And so is the nature of the journey, that you have to move on.
As I prepared to leave Guatemala, I felt a great sadness as that particular part of my journey was coming to an end. It was harder as I was leaving the comfort of being part of a wonderfully diverse, kind and funny group of fellow travellers.
Perhaps symbolically, my left flip flop snapped on my final walk back to the hotel along the cobbled Antigua streets. I knew then that it was time to return to colder climes, reuniting with my trusty boots.
The pain of leaving my love affair with Latin America was somewhat eased by the anticipation of a love I'd dreamed about from afar for as long as I've known what inextricably enriches our lives.
Music.
Some of you may be aware of Austin's notoriety in the realms of music, film and general weirdness. Every year I watch with eagerness the goings on at SXSW music festival. I've dreamed about going many a time, but schedules as they are, I had to make do with a visit at non-festival time. (Fellow members of Cider In The Park I still hold out a flicker of hope that one day we'll be discovered on Sixth St).
Austin is not called the live music capital of the world for nothing.
Music pours from the doorways as you stroll along. My musical experience in Austin took this journey...
1) Lunch in a diner accompanied by a medley of Arctic Monkeys. A random taste of home.
2) A Russian drum / dance group performing at Austin's family New Year event.
3) A funky rock/blues group of brothers getting the crowd dancing in a field on a freezing New Year's Eve.
4) Watching a talented entrepreneur make cigar case guitars then showcase the different sounds they make.
5) Relived my 'yoof' by dancing like a maniac in a dark, crowded Drum n Bass club.
6) Rounded New Year's Eve off taking in the sounds of Prince in a Speakeasy establishment.
7) Eased in 2014 watching a busker in the SoCo district pouring emotion into a song about lost love leaving on a train.
8) Was entertained by a plethora of guitar and box players at a local open mic night.
9) Passed the time waiting for my flight listening to a country singer in the airport bar.
It may not have been quite the hectic experience of the festival life, but it will tide me over until my return one day.
And it's not just the music that will ensure my return. I had no idea how pretty the city is. A walk along the miles of riverside gave wonderful views of the city and the surrounding touches of nature. And the dogs! Man alive, I've never seen so many dog walkers and/or joggers in one place. Serious dog walking envy there.
It was a real treat to be in Austin. To experience a tiny fraction of the live music, to people and dog watch on a crisp, sunny winter's day and to browse the vintage shops that overlook the downtown area (bought a delight of a vintage dress that shall henceforth be known as 'my Austin dress').
Oh, and how could I almost forget. My eyes were treated to two cowboys on horses making their way through the downtown area. Only here. Keep Austin weird!
What a city. Austin, you can count on me seeing you again! Until then...
Tuesday 25 February 2014
Friday 14 February 2014
Messing around by the lake
From an active volcano, to a brood of dormant ones (is that the correct collective noun for volcanoes?).
Our journey took us West, via a network of various, colourful (in all senses of the word) chicken buses, to the incredibly beautiful Lake Atitlan.
As we navigated the winding road down towards the lake, we were offered an insight into the treasure awaiting us, through snatched glimpses behind trees or fences. Then we made it to our destination of a shaky old jetty on the shore of the lake at Panajachel just in time for sunset. We sat, drank, ate, mused and just watched as the sun and the clouds painted the most incredible, fiery shapes on this wonderful volcanic canvas.
The views I thought could get no better took a different perspective the following morning. Riding a wave jumping water taxi, we rounded a cove to a precariously positioned hotel staggered on the cliff face. There I ate the most delicious breakfast burrito the size of my head (I scoffed at the offer of ordering a half portion; all or nothing!). After a period of digestion and soaking up the sun, we dove into the 'refreshing' waters of Lake Atitlan.
A venture into the nearby village on the promise of local delicacy, frozen chocolate bananas almost proved fruitless (excuse the pun), but we paid a local gent to source them out for us. Wandering up and down dusty backstreets, I started to lose hope. Then we found the most humble looking shop that provided us with the most delicious treat. A simple half of banana, frozen and drizzled in chocolate. All for half a quetzal (4p!). So all the local kids who had followed us shared in the treat time. Wall's should investigate the gap in the UK market.
Back on the boat, we skimmed like a stone across the increasing waves to the village of Santiago. There we went searching for Maximon. He is the local deity. Slightly different to other Gods I have encountered; he is a petite, multi tie-wearing, heavy drinking, chain smoking effigy surrounded by taxidermy and shamans. Maybe it was all the incense, but I definitely came out from my visit to him a little light-headed. And it was certainly not a religious experience I'll forget in a while.
I only hoped he'd grant us safe passage as we headed back onto the choppy waters of the lake once again.
Our journey took us West, via a network of various, colourful (in all senses of the word) chicken buses, to the incredibly beautiful Lake Atitlan.
As we navigated the winding road down towards the lake, we were offered an insight into the treasure awaiting us, through snatched glimpses behind trees or fences. Then we made it to our destination of a shaky old jetty on the shore of the lake at Panajachel just in time for sunset. We sat, drank, ate, mused and just watched as the sun and the clouds painted the most incredible, fiery shapes on this wonderful volcanic canvas.
The views I thought could get no better took a different perspective the following morning. Riding a wave jumping water taxi, we rounded a cove to a precariously positioned hotel staggered on the cliff face. There I ate the most delicious breakfast burrito the size of my head (I scoffed at the offer of ordering a half portion; all or nothing!). After a period of digestion and soaking up the sun, we dove into the 'refreshing' waters of Lake Atitlan.
A venture into the nearby village on the promise of local delicacy, frozen chocolate bananas almost proved fruitless (excuse the pun), but we paid a local gent to source them out for us. Wandering up and down dusty backstreets, I started to lose hope. Then we found the most humble looking shop that provided us with the most delicious treat. A simple half of banana, frozen and drizzled in chocolate. All for half a quetzal (4p!). So all the local kids who had followed us shared in the treat time. Wall's should investigate the gap in the UK market.
Back on the boat, we skimmed like a stone across the increasing waves to the village of Santiago. There we went searching for Maximon. He is the local deity. Slightly different to other Gods I have encountered; he is a petite, multi tie-wearing, heavy drinking, chain smoking effigy surrounded by taxidermy and shamans. Maybe it was all the incense, but I definitely came out from my visit to him a little light-headed. And it was certainly not a religious experience I'll forget in a while.
I only hoped he'd grant us safe passage as we headed back onto the choppy waters of the lake once again.
Friday 7 February 2014
Pacaya picnic
What did you do last Christmas Day?
Make awkward small talk with the relatives you only see once a year? Feign interest in the newest method used to roast the potatoes? Fall asleep in front of the endless Christmas specials on the telly?
I took a break from this usual ritual to spend my Christmas Day doing something I'm not likely to ever do again.
Pacaya is an active volcano close to Antigua, Guatemala. Geared up in walking boots and Santa hats we set about scaling the ash covered beast.
At our start point we were bombarded by small children introducing themselves, and offering to rent us large staffs to use to help us with the climb. Most of our group took the independent route. But I'm not too proud; I'll take all the help I can get. So I spent the best 5 quetzals of my trip. I tested out two staffs and plumped for the one being sold by a polite young man.
And boy was I glad of that stick. Not just for the fact that I could pretend to be Gandalf on the mountain (don't worry I got my money's worth out of that photo opportunity). But within one minute of starting our journey the path turned practically vertical. I loved that staff as I made my way up the slope closely followed by the emergency cowboy and horse (in case anyone needed a helping hoof!).
Unaided, we all made it to the highest point we could reach. The planned toasting of marshmallows had to be shelved as the volcano was particularly active in our planned route. Instead we had to make do with a blustery picnic on the volcanic slopes.
It was possibly the best picnic of my life. Hunkering down by a ridge grabbing a slice of bread, slopping on refried beans, avocado, cheese and salsa, and then wedging it together with another slice. Maybe the exertion had given me a healthy appetite, but it was perfection. Eating that whilst listening to the rumbling eruptions was a Christmas lunch I'm not likely to forget in a hurry.
We soon worked off our lunch by running/ sliding down the loose ash covered side towards home. Much easier going down than up. And much more fun. Just don't ask about all the ash I kept finding as I emptied my boots, and even for days after!
Make awkward small talk with the relatives you only see once a year? Feign interest in the newest method used to roast the potatoes? Fall asleep in front of the endless Christmas specials on the telly?
I took a break from this usual ritual to spend my Christmas Day doing something I'm not likely to ever do again.
Pacaya is an active volcano close to Antigua, Guatemala. Geared up in walking boots and Santa hats we set about scaling the ash covered beast.
At our start point we were bombarded by small children introducing themselves, and offering to rent us large staffs to use to help us with the climb. Most of our group took the independent route. But I'm not too proud; I'll take all the help I can get. So I spent the best 5 quetzals of my trip. I tested out two staffs and plumped for the one being sold by a polite young man.
And boy was I glad of that stick. Not just for the fact that I could pretend to be Gandalf on the mountain (don't worry I got my money's worth out of that photo opportunity). But within one minute of starting our journey the path turned practically vertical. I loved that staff as I made my way up the slope closely followed by the emergency cowboy and horse (in case anyone needed a helping hoof!).
Unaided, we all made it to the highest point we could reach. The planned toasting of marshmallows had to be shelved as the volcano was particularly active in our planned route. Instead we had to make do with a blustery picnic on the volcanic slopes.
It was possibly the best picnic of my life. Hunkering down by a ridge grabbing a slice of bread, slopping on refried beans, avocado, cheese and salsa, and then wedging it together with another slice. Maybe the exertion had given me a healthy appetite, but it was perfection. Eating that whilst listening to the rumbling eruptions was a Christmas lunch I'm not likely to forget in a hurry.
We soon worked off our lunch by running/ sliding down the loose ash covered side towards home. Much easier going down than up. And much more fun. Just don't ask about all the ash I kept finding as I emptied my boots, and even for days after!
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