Mas Guatemala!

I distincly remember that bus ride from Guatemala City to Flores. Up to that point, the city was all I knew, and even though I knew the place was holding out on me, I had no idea. I was enthralled, I was enraptured, I was in love before I even knew the place's last name. The countryside was mountainous and green. So blasted green! Being from the desert, I have a deep reverence for anyplace so wet and vitally alive.



We stopped for lunch at this little gas station/restaurant. I was on this journey alone, but I felt completely fulfilled. Stepping off the bus around 2 in the afternoon after being on the bus since 9 that morning was amazing. The balmy air hit me in a burst, and I just couldn't keep a smile off of my face. Even though we were at a gas station (surely not glamorous), it was a fairly isolated one, the trees grew right up to the edge opposite the road. "This is it," I thought, "I'm getting to where I want to be."







I walk towards the bathroom and have my first, and only, experience with public toilets that require payment. Only 1 quetzal, but still. I was trying to be thrifty on this trip. However, the bathroom attendant lady (administrative restroom professional?...) was very nice. I think so anyway, since she didn't speak English and my Spanish, strangely enough, still sucked. I then went the little restaurant there, walled in on two sides only and completely absorbing. The weather was cooperating that day, though, it might not have been as charming when the sun was beating down in extreme mid-day heat. I have no idea what I ate, but it was delicious. This was also my first, though definitely not last, with the corn tortilla/s. They were to be one of my constant companions on my entire trip, luckily enough.







After lunch, the bus ride passed in a blur. We got held up when crossing into Petén, and I'm still not even sure why. The guards were looking in the luggage holder for a while, but then it turned into us waiting for someone to bring something to fix something on the engine of the bus. I think. After this, I was only ready to get to Flores, my next stop. I was planning on the bus making it by mid-afternoon, but it was dark well before we were near Flores. By this time, I was getting tired and crampy, and a bit uptight about my next move. I was planning on playing it mostly by ear, I had a phone number to call in San Andrés (where I was going to volunteer and stay) but I felt it was too late. All I wanted was a safe, comfy bed. And, of course, since it was only my second night away, I was feeling homesick for my boys already in a very achy way.





As soon as the bus stopped, I was thinking only of wanting a taxi. Luckily, about a dozen guys were standing around offering their taxis for the road-weary. I grabbed my bag and the first taxi driver I saw. I hopped in his little white car. I was far from feeling adventurous now, so I gave him the name of a fairly touristy looking hotel that I had seen in my guidebook. "Si, si," he said, he knew the place. I don't remember this dudes name, but his friendliness and helpfulness were a godsend at that point. We find the hotel, and I find out it's ridiculously overpriced and so ridiculously bourgeois that I couldn't stomach it, no matter my state of mind. Nice taxi driver tells me he knows a place. I place my fate in his hands (luckily for me) and we head into Flores proper, an island on Lago Petén Itza connected to the mainland by a bridge. It was a lake I would come to know very well over the following weeks.

Here's a map of Santa Elena/Flores in Petén

My driver takes me to a small hotel on the shore (most of the town is on the shore...), someone he knows and probably gets money from for sending clueless travelers their way. I get a small room with a bed, t.v., A/C, and bathroom with a shower and hot water. Luxury, for sure, and only about $15, definitely my priciest stay of the trip, which I gladly paid. I locked the door behind me. I just didn't have it in me at this point to dredge up enough curiosity to do anything more. I could feel homesickness and sadness setting in; it's a pattern, I get crazy homesick/sad/depressed the first 3 nights I travel alone. So I knew I'd get over in a couple of nights and just let it come, but I tried (kinda unsuccessfully) not to let it drag me down. I take a hot shower with a very strange contraption indeed (pictures next time), put on some comfy clothes, tried to write in my journal (the short entry for that day talks of nothing but my despair that nite...), then turned on the air conditioner and tv, watched Pride and Prejudice and had a good cry, then went to sleep. Maybe my brain would start wrapping around this in sleep.

Next up: Welcome, Krysten! Here, shovel that dirt!

I Have a Problem

I cannot get off the damn Myspace forums! I can't stop. I mean, sure, part of it is engaging in interesting converstions with like-minded people, but most of it is verbally bitch slapping ignorant people on the News&Politics forum. Crap. I should be above it and know better, but I get drawn in. Of course, all the enjoyment wears off after a while when they have no comeback other than to call you a 'dope smoker', but still, I continue. *sigh*

Politics As Usual....Surprise!

While I am always prepared for news of a lot of talk and absolutely no action (or more accurately, the worst possible action) from most governments, it still just pisses me off. In this Amnesty International article, more proof that for all of their jaw flapping, these politicians really don't give a flying fuck. Don't get me wrong, I like Obama. I do. And I'm not expecting miracles from one man, I never was. But when I read that the indigenous leaders of Latin America were told that there would be no venue for them in Trinidad and Tobago (where the Summit of the Americas was recently held), I about wanted to spit. Blah blah blah! How can we make more money, guys? Cuz I don't give a flip about those pesky natives...Argh!

And how 'bout that Cuban embargo, eh? Obama says he wants to use it as an incentive for Cuba's leaders to get a move on in the human rights department, among other things. Yeah, cuz it's worked so well for the past 40 years, right? And because human rights was such an important issue that is was brought up and discussed at the Summit of the Americas, right? You have to be shitting me. I mean, yes, Cuba's leaders have a lot to answer for. Come on, the idealism that started the Cuban revolution has sizzled and burned down to a hard turd. Don't get me wrong, probably most of those that engaged in the revolution were doing it with pure intentions, and Che was one of those, but no one can tell me that Fidel Castro is not as much a politician as any republican in the U.S. Sure, a communist (though he was a bit shady about that, too, wasn't he?), but still a bleeding politician. When has hurting the people of a country in order to get their government to do the right thing ever been a sound solution? Huh? Yeah, that's what I thought.....

Viva la revolucion!!

That's my man, yo!

This past weekend, I went to Las Cruces, and it will go down in the books as one of the best weekends ever, and one of the biggest regrets of my life ever (ok, that last one may be a bit melodramatic, but you'll see......)

A few weeks ago, I discovered that Immortal Technique, my most favorite revolutionary hip-hop artist in the world ever, was going to be having a free concert in Las Cruces (my future home, no less!). Fuck yeah!! Before I talk about my weekend, let me tell you about Tech, or at least my interpretation of him since that's all I really know. I have a deep respect for this guy, his work and his music are something that I can really relate to, that I understand and love. He knows the injustices and the most ridiculous aspects of this world and its systems and raps about them. Some of it is angry, but if some of this shit doesn't make you angry, then you really must not give a shit (thanks, Ani!). I am instantly drawn to anyone who expresses their dissent of the institutions, especially in this country. I'm probably more radical (much more radical) than most of my friends, with the exception of Talia. I don't think our capitalist system and our falsely labeled democratic government can be fixed. I think it's going to have to burn to the ground and we're going to have to start over (literally or metaphorically, either will work). If I were to label myself, I would be closest to an anarchist, I think, though I'm not too worried about what to call myself. I don't believe people need to be policed and told what do in order to be decent people. I do believe in community and cooperation. I believe that this world is fucked up from the basement to the attic and everywhere in between and that most people don't know and /or don't care. But I also appreciate life and find the beauty and love everywhere I can and just soak it up. I'm happy, but I'm also angry at injustice and apathy. I don't like violence as a general principle and I think that things can and should be resolved peacefully if at all possible. However, I think there are circumstances that will require us to fight for the things that we know are right and just in this world; that sometimes, we must fight oppression in every way that we know how. With all of that said, Immortal Technique is just about my favorite artist right now. I know and love his music, and I was freaking pumped to go see him in concert.

So, back to this weekend, from the beginning. Talia and I left at 6:00 in the morning, because I thought the show was supposed to start around noon (turns out, it wasn't till 9:00 that night, but the day was so wonderful, I'm glad we left early). T and I have been friends since kindergarten, she's my best friend in the world, and I love her and all of her ridiculousness. Anytime I take a roadtrip with her, we have the best damn time. We talked about any and everything, and laughed our asses off.

Once in Cruces, we met up with T's cousin Sam and his girlfriends Sarah. And what ensued was the most perfect day. We were at the park for a few hours for an Earth Day celebration, saw my gal Niki, the best little ray of sunshine ever. We listened to some drums, some bluegrass music, and rolled around in the grass on this fantastic, warm day. Afterwards, we went to Mesilla and drank some mojitos out on a patio and listened to live music, Latin music, a woman with a fantastic voice.

Then! Oh yes, then! We went to the campus to see the concert. We got there a bit early, watched an emcee battle (kinda wack, I probably could've done better than most of those dudes..:) ) So there I was, standing near the front of the stage, when T runs up out of nowhere "I just met Immortal Technique! Come on!" I was like, "Yeah, right bitch, leave me alone, I have a good spot!" "No I'm seriouss! Let's go", she said and started dragging me to the side. I finally paid attention to her and realized she was fairly sizzling with excitement. I kinda felt my insides turn into jell-o as I followed her to the side of the stage. Oh....shit....man..... There was a merch table with 2 guys by it, one in a camo jacket and hat. I don't think anyone there realized who he was, really. Oh shit. I looked at T. "Really? Are you sure? Is that him??" I ask. "Yes!!"

I almost turned right around and said, "No! I don't want to go over there!" Looking back, there was probably some starstruckness going on, and I realized it, and I didn't want him to think I was wack and groupie-like. In a nutshell, I froze. We walked up to the table and he looked up. I smiled, shook his hand. "Hi, I'm Krysten," I said. I can't remember what he said. Hi? How's it goin'? I really have no idea. I made eye contact then looked away to the table with his CD's and some shirts on it. And that was it. I couldn't talk to him! What?!?! I know, I know, trust me, I know. I had about a million things to say, a thousand conversations to start. But how do you communicate your nature to someone whose nature (or at least a part of it) you already know? I guess what it came down to was that I didn't want to look like a fool in front of someone that I've admired from a distance. Lame, I know. What the hell happened to my balls, man? They left me at a critical moment.

And that was it. My interaction with him. Oh, I mean the concert rocked my world, I went hoarse from yelling and I was throwing my fist up in the air. He was an amazing performer, and I was impressed with the way he carried himself. People ended up on stage after ignoring the ropes (me and Talia included!), and he just kept on. Bad flippin' ass man, I'm not kidding. The show rocked.

He had nice hands. Soft.

Part 4 of A Guatemala Story

When last we left off, I had just spent my first night in Guatemala. Thus began my adventure to find a bus to Flores. Before I left home, I spent literally hours poring over my Guatemala Moon guidebook, and I had felt fairly confident about getting around when I was leaving the US of A. However. Being in Guatemala in reality was different than being in Guatemala figuratively. I asked my guy in the office if he could call a taxi for me so I could get to the bus station. He comlied, and let me just say, kudos to him, it must be a fairly frustrating job to deal with turistas on a regular basis who just suck at Spanish. So, I sit in the sitting area (fittingly enough...), reading Walden until my taxi comes. With the hostel guy acting as intermediary, it's established that I need to get to a bus station. "Si!", I add helpfully, "autobus!" (It is a testament to their kindness that neither of them rolled their eyes.....)

So I said goodbye to Hostel Los Volcanes.....

The rooftop patio outside my room











The inner courtyard at Hostal Los Volacanes



The taxi ride to the bus station was uneventful, but in a good way. Guatemala city was just as I expected it to be. No, no, rather, it was familiar in a way that your hometown is familiar. Everything fit, felt right to me. The city seemed huge. It's actually the largest city in Central America, I believe. The roads wound round and round. I couldn't have found my way back if I had to. I was wrapped up in looking at everything I possibly could, even the asinine and ridiculous, like the KFC I saw.



We reach the bus station. I pay the taxi, take my bag, and gather my bearings. Kind of. The station is a building that does not lend itself to bus stations. Homeless are sleeping on the sidewalks. The station and bus yard take up about a quarter of a block (not a city block...). I drag my bag towards the tiny door, through a group of people who regard me with eyes that I cannot fathom. People are everywhere. For a moment, I feel lost. Like this place is something I will never, could never, understand. Once inside the station, I walk straight to the woman behind the glass at the counter. I need a bus ticket. I can do this. I understand this. "Speak English?" I ask in Spanish. Her face is inscrutable, she shakes her head. This woman has no compassion for me, who she does not know. "I need go Flores?" I try. She nods, starts speaking. She writes down the time the bus leaves, the cost of the ride. I feel myself exhale and relief floods my body. I gather some courage from the situation. I pay my US$22 for the 8 hour ride and go and sit in the fairly spacious waiting room. I have an hour to kill and Walden is not going to fill me right now. So I sit and observe and try to relax.



People, men, women, and children, stick their heads in the door every so often with something to sell. Sunglasses, candy, belts, newspapers. That and more they are peddling. Ocassionally someone will buy something, a candy for the patiently waiting 2 year old.



I wonder where these people are going, what their story is, but I'm too shy, too unsure of my meager Spanish, to strike up a conversation. Next time, I will know better.



Finally, it's time to get on the bus. I drag my bag out to the waiting bus (there are two and I find the right one). As the bus drags out of the tiny yard into the tiny street, I smile. My journey continues. The bus ride is punctuated by frequent stops. We pick up some people, drop off some people here and there. At every stop, women and occassionally men board with food and drinks to sale. At some stops, people get off and return with plates of deliciousness. I buy a plastic baggie filled with fresh mango slices, with a wedge of lime in it. As the bus rattles along, I sit back and wallow in the juiciness of fresh mangoes and the overwhelming countryside.

Up next: Getting in Late, Homesick?!?!, and The Lake

I got my graduation present from my Nanny and Papa today, a laptop! Woo! This is my first one (yeah, I know, I'm a little behind the times....) so double the excitement, man! It's a refurbished Dell, it seems like it'll be good, decent memory and speed. I'm mainly excited that now I have my own computer to download music to and, ergo, my iPod. New running music! I'm pumped!

Speaking of running, I've been such a lazy slacker. Ugh! However, I'm getting back on track. I'm running 1.5 miles easily in about 18 minutes. Not something marvelous, but decent, I think. I'm about to up it to 2 miles.

I was just looking at some old photos of my trip to Dominica and I got so......flippin'.........melancholy. Oh man oh man! The feelings I get when I look at old pictures of wonderful, amazing, life-changing experiences just about keel me over and kill me in the best possible way ever. :) Here's one, and do I ever miss these gals!

On a bit of a sad note, I think travel is out this summer. Kinda kills me, but what can ya do? I'll be moving, most likely, which is a good/fantastic thing, I know. But I've been out of the country the past two summers, and having to stay put and keep my travelin' boots locked up breaks my heart a bit. Aye, mi.......

An Extra Day

So, my little E has a sore throat today, which means I get one extra day of spring break. Good, for an extra day, bad, for having to put off seeing my gal J. I think I'll try and get everything caught up and under control. I still have some reading to do for my English class, I'm in the midle of a Jack Kerouac that needs reading by tomorrow, so I'll probably delve into that.

It's almost graduation time! Yay! Even though I'm a bit tense about my next step, the fact that I'm about to graduate with my bachelor's degree pumps me up. :) Seeing as how I never got around to graduating high school (GED, baby...), it's even a bit more exciting for me than normal. 6 weeks! Begin the countdown...

Grad School Worries

I'm completely pumped to be going to grad school in Las Cruces this fall. However, I'm totally at loss as to how I'm going to pay for...well, anything, really. Tuition, rent, bills, kids...achk!! I didn't get an assistantship (not that I was banking on it, my undergrad degree is wildlife and I'm going into Anthro now, and aside from that, my transcripts suck hard core), and I now find out that I'm nearing my "aggregate loan limit" for student loans. Crap! I'm already in debt over my head 10 times over because of student loans, so I figured, what's two more years of accruing humongous amounts of debt? Right? Besides, in some small corner of my mind, there is a part of me that is wishfully thinking that the thing that's supposed to go down in 2012 will adversely affect the computer systems that my loan history is on. (Hey, a girl can hope!). However, apparently that may not be possible. So on to plan B....wait, I never had a plan B! Shit!
I have spent some time looking around the net at grants and whatnot (for some reason, I didn't think to think of this sooner...lovely), and, of course, most of the deadlines are far gone. Ugh. I'm not really sure why I let myself get into these situations.
However, I did find a NSF grant for a master's thesis combining the effects and affects of the interactions between human and natural processes. It's for a measly 500,000 to 1 million (no shit).....like I said, a gal can always hope.

I'm stressed about this, but not too stressed (yet) as I haven't talked to a financial aid advisor. I'll save the full-on panic and tears mode for after.