet most rewarding day so far. The test would not happen until the early evening.

The coaches were running on Belizean time and Coach K did not begin teaching until 10am. Belizean time must come out of Carribean culture; It is certainly unrelated to the calendar obsessed Mayans. It’s healthy, though, to learn to slow down. While we waited for coaches to arrive I played with Nel. He has down syndrome and is about 30 years old.
He wears the same clothes every day and smells like a homeless person in the United States; he hauls around a Winnie the Pooh back pack, and pushes a baby stroller. He just wants to play and loves to give hugs - in fact, he’s obsessed with giving hugs. His sound effects and ninja skills transcend his ability to speak only Spanish. I played with him for an hour. Ismael joined in, too. We played tag and I let Nel vanquish me with laser beams from his fingertips. I think I tired him out for the rest of the day because he disappeared after we stopped playing. He certainly exhausted me and I could not stop streaming sweat. Therefore lunch was a great relief - moist tamales wrapped in hot plantain leaves.

We returned to Corozal around 3pm for a quick nap. By 4pm we were headed to a village called San Antonio to coach some more. Our contact was Lincoln. Zac told me not to bring the video camera, but I didn’t understand until we arrived. San Antonio is located less than one mile inland from the Corozal town square. I couldn’t believe that it was considered to be another village. We turned down a dirt road and I noticed a familiar shack. Then I noticed a familiar wooded area beside a water tower. I had been to that wooded area! It shrouded Santa Rita, the Mayan ruin that I explored on Sunday. Just several blocks from the ruin beside the road was a rundown soccer field. Adjacent to it was the most dilapidated concrete school house I had ever seen. On the opposite side of the field was a two-story, brightly painted peach-colored house. On the long side of the field, between the school and this house was a nicely maintained house and yard.

But at the corner of the field, squeezed between this manicured yard and the school, was a shanty town composed of wooden, one-room shacks, connected by trails running through overgrown bushes, snaking through the thick tropical foliage between rusting cars to other shacks that would be considered storage sheds, not homes, in America. One shack above all drew my attention - almost beckoned to me. Concrete slabs, tin cans, plastic, and trash littered the edge of the soccer field or sat nestled in the underbrush sweeping up to this structure. Clothes lines stretched out from the right side of its happy, turquoise exterior, a beautiful Carribean hue. Children were everwhere. Twenty or thirty of them. The teenagers and early twenty-somethings sat in the portico of the school house, but most of the children were ten years old and younger. Most of them were bear foot. They were very dark-skinned, descendents of East Indians actually, maybe with a sliver of African in them. Puddles from the daily showers collected in pools of dark mud. One boy sat in a red wheelchair by the house. A despondent man, the father perhaps, who knows, snacked on something in a window. A woman watched the little children play, her enormous pregnant belly bulging through her tight shirt. But framing the doorway, rather than being framed by the doorway, dominating the landscape, sat the matriarch, like some wild and fantastic vision of earth mother herself. Her knotty black hair swept back from her head, which seemed dimunitive atop her large body. She wore a short skirt that her thighs bulged out from under, and her halter top supported her huge, sagging breasts. She looked worn out, and used up, from enduring the relentless toil of her day to day existence. I couldn’t take my eyes off the scene. I was in disbelief. I have never experienced poverty like this with my own eyes.

While we waited for Lincoln I noticed the minutest details around me. I felt like I was tumbling into this image. And somehow - I am still in utter astonishment how - in absolute juxtaposition to the squalor were the smiles of the children. Their faces radiated beauty and love. We mingled with the teenagers and children around the portico of the school and quickly learned that the people in this shanty town were all related. One twenty-something on a bike wore an Eddie George jersey, another unbelievably fit guy clenched the bars on a window to flex his muscles through his white tank top, and a beautiful three-year old girl covered in filth grinned at me from around the corner.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off the boy in the red wheelchair near the turquoise shack. He wheeled up to me and I found out that his name was Byron. He was difficult to understand and said that he was ten years old. He seemed intellectually slow; I imagined that a fever may have been the cause. He was barefoot, covered in filth and smelled a little like urine. He didn’t seem crippled but his legs were very thin. Dot-like discolorations were sprinkled across his feet, legs, and hands, and in some places they seemed to coalesce into bulging blister-like bumps. He moved his hands in an awkward and twisted way. His cavities looked like spots of black mold on the undersides of some of his teeth. A red haze crept up from the corners of his eyes inwards towards the center. Who knows what parasites are living inside his body.

Finally, Lincoln arrived and Coach K began coaching on the field. I felt an awkward tension like we were not yet accepted by the village. Many of the little kids came up to the edge of the field to watch. I wheeled Byron on the field and sat next to Zac. That’s when a wave of emotion really hit me. Above all, I felt sad and confused, but it was certainly tinged with some anger and frustration at the squalor and neglect of these children. “What was I supposed to do about this neglect?” I thought. “How was I supposed to feel? What did these feelings mean? Why will the poor always be with us? Why did these people live like this? Why do children suffer? Why is Byron suffering from preventable disease!” I started to cry pretty heavily, even sobbing some, but I struggled to hold it back.

We finished before 6pm and left; it felt like another 8 hour day being there. By 7pm we left to go to Mr. and Mrs. Moralez’ home for dinner. Mr. Moralez is vice-principle of San Narciso school and has been at the workshops. He wanted to invite us to dinner to say thank you. They were gracious and their home was beautiful and comfortable. It felt like the Taj Mahal after this afternoon. I sat at the far end of the table beside David and Alfredo Ek, who I talked to most of the dinner. The evening was full of boisterous laughter and bonding with the Belizeans. We were grateful guests in the home of these simple, good, honest people. For an hour Alfredo answered my questions about Belizean: He described the difference in flavor that Tamales have that are made from fresh maize as opposed to manufactured tortillas, or the rich flavor that wrapping tamales in plantain leaves gives, or the subtle difference that cooking the tamales under the earth instead of on open coals imbues the tamales with. After dinner Mr. Morales, Jesus, and Alfredo expressed their fear that Sports Servants might move the camps out of San Narciso. They also expressed their opinion that the most successful way to grow SS would be to have the Belizean government accredit it. Zac looked like all his dreams had come true. Reflecting on this evening I am reminded of something Zac suggested to me on my first day. He said that the natural question is to ask what these Belizeans don’t have; the useful question, and more truthful question, is to ask “What do they have?”

San Narciso: Day Two

2008-07-01T15:24:00.001-07:00

Tuesday

7.1.2008

Well, uploading these pictures tested my patience. It took more than 30 minutes. A crying baby, noisy streets, muggy air, a computer crash, and unbelievably slow internet. I'll let these pictures be worth a thousand words. More tomorrow.

-AR

San Narciso: Day One

2008-06-30T15:42:00.000-07:00

Monday

6.30.2008

Shortly after 6am I was up and exercising again. While we loaded up the cars I stepped in my first fire ant nest in flip flops. They move fast and suddenly are covering your feet. At 7:10am we piled into two cars (I rode Belizean style in the back of the pick up truck) and we sped south to San Narciso, 20 minutes away. We eventually broke into the hurricane shelter which also doubles as the community center. Sports Servants held its coaching seminars here last year. San Narciso is a small town of bout 3,000, the largest village in the north. Local P.E. teachers and soccer coaches eventually trickled in by 10am and we had a good group. I quickly found my groove videotaping and I learned the rhythm of the week.

Ismael,Osvaldo, Edan, and Evelio (Forgive the phontic spellings!) were four little urchins who by lunch time were climbing all over me. They really like cameras. These muchachos were irrestible.

On our way home around 3pm I again rode in the back of our pick up with Reid and with Jeremy. The landscape is flat, coastal, and I could easily scan the horizon left and right as it slipped away behind us. The rural landscape is a contradictory mix of clean homes and shacks. I couldn't believe that people live in a house and suddenly I would catch sight of a family of six happily loitering in the back yard. Children, dogs, and bicycles are everywhere. But as I scanned the landscape I saw an enormous mound, probably 40 feet tall, covered with trees and grass erupting from the flat fields of grass. I wanted to leap out of the truck, shovel in hand, and begin excavating the ruin.

This afternoon we are all rehydrating and re-mineralizing. Dinner, Belizean rice and beans hopefully, is at 6pm.

-AR

Day of Rest

2008-06-30T15:39:00.000-07:00

Sunday

6.29.2008

I slept hard, probably because the concrete room I am staying in has AC, and becomes a human refrigerator at night. It's wonderful. This morning I woke up before 7am and decided to explore Corozal Town. I still get that urge of exploration, common to all men or maybe just to teenage boys. First I exercised on the front porch and a cool wind licked up off the bay. Zac was awake by 8am and gave me a quick orientation around town. I set out walking and went to mass at St. Francis Xavier church in the town square. It is a beige and yellow 1970s creation, like a spaceship landed to rescue any surviving Mayan aliens. The service was lively, though, and I was quickly won over by the programmed synthesizer beats. How can you not feel happy singing, "I got that joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart (what?!) down in my heart, down in my heart!" The only other gringo was Father Brian, originally from Chicago, who was celebrating his first mass there after being in Colombia for 11 years.

I wandered the streets for a few more hours, found an open internet cafe, wrote the previous blog, and then found a great dive for lunch and to shield me from a sudden downpour. When I returned everybody was watching the Germany vs. Spain soccer match. I hid away and read more about Belize in my guidebook. I found out in my reading that less than one mile away stood the unmarked ruins of an ancient Mayan temple called Santa Rita. I borrowed the car and after one wrong turn I found it. My first Mayan temple! It was modest, to be sure, but I experienced that thrill of discovery, even though shacks, dogs, and children circled the site. It was a similar experience to my wanderings around Republican era Roman sites. It reminded me of gazing out the window at the aquaeduct ruins scattered near the Due Santi campus, in the Albano region south of Rome along the Via Appa Antica. I climbed to the top which afforded an excellent, panoramic view above the tree tops. I could see for miles. Santa Rita was founded shortly after the Trojan War, about 1000B.C. but this temple reached its pinnacle around 900A.D. Unfortunately, most of the stones had been cannibalized by the 1950s to build modern Corozal.

Shortly after returning home two great guys, Jeremy and Rhett showed up, and that night our entire group went to eat on the edge of the bay at a hotel restaurant.

-AR

Southbound

2008-06-29T09:52:00.000-07:00

Saturday
6.28.2008

Today does not make sense without reference to the previous two days. I'm in sync with the universe. For six months I had worried that I would miss the birth of my first nephew. After four days in Toronto at the 15th Annual International Boys School Conference (See link on the right side of the screen) I returned on Wednesday night. By 10am the next morning Amanda Keith was in labor and my beautiful nephew was born at 5:52pm. Friday I had the entire day to pack for Belize/Central America and that night Sarah and I got to have an unforgettable dinner together at Cafe Nonna. I was badly missing "baby Joseph" Friday afternoon, but I got to see him for two hours (I probably cradled him for an hour while he slept). See video links on the right.

This brings me to Saturday. The trip down to Belize was simple. In Dallas, Texas I had a two hour layover and rode the Skylink train around the entire airport twice. It was like the monorail at Disney World - lots of free fun. From the Skylink I could see Los Colinas skyscrapers overlapping a slender University of Dallas Tower, silhouetted against the white bulk of Texas Stadium, that in turn overlapped downtown Dallas about 10 miles away. So many seminal growing up experiences at UD seemed, simultaneously, close and far from my memory.

Most of the flight from Dallas to Belize City was shrouded in humid, low floating clouds. I had not been this studious since college and had diligently penetrated the forest of words in my lonely planet guidebook. Did you know, for instance, that 40% of Belize's land is protected in some way - that Belize practically invented eco-tourism - or, that the Caste Wars of the 1840s have everything to do with the great variety of ethnicities that colors the country? All of a sudden we burst through the bottom of the clouds and the white gave way to a vast expanse of vivid coastal green, pock marked with shimmering swamps.

Belize international airport does not deserve its name - it's the smallest airport I have ever been to I think. Surprisingly, or appropriately perhaps, I had met a Toronto couple on the plane ride who were headed for Ambergris Caye to close on their condo. Lucky them.

My first impression of the country was a collision of the senses. I felt the wind rush off the Caribbean, I felt the salt stick to my skin, I smelled that salty coastal dew, I saw the dark skin of the Afro-Caribs who dominate the Belize City population, I rejoiced at the sight of the brightly painted buildings and signs, and I heard the din of multiple languages. Suddenly, upon my arrival, all those words, those symbolic black and white abstractions, became instantly enfleshed, knit up by bones and blood and history. This man stamping my passport may have had ancestors who canvassed for votes which led to Belize's independence in 1981, who had ancestors who survived the brutal British suppresion of Mestizo resistance in the Caste Wars of the 1840s, whose ancestor intermarried with a British Mahogany logger in the 1750s, who had ancestors who worshipped with Spannish missionaries throughout the early 1600s, who had post-classic Mayan ancestors who witnessed the first bloody conquest of the Belizean Mayans in 1544, whose ancestors quarried stones to build the high-classic temple complex of Lamanai in 650AD at the height of the Mayan civilation. And so on . . . before memory.

Zac Hood picked me up at the airport. Cars sped down dusty roads past shacks and brightly painted dilapidated houses. A shocking number of people biked everywhere and many people walked these dangerous roads, often frighteningly bottle-necking. We rendezvoused with David, Georgia, and Clara. Clara took us to the Baboon (i.e. Howler Monkey) sanctuary. An old, strong, thin, dark, seemingly withered, bearded, man guided us into the sanctuary and the alpha male Howler Monkey answered his calls with deafening whoops.

Everywhere armies of Belize's most productive citizens, the leaf-cutter ants marched with huge photosynthetic loads on their backs. On the forest floor they had cut a dirt highway through the thick, dead-leaf cover. Clara treated us to Belikin Beer, locally brewed in Ladyville, which boasts a Mayan ruin on its label. David, Zac, and I sped north to Corozal Town, racing the setting sun and swerving around slower moving vehicles in the night. The stars were magnificent, even out of the car windows, and my readings came back to me - how, according to the account in the Popol Vuh, the three stars in Orion's belt are recreated in the arrangement of three Mayan temple around a central plaza, emodying the three mountains and hearths of the cosmos that sprang up from the watery void at the beginning of creation.

The internet cafe is closing up for lunch, I guess. More to come! And hopefully less wordy.

- Andrew

T-Minus 1 Day

2008-06-27T19:29:00.000-07:00

6.27.08

One year has past since I Czeched out! How am I going to stuff all these clothes and cameras into my bags? Good bye Eastern Europe, hello Central America!

“Huh? What is Andrew doing in Central America?” The short and sweet: My high school classmate, current colleague at MBA, and friend, Zac Hood, started a non-profit called Sports Servants three years ago. Sports Servants brings football (soccer) seminars coaches and to kids in poor villages in Belize every summer. I helped Zac edit Sports Servants’ first promotional video. He has finally persuaded me to come to Belize by bartering my video expertise for the trip. I will be with Sports Servants for two weeks, then will probably travel on my own, and will likely swing back through on my way home.