Reflections: January 2018

For the first time in ages, we woke up New Years Day with clear heads. We’d spent the evening reflecting on all that we’d done in 2017, and excitement pulsed through us as we set our eyes on the new year. We didn’t know much about what awaited us, but we did know that we had to leave Chicxulub that afternoon to make it to Playa del Carmen. We were starting our open water dive certifications the next day.

Though most people probably find themselves in Playa del Carmen at Coco Bongo’s during spring break, we had a different agenda planned. After seeing people dive between the continental plates in Iceland years before, we were determined to learn to dive. And if we were going to get our certification, we wanted to do it towards the beginning of our journey so we could dive in other sites along the way. When we arrived in Playa del Carmen, we checked into our hostel and tucked into bed. We had to be at the dive shop early the next morning.

The first day of our course was spent watching a five-hour movie on the 1,000 ways to die while diving. Half way through the video, we paused for lunch and grabbed the best tortas we’ve ever had next door (if you’re in Playa del Carmen, make sure to stop by Tortas del Carmen on Avenida 15). Rebecca, who had originally initiated the push to learn to dive, suddenly had cold feet. The thought of exploding lungs and bursting ear drums had her reconsidering this whole idea. Then a family with two children no older than 13 walked in, all off to go diving with bull sharks that afternoon. If two kids could do it, so could we, we reasoned. When the video was over, we pulled on our wet suits and headed to the pool. Our first submersion would be confined, but very cold.

We studied that night and prepared for our first written exam and open water dives. At the end of each chapter, we’d test each other. It was like college all over again, as we curled up in bed next to each other, asking one another trick questions. We passed every chapter review easily, but neither of us seemed to be clear about when to inflate or deflate our buoyancy control device. After a few minutes of discussion, we both reckoned that our BCDs were like an elevator — deflate to go down, inflate to go up. Simple, right?

Except when we asked our instructor the next morning on our way to our first dive site, she corrected us with alarm by reminding us that air expands as you rise. If we used our approach and inflated our BCDs to ascend, we’d shoot to the surface, potentially at a dangerous rate. Ah, good thing we clarified that question.

Our first breaths underwater were unforgettable. Suspended in neutral buoyancy, listening to the whoosh of oxygen leave our regulators, examining corals of all shapes and colors, we felt like we were in space. All fear we’d had the day before was gone. We were hooked. After three days and four dives, we had our open water certifications.

We celebrated the completion of the course and enjoyed our last afternoon along turquoise waters for the foreseeable future. The next day we were headed back to Chiapas to visit the ruins of Palenque and the cascades of Agua Azul.

To be closer to the ruins, we stayed at El Panchan, what could be best described as a hippy village in the jungle. A collection of forts were built on wooden platforms in the trees, some looking to be more stable than others. After checking out our options, we settled on a screened in room in a tree at Jungle Palace. The next morning, howler monkeys woke us.

Our first day in Palenque, we took a combi to the turquoise pools of Agua Azul. We hiked up the trail along the staircase of waterfalls, enjoying the sound of rushing water. Eventually, we worked up the courage to take a dip in the cold pools.

Some of the pools of waterfalls at Agua Azul

The next morning, we threw some snacks, water, and camera in our day pack and headed toward the ruins of Palenque. Feeling a little rushed to pack up our room, visit the ruins, and get to the bus station, it looked like our original plan of leaving that night to San Cristóbal de las Casas wouldn’t work out. So we decided to take our time at the ruins and leave the next morning.

Palenque is a unique site. Unlike the massive pyramids that sit along the wide avenue at Teotihuacán and the fortress of temples at Monte Albán in Oaxaca, the ruins at Palenque are almost hidden, consumed by the jungle. At first sight, it’s hard to assess just how big the place is. Dense foliage covers many of the temples and huge vines entangle the space. Nature has reclaimed this once sprawling civilization.

The Palace Observation Tower at Palenque

The jungle that surrounds the ruins of Palenque

The next day we were back on a bus, and thankfully this one was a tad warmer than the last one. We were back in San Cristóbal de las Casas and it felt like coming home — we had spent Thanksgiving and the better part of December there. As we searched for a hostel bed for the night and booked our bus to Guatemala for the next morning, we talked about all our favorite places we were going to eat that evening. But just as we felt relaxed in this familiar and beloved town of ours, we also became overwhelmed with exhaustion and stress. We hadn’t even been through the first week of January but had already been in four different places and on three different buses. The next day, we’d be heading to Guatemala. We were used to spending at least a month in one place, and this pace was pushing our sanity. We were snapping at each other while trying to make decisions. Eventually we stopped, hugged each other, and let out a sigh. We told one another that we would try not to travel this fast ever again. Some people can do the flash backpacking thing, but we quickly found out it just isn’t for us.

The next morning we set off for Lake Atitlán in Guatemala. This would be the first of many land border crossings on this journey, and we were a little nervous. Would Guatemalan immigration officials ask for proof of onward travel? How easy would it be to exchange pesos for quetzales at the border? As we found out, Latin American borders are laid back, if sometimes confusing, to navigate, but generally are very easy to get across. Once in Guatemala, we piled into a bus that drove down a bustling street of vendors and then turned down one of the steepest hills we’ve ever seen. The bus rocked and rolled down the hill at a nerve-wrecking speed. We crossed our fingers that the brakes were in better condition than the road. We’d made it to Guatemala.

Just after getting our entry stamps into Guatemala

It took us nearly nine hours to make it the 138 miles from the border to Panajachel, our first stop in Guatemala. Brad, our dear friend from home who visited us to ring in the new year in Mexico, had put us in contact with two good friends of his who live in Panajachel. Without ever having met us, Dan and Eliza welcomed us to stay with them during our time on Lake Atitlán. The opportunity to feel at home, have local people show us around town, and learn about this place that they’ve come to call home is something we are so grateful for.

As we drove down the winding mountain from Sololá to Panajachel, we decided to call Dan and Eliza and let them know we were about to arrive. A local on our bus let us borrow his phone. We dialed the number Dan and Eliza had sent us. On the other end of the phone, a woman’s voice recording in Spanish notified us that we were dialing a non-existent number. We tried again with the same response. We looked at each other a little worried. It was 9 pm and the only directions we had to their house was, “House across from the cemetery.” The bus dropped us off and we flagged down a tuk tuk. He drove us across the bridge, outside of town, to the cemetery. We grabbed our bags and the tuk tuk putted away into the dark. We approached the house across from the cemetery and knocked on the metal door. A Guatemalan woman slid the window open, surprised to see visitors at this hour. We asked if she knew Dan and Eliza. No, she said, she didn’t know anyone by that name. Shit, we thought. We’re going to have to spent the night in the cemetery.

Just then, she seemed to remember that her neighbors were named Dan and Eliza, a realization we were grateful for. We walked next door and tried the door. Dan came to the gate and greeted us with a big smile. We were at the right place and would thankfully get to sleep in a warm bed.

While most backpackers arrive in Panajachel and head immediately for the docks to other towns around the lake, we were glad to have weeks in the busy little town. For the first time in ages, we had a huge book selection of titles to choose from Dan and Eliza’s library. We got to cook delicious meals with our hosts and talk about our day together. They filled us in on all the Pana drama happening around town and at the school they both worked at. We felt at home and in great company.

Lunch in Santa Cruz with our hosts, Eliza, Dan, and Maria

At one point during our stay at the lake, a couple of friends we had made during a cooking class in Oaxaca, Mexico were in town. After a few hours of chatting and catching up, we found ourselves at a tiki bar that advertised Q5 ($0.70) shots of something called “gusha.” We asked the bartender what this substance was. She looked at us quizzically and grabbed an unlabeled milk jug from under the counter filled with a murky liquid. We asked what it was made of and how strong it was. She shrugged and said “herbs? maybe 70 percent?” And before we knew it four shots of gusha sat in front of us. Be warned: we later read online that this Guatemalan moonshine has been known to cause blindness — and will most definitely cause a hangover.

The next day we took it easy and visited the Panajachel nature reserve to hike and hopefully see some coatis.

Beautiful butterflies in the butterfly dome

Walking across one of the many suspension bridges in the nature preserve

Just outside the center of town is a nature preserve full of trails, zip lines, and a pack of coatis, a relative of the raccoon. We started hiking and soon came upon a deck where people were feeding bananas to a dozen or so of these ravenous beasts. Eager to have our chance to feed them, we bought a few bananas from the front desk and returned. As soon as we split open a banana, they swarmed us. Rebecca tore off pieces and threw it on the ground to the squealing crowd. Suddenly, one climbed up her leg and began biting for more. It was a coati mauling. Only after the attack did we bother to read the placard on the deck that stated there was a pack of wild coatis in the park that could be vicious. Rebecca spent the rest of the night googling rabies.

One weekend later, Eliza invited us to La Asociación Maya de Desarrollo, an indigenous women’s weaving cooperative that she partners with. The weaving cooperative was one of the most memorable places we visited in Lake Atitlán. Started in 1987, it’s been a vital opportunity to lift up indigenous women socially and economically within their communities. The hand-dyed fabric is woven using the traditional back-strap loom, helping to preserve the weaving techniques that have been used in the region for centuries. The results are impeccably woven scarves, shawls, ponchos, and bags in every imaginable color combination.

Women prepare bundles of thread ready for weaving

Another one of our favorite parts about staying in Panajachel were the sunsets. Other towns around the lake don’t get the vistas you get from Pana, and we made it a nightly routine to walk along the water, sit on the dock, or head up to the rooftop to watch the sky melt into pinks, oranges, and purples as the sun dipped behind the row of volcanoes across the lake.

One night, we decided to grab some beers and hop on a boat that was blasting reggaeton and about to pull away from the dock. Everyone had a drink in hand, and the booze cruise paddled along the coast as the sun set.

Before we left Lake Atitlán, we knew we needed to go to the Sunday market in Chichicastenango. We’d fallen in love with Guatemalan textiles, and this market was world famous. Maria, a master weaver at the women’s weaving cooperative and dear friend of Dan and Eliza, offered to guide us around the market. We navigated between row after row of table runners, shawls, pants, and anything else that could be woven. With the touch of her fingers, Maria could tell what materials and which method was used to make the items. Despite many vendors telling us things were handmade, Maria skillfully sorted through the stuff that was made in China and what was actual artisan work.

Fabric at the market in Chichicastenango

On one of our last days in Pana, we ventured across the lake to the hippy town of San Pedro. Backpackers in loose printed pants and dreadlocks sipped coffee at the many lakefront artisan coffee shops. We headed for a boathouse and rented two kayaks for the morning. Warned that the waves were strong beyond the bay, we paddled in circles for a couple of hours and watched people jump from a ledge of a hostel onto a giant floating trampoline. Once back on shore, we went to the thermal baths and arranged a soak in the concrete pools along the lake. We grabbed a delicious falafel wrap (the first Mediterranean food we’d had in ages) and a few beers and returned as instructed an hour later when our piping hot bath was ready for us.

Views from the thermal tubs in San Pedro

After our initial scramble between buses and hostels in our first few days of the month, it felt so good to post up and relax in Lake Atitlán for almost three weeks. We were back in our travel rhythm. We were eating regular meals, most of which were healthy (but damn will we never forget the epic Pollo Campero feast we had one afternoon). We had a room to hang up our clothes, and we could leave our shampoo in the shower again. We knew the vendors at the market and could navigate our way around town with ease. So of course, it was time to pack up and hit the road again. Antigua was our next stop.

A tuk tuk passes a chicken bus in Panajachel

Our first long-distance chicken bus ride in Guatemala was an experience for sure. We crossed our fingers that our bags would stay on the roof, but the real gem was the moment a police officer carrying a shot gun boarded the bus and sat just behind the driver. We had no idea what the road ahead had in store for us, but we were excited.

Rebecca matching Antigua’s terracotta walls

Antigua was as charming as everyone had made it out to be. Crumbling facades in beautiful shades of terracotta, yellow ochre, and crimson lined the cobblestone streets. In every direction, volcanoes loom on the horizon. We were giddy to have a couple of weeks to sip delicious coffee in hip cafés, read books next to the fountain in the Parque Central, and enjoy cocktails on rooftop bars. But one thing was at the top of our list: climb a volcano.

Guatemala has some of the most majestic volcanoes in the world, an impressive 37 in the tiny country. Just outside of Antigua lies Volcán Fuego, a volcano with almost constant low-level activity. One of the most popular adventures to do from Antigua is to hike up and camp on Fuego’s neighboring volcano, Volcán Acatenango. When we read about it, we were all in. After monitoring the mountain forecast, we decided that the last day of the month was our best shot for no rain and clear skies. Plus we hoped that the luck of the super blue moon eclipse would lend us some luck and deliver a volcanic eruption.

As we were about to leave the hostel to head off to Acatenango, a group of hikers walked in. “Don’t do it. It was awful! We made an emergency decent at 5 am in hail and we didn’t see any lava,” we were warned. But there was no turning back. We hopped in the van and off we went.

Ascending Acatenango was a grueling 5 hour hike. Between the altitude, the incline, and the volcanic sand that slide from under our feet with each step, it was a difficult climb. Pushing higher and higher into the fog, we hoped the skies would eventually clear. As we approached base camp, the clouds parted and we heard a growl in the distance. We saw tiny specks of lava sparking from the top of the volcano. Fuego was greeting us.

Seeing the first bit of lava from Fuego. Little did we know what was in store for us!

The campfire in front of an erupting Volcán Fuego

We arrived at camp and were rewarded with one of the most spectacular sunsets we’ve ever seen. We were above the clouds and the entire landscape was drenched in a soft orange. As the evening drew on, the noise from Fuego grew louder. Specks of lava turned into streams running down the sides of the volcano, which eventually became rivers. The ground rumbled, and it sounded like trains were crashing continuously. Fuego was erupting for the first time in 2018, and we were getting the full show. Our guide, Eddy, a local who’d been hiking Acatenango for more than a decade, told us it was one of the most incredible eruptions he’d ever seen. We stayed up all night watching the spectacle before us. It was a magical way to end January.

Stay tuned for February’s post to catch sunrise ; )