We just arrived in Flores a few minutes ago. Despite the fact that it's nighttime, on a lake, and with a small breeze, we're already drenched in sweat. Welcome to the Central American jungle!
Today was the first time this trip that we were able to sleep in. Biking on Friday, volcano climb on Saturday, another volcano on Sunday, biking on Monday, kayaking/hiking on Tuesday and rock climbing yesterday. Finally, a break.
Yesterday, we did more experiments with gravity.
When our guide Michael brought us out to the cliff and showed us what he called a good foothold, I had to blink twice to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. The little ledge looked wide enough for--at best--a chunky ant. Thus began our indoctrination in the gravity defying art of climbing walls that should otherwise best be scaled with the help of a crane.
I went first. I have to say, there's definitely something about being precariously wedged on a cliff face with your fingernails the only thing keeping you from falling backwards that really infuses one with an intense sense of focus and concentration.
As I climbed, I ended up in positions which normally should best be left to circus contortionists. I think the most memorable one was what Michael jokingly referred to as my Jean Claude Van Damme move, where I ended up spread-eagled between two opposing rock faces. Not a comfortable position to begin with, it's even more awkward to get out of, as your legs can provide no lift.
With gravity constantly daring you to fall off, it became necessary to resort to more advanced rock climbing moves. For example, finding a crack in the rock face, shoving your hand in sideways, and then twisting it down, thereby "locking" it in. Both Pascal and I have a number of cuts along our hands as a result. You can also do this with just a couple of fingers if the crack is small--sacrificing your body for the cause, if you will.
I think my favorite moment was when Pascal went up. Near the top, his entire body tense from the struggle to remain on the rock, his legs trembling from the stress and strain, emitted this primal scream "RAAAAAAAAAH!" and fell backwards off the rock.
Thankfully, he was wearing a harness, and I was on the ground belaying him and had good control of his rope. So instead of plummeting down to splatter on the rocks at my feet, he swung sideways on the rope, uttering more profanity than I've ever heard from him in the past 10 years, and slammed his back into another section of the cliff. Ouch!
Last night we moved from Antigua to Guatemala City for New Year's. While Guatemala is a gorgeous country, the same certainly can't be said for its capital. Perhaps it was because of the holiday celebrations, but some streets looked like they'd been bombed with trash-filled dumpsters.
All the windows have iron bars over them, most stores have armed guards, and even our odd hotel had a double set of locked doors: an outer door and an inner prison-cell type metal gate that opened by buzzer from the reception desk.
Speaking of our hotel, I think it'd be a great location for a horror movie. The Shining 2 comes to mind. The guy at the reception desk sitting below the old medieval swords mounted on the wood paneled wall behind him looked a little out there, and we didn't see a single other guest the entire time. With poor lighting, high ceilings and dark, old-style colonial architecture and creaking floors, it definitely had a Twilight Zone-ish kind of feel.
Climbing the large circular wooden staircase to get to our room upstairs, we were faced with a large, hallway progressing from partial dim lighting at the stairs to pitch black in the distance. Our room, halfway down, opened with one of those metal keys from the 11th century, and then only after a lot of creative lock wiggling. Turn on the light switch and...nothing. Then, about 4 or 5 seconds later, a flicker and buzz from the overhead fluorescent light feet above. Creepy.
Pascal's favorite was the bathroom. You enter facing the sink, and it's so narrow that you practically have to climb over the toilet to reach the shower (which, by the way, had a very loose interpretation of the idea of hot water). But Pascal's biggest peeve is that you have to sit on the toilet almost sidways, since there's virtually no room for your legs in front. Lots of grumbling on that one.
We went out for New Year's, and lucked out in finding one of the more popular and interesting dance clubs in the city. When New Year hit, this Guatemalan guy came over and gave Pascal a hug. It was a strategic mistake on his part, as he was wearing Pascal's fleece that he'd put down earlier on his chair.
Pascal went outside and confronted him, and he claimed he'd just been cold (yeah, right) and gave it back, along with the sunglasses that had been in my fleece. We let it go at that.
That little story aside, we had a great time. When we returned to our hotel in the wee hours of the morning, we stood outside in the deserted street and rang the doorbell. Nothing. Rang again. And again. Then wacked the door latch a number of times. Still nothing. Nervously eyeing the street, as Guatemala City is anything but safe, we went into continuous doorbell ringing mode. Finally, a groggy-eyed Guatemalan Quasimodo opened a small wood panel on the door to get a look at us before letting us in.
Mercifully, the one redeeming factor in this hotel is that the beds were unusually comfortable, and we slept blissfully until noon. This afternoon, we hightailed it out of Guatemala City on Taca Airlines to Flores for Chapter Two of our Guatemalan adventure.
Cheers!
Gabriel
