MY FAVORITE DAY...JERALD HEAD

     On the third day of our trip, we went on a tour of the villages of San Andres, and San Juan Chamula, in the state of Chiapas, Mexico. We were lucky to have Alex Aranda as our guide. I really did not see our group as one to follow behind a guide with a raised flag or umbrella, and fortunately this was not that kind of tour nor was Alex an average tour guide. He knew these people, their history, culture, and traditions. One of my goals on this trip was I wanted to learn, not just see, but learn. As Charlene said in my favorite sitcom, “Designing Women,” when asked about knowing so many random facts, “I love knowledge, Mary Joe, in fact I yearn for it.” These are some things I learned on my favorite day.

Our guide, Alex Aranda, showing samples of various corn types.

                                            

     I learned when we arrived in San Andres, what it feels like to be a stranger in a totally alien culture, and what it feels like to be regarded as “the other.” There was no way to hide, no way to blend in, and it felt extremely uncomfortable. However, I think it is a good thing to know how it feels to be perceived as “the other.”

The church at San Andres

     I learned to always wear a hat. My favorite day resulted in a major sun burn causing me to peel like a reptile for the remainder of a trip. Normally, I would have worn a hat, but I was certain my wide brimmed Panama would have made me conspicuous on our visit to the Mayan villages on market day. Perhaps if I had worn my majordomo hat I would have fit in and prevented a sun burn. Then again….

Sun-burned Jerald resplendent in his hat from Chiapas

     I learned that the Pentecostals and Seventh Day Adventists have a strange hold in the region as well as in Guatemala. But unlike Guatemala where the evangelicals have risen to become members of the governing elite, in Chiapas they have been cast out as “expulsados,” driven from the villages if they turn against the Mayan way. I know my way around evangelicals and have seen shunning first hand, but this is different. I continue to wonder about the appeal of these sects in this culture and what is it in these sects that make them more appealing to the Maya. I’m just saying, I didn’t see a bunch of Episcopal churches popping up in the area.

     I learned a new word, “syncretism”. I found it in a book about the Maya and the Catholic Church, and saw vivid demonstrations of the word that day in the two village churches. Religious syncretism is the melding or blending of two religious belief systems into one and what I saw that day in those churches was the unique and strange mix of the Mayan and Catholic faiths. I have found what I witnessed is difficult to describe without trivializing the experience. I do not want to reduce the experience to the death of a chicken. I saw so much more than that.

     I learned in the church at Chamula that there is a level of suffering and anguish that even after 20 years in medicine, is beyond my comprehension. I witnessed this in a man whose deep sobs literally racked his body. I could only bear a few seconds of this, partly because I felt like a voyeur, but mostly because I was so shaken by his suffering I had to leave his presence and the church as well. A better person may realize that by bearing witness to the suffering, one could honor the man, but I could not. I am haunted by this memory.

The church at San Juan Chamula

      I learned in a small mud brick home that certain things do transcend cultural and socioeconomic barriers. There is the hospitality of opening your home to strangers and offering them what food and drink you have. There is the pride that comes when your craft is appreciated. I also learned that children are children whatever the context. That they love to play, slide down a hill, crawl on the backs of trucks, and that there is one thing that they all respond to, desire, even dream about, that matters above everything else and that thing is CANDY.

Waiting for candy

Making blue corn tortillas on an open hearth. Delicious.

the travelers in the mayan house waiting for hot tortillas and beans.

Nanci decked out in a typical cape of the village

Kids hitching a ride.

     And finally, like the good Girl Scout I always wanted to be, I learned to “Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.”

     And these are the things I learned I learned on my favorite day.

Jerald Head

MEMORIES AND VISIONS: Embedding in Guatemala...NANCI YURONIS & SHEILA SHEEHAN

     Color, color and still more color.  No blah beiges, winey taupes, or endless off-whites.  Nope…the colors of Guatemala are far more serious, and visually they continually demand your attention.  Nothing, no place in our travels compares with the visual bombardment of color, pattern, and shape that populate row after row of tiny stalls in the alleyways of Chichicastenango’s huge weekly market.  If a visit to Guatemala isn’t already there, put it in your bucket right away.


     The colors, close to intimidating, challenge the observer to decipher individual objects from the blur.Approaching each stall, shapes begin to assume a definition that echoes the known.  Here in Guatemala, however, although a blanket is a blanket, a table runner is a table runner, and a tote bag is a tote bag…it is in shape only.  Guatemala’s merchandise dances, moves, entices, delights…everything is more than just what it  is.

     For newbies such as we were, the shopping was exciting and pretty much addictive.  We tried so hard to apply our personal ”travel purchases advisory”, namely…”I like it, but I do not want to own it.”   Who knew that I needed to own 4 huipiles (colorful handwoven and detail-embroidered tops worn by most of the Guatemalan people, particularly in the highlands), Sheila needed 3, Dar needed 25, and Lockwood needed a few, too.  We all succumbed to the fever…Cathy must have zillions of friends and relatives because she was always getting just one more item…a belt, a bracelet, a table runner…she actually became very adept at bargaining.  But then, she learned from Dar, the acclaimed pro. 

Robin engulfed in color at the market in Chichicastenango

     Robin tentatively picked up items, but then set them down again…sure that she would find a bigger, prettier, less costly version down the row a way.  Mostly, she enjoyed observing it all.  Pretty soon, the blur factor set in.  Cynthia spent an hour making friends with a vendor of woven belts…much time, back and forth chatter, and “walk-away” negotiation won her some fine purchases.  Lockwood loved it all, and she showed her love by buying it all.

      Truly, it was all so much fun, but soon it was time for a tequila break, and a breaking open of the bags, a showing and sharing, and a comparison of who bought what for what price.  Once the tequilas and the sangritas were ordered, the OOOOHS and AAAAHHS took over as we all marveled at the richly colorful and intricately designed goods we had just purchased.

     Although it may sound like all we did was shop, that we were blinded into consumer excess by the richness of color and texture of all of the goods we came upon…we actually did much, much more.  We stretched our legs and our minds, we laughed soooooo much, we enjoyed great camaraderie along with fine, fine food and drink, and, perhaps most importantly, we expanded our qualifications for world citizenship.    Thanks for the memories. 

The hats of the major-domos in the Chiapateco Highlands Mayan villages.

One of those shopping moments with Nancy Lockwood and Sheila. 

One of those tuk-tuk moments with Joe and David.

Explorers in plastic chairs on the prow of the boat taking us across the lake to San Marcos, San Juano and to Venaca for a late lunch. Left to right David, Duke, Joe

Nanci & Sheila – July 2011

RIPPLE EFFECT...DAVID MANNING

     There are so many memories from our Guatemalan vacation that are still vivid in my mind that it is difficult to step back and pick one to write about.  Instead of writing about what we did on the trip, I want to write about the essence of  Lake Atitlan, from my perspective.

      I believe what we experienced at Lake Atitlan has caused changes in several of us and maybe all of us.  Like the ripples on that beautiful lake, the ripple effect of feelings from the trip has continued in my life.

     Let me just get it out that Lake Atitlan is THE most beautiful lake I have ever seen.  It is postcard beautiful and it is impossible to not notice that.  There is no bad view of this lake.  I bet there was not one person on the trip that doesn’t have at least 5 pictures of the lake.  I don’t think I was prepared for such stunning views.  I was astonished and captivated by this excess of scenic beauty.  I wanted to treat it with a high degree of reverence.

     Beyond the sheer beauty lies a mystical presence of this lake.  I am positive this spirit of the lake was present as I tried to find a quiet place to meditate on and contemplate on this aspect of the lake each morning I was at La Casa Colibri.  With 9 people and 3 staff members sharing a space in one house, it was a bit of a challenge but I managed to find some solitude almost every morning we were there.  In my own spiritual practice I have been working on being present. 

     Considering my professional life is all about listening to others that I am coaching, being present is incredibly important.  I believe it is my life purpose as a matter of fact.  My intent was to be as present as I possibly could be while facing the lake and quieting my mind.  I wanted to be where I was, while I was there and not want to think about what we were going to eat for breakfast or where we were going shopping that day.  I was trying to soak it all up and fill myself up with Lago Atitlan.

     Most recently, I went to our 12 year old granddaughters’ performance of “King Arthur’s Quest” after she had attended a week long summer camp at One World Theater in Austin, Texas.  She was one of four Damsels in Distress and these were the girliest group of giggling preteens I have ever seen.   Stay with me because I am trying to make a point here.


    One of the characters in this middle school age children’s production was the Lady of the Lake.  She has an important part in the tales of King Arthur.

    The Lady of The Lake was a mysterious female credited with giving King Arthur the legendary sword Excalibur and the mystic scabbard which protected the wearer from dying. She was also credited with abducting Lancelot to her underwater dwelling to be her ward, training him to be the greatest of all knights. 

     I don’t know what gender this spirit was but these attributes came through for me for Lake Atitlan…mysterious, intuitive, receptive, sensitive, emotional, evocative and alive.

    One late afternoon I was on the main patio looking across and a huge thick cloud dipped down to water level all the way on the other side of the lake,  from the top of the volcano swooping down to the lake level and began rushing toward me at an impossible rate.  I thought my eyes were deceiving me.


    I called the others out to verify what was happening in my skeptical brain.  This cloud was engulfing everything in sight and it was coming right at us!  It was scary and exciting and unbelievable all at the same time.  As everyone fumbled with their cameras to capture this moment, I just watched as it turned everything gray and hazy in the background. 


    No lake town lights, no boats, no water even, nothing but a huge alive cloud coming at us at breakneck speed.  Then right before it threatened to engulf us, it lifted high above us and moved over the mountain behind us. It was like a curtain being pulled up in front of us.

     Magically, then there were the volcanoes, the twinkling lights of the villages on the other side and, of course, the silky deep blue water.  I had never seen anything like that.

     As I reflect now on the Lake Atitlan experience for myself, I believe the time I spent being present with that clear lake, helped me get clarity around the next steps in my life.  I feel stronger than ever that my place is here in San Miguel de Allende .  I have had one foot in a boat called the US and one foot in a boat called Mexico for too long now.  Those boats begin to drift apart and as I continued to try to straddle them it became uncomfortable.  I want both feet in one boat.  That boat is at the dock on Callejon de Curtidores and that's were our house is in San Miguel.

The three chairs Lucas, our major-domo, covered with towels each morning with a look out over the lake. Great place for coffee

The mysterious movements of the lake reflected on the surface. The ripple effect.

The volcanoes Toliman and Santiago across the lake with gathering clouds.

The mysterious mass of clouds beginning to move across the lake towards Casa Colibri.

MY NAMESAKE IN SAN PEDRO...JOSEPH McCLAIN

GUATEMALA 2011 BLOG

      Sitting here in Casa Colibri, everything is quiet. Outside the rain hides all but the dark silhouettes of the volcanoes which stand sentry on the far western shore of Lago de Atitlán. The lake itself is a silver grey field with no connection to any distant horizon. All lake. All horizon. Timeless and limitless.

      David and I returned half drenched from San Pedro on the other side of the lake. We had a late breakfast with Javier, Josefa and baby Bresner José Augusto. At a table out on a terrace above the lake, I held little José, all four months of him, cuddled up against me as if he had known me for a long time. He is my little namesake. His father Javier is my beloved, much enjoyed and admired Spanish teacher of last summer. Josefa, his mother, we met for the first time. Javier looked skinnier today than last summer and for all of that even brighter, funnier, and quicker than before. Josefa was a tiny doll of a person with huge eyes, beautiful lips. She took care of her infant with the deep serenity of a Madonna or perhaps the serenity is deep like the mysterious lake itself.

      It began raining as we finished our late breakfast. They arrived without an umbrella, so we gave them one of our cheapos that we bought on a corner in San Cristóbal at the beginning of our little journey.

      The beginning of our journey? How can a journey have a beginning when one has had so many journeys and realizes, finally, that all those beginnings are all part of one big journey? One big journey with an end that feels unimaginable and yet inevitable.

      We left them at the terrace restaurant of the Hotel Mikaso. I had a big lump in my throat as we climbed down the stairs to the tiny flooded street. I knew that if I tried to tell David about how deeply moved I was that little José had been named for me, I would just start blubbering. So I decided to keep quiet about it.

Joseph, baby José, Javier and Josefa on the terrace of the Hotel Mikaso in San Pedro where Joseph studied Spanish with Javier last summer.

The two Josés!!

José and his namesake Bresner José Augosto

Josefa and Javier. Josefa in the typical blouses of the women in San Pedro.

David and little José.

      We found a tuk tuk on a street rapidly becoming a river in the downpour and asked to go up to the market in the search of the typical blouses of the women in San Pedro, not huipiles, more like blouses with lace and sheer and sparkly stuff, all in delicious colors of deep green, purple tinged with aubergine, robin egg blue. Finally, after fleeing the raw meat smells of the market itself we found three women who not only told us where to go but insisted on leading us down watery streets to the shop itself. We found racks of them. We picked deep green and amazing purple. One for our Martha in our house in San Miguel, and one for Hermine, my daughter.

      As the shop keeper wrapped up our blouses I told her about our meeting with Javier and his family and she knew them! It felt really homey there in the shop as she applied extra touches to the packages to make them special and we talked about surprise mutual friends.

      Then back into a waiting tuk tuk, a short stop in a farmácia for Sinutabs hoping to quell David’s sniffles, one more stop over in a little shop to replace our umbrella, and then on to our piloto Rodolfo and the boat waiting for us to take us back to Santa Catarina.

      Rodolfo was jovial as we met him hiding from the rain in a doorway. On the way over he caught a fish with his bare hands for dinner tonight.

      The lake was majestic as we crossed, just the two of us in the front plowing across the soft waters. Of course, the lake has always been majestic. It simply waits with its majestic expanse of blue for you to be quiet enough to perceive it. It’s not always easy to be that quiet.

      Back at amazing Casa Colibri, I think everyone is asleep, resting from the adventures of the day. We had great ambitions and plans to keep this blog moving along from day to day, but the days were too full of impressions and activity to even think about it: a whirlwind trip into Chiapas from Mexico City, an exquisite dinner at Ciel y Tierra, posh (chiapateco distilled liquor) in all its variations, trips to three Mayan Highlands villages, 10 hours in a van crossing the border from Mexico into Guatemala, this stupendous house with its once-in-a-lifetime views, boat trips around the lake, crazy ladies trying to sell us stuff at the boat dock and almost falling into the lake, Panajachél, Santiago de Atitlán, San Pedro, San Marcos, San Juan, Jaibalito, not to mention the mind-boggling experience of the Mayan market at Chichicastenango, delicious dinners in Casa Colibri prepared by the chef Ángela, Sheila’s big birthday cocktail party, Lukas dashing around taking care of our every need, and on and on. I think that the others will write more about all of that. Somehow we will try to get you the whole picture.

      Please consider this a sort of prologue. I will ask the others simply to write their impressions and along with that we will post many, many photos. And maybe we will find a way to post our theme music that I hear now and which, when I hear it in the future, will always take my heart back to this lake.

Joseph McClain

The group leaving from San Miguel on the way to the airport in Mexico City. From back to front and left to right: Nancy Lockwood, otherwise known as Lockwood, Sheila Sheehan, Nanci Yuronis. Middle row: Cynthia Buzzard, Dar Burleson and hidden behind the guy in the white shirt must be Kathy Tobler, front row: Duke McClain, David Manning. Our first destination was to be San Cristóbal de las Casas in Chiapas.

Main pedestrian street in San Cristóbal de las Casas.

Church on main plaza at night. One block from our hotel, the Diego de Mazariego.

Portales of the convent now housing the Amber Museum. Chiapas is one of the few places in the world where amber is mined and deep red amber from Chiapas is highlyl valued.

Jerald Head and Robin Carrillo joined us in Mexico City. Here Jerald waits in the courtyard of the Diego de Mazariegos for the obligatory early evening cocktail hour!

The hotel courtyard. Chiapas has huge forests and a lot of wood is used in building. In our part of Mexico, the columns in the patio would be of stone or masonry.