Community Tourism in San Juan

29th - 31st Dec


View from our homestay door

I am sitting looking over coffee plants and chickens eating a salted taron grapefruit while the slap, slap of fresh tortillas being made comes from the kitchen where Doña Soledad is making my lunch. It is 11am New Year’s Eve and we are coming to the end of a visit to the tourism co-operative of San Juan, a village south of Gracias. We are staying in Doña Soledad’s house, a hearty and jovial 84 year-old who welcomed us in with a hug and a kiss. She spends most of her day in the kitchen, beside the wood burning hot plate. Her husband goes out to milk their cows, her adopted son Leonardo to work their land full of coffee plants, bananas, beans, maize and other fruits and vegetables. Meals have been mostly of food from her own land, much of it organic, including freshly squeezed milk, cheese, curd cheese, beans, bananas, free range yard eggs, coffee and maize tortillas.


Georgia picking coffee

We made tortillas with her the first night. I would say ‘helped’ except for the mis-shapen attempts we produced. On the last day she demonstrated how she roasts coffee beans on her hot plate and we helped turn the beans so that they did not burn. As they roast, the smell comes increasingly of coffee, except in our case and because of our 'help' it was dominated by a heady aroma of charcoal.


Roasting the coffee beans


That's fresh coffee!

Soledad’s daughter Gladys runs a stationers cum button shop cum café which quadruples as the visitor centre for the co-operative. This was where we arrived to and were shown a well-produced information folder that explains the aims of the co-operative, how it benefits its members and the activities provided through it.


Leonardo, Soledad's son, and Georgia pick coffee

Over the last couple of days we have got to know them all, especially Doña Soledad, and so got much closer to Hondurans than before. The co-operative is only four years old and was founded due to the plummeting coffee prices on the international market. With declining incomes a group of villagers and a Peace Corps worker identified the sorts of activities and infrastructure needed to increase small-scale community tourism. The current twenty members of the co-operative earn much needed income but also the visitor learns much more about contemporary and traditional Honduran life than if simply passing through and staying at a hotel. We have certainly got to know the people and lifestyles very well.


Danilo our guide and Campesinos

We had a full-day 24km hike into the mountains yesterday to visit the Waterfalls of the Elves. While not seeing any elves we did spend a great day with Danilo, a small farmer who as a guide earns 50% over the average daily wage for a coffee worker. Not only did we learn about the plants and history of the area, we were introduced to other members of the community and felt like we were being right in a real part of Honduras.


A waterfall, no elves in sight!

More photos are on our flickr photostream, link above left.

Thank You Gracias

26th-29th Dec


Gracias


Gracias Church

Gracias is a small mountain town in the western Highlands of Guatemala, an area occupied by the indigenous Lenca people. The bus journey from the coast rose through ever-more stunning countryside flanked by high mountains. We met a British-Irish couple who now live in San Francisco on the bus and shared stimulating conversations to pass the four hour journey. On arrival, we hopped in a tuk-tuk to the Finca Bavaria, a German-Honduran owned small walled coffee finca and hotel on the edge of town. Our room was set in a beautiful but somewhat neglected garden of forest trees, flowers, bananas, mangoes and coffee plants, all hidden behind a high stone wall and foreboding black steel gates – German style. The family who run the finca for the owners comprise a friendly but somewhat dotty hombre, a scowling senora and their pleasant, smiling daughter. The gates were purportedly closed at 10pm, to be opened on knocking, but were closed by 9.30 and opened with comments of ‘ooh, isn’t it late?’


Gracias Chat Up

The town is a small grid pattern of low pan-tiled painted houses, with a labyrinthine market at its centre. Two white Hispanic churches are the highest buildings in the town, one of them set next to a small wooded park. It gets its name from its founder, Spanish Conquistador Juna de Chevez, who called it Thank You to God when he came to this part of Central America in 1536. It is one of the oldest towns in Honduras, and has twice been it capital albeit briefly. An indigenous Lenca revolt against Spanish rule was brutally put down here when the Lenca leader Lempira was murdered on the pretence of an invitation to peace talks. He is now a national hero and his name is the name of the Honduran currency.


Lenca Hombre


Gracias does not get many tourists which means that there is a different atmosphere in town than elsewhere we have visited so far. People are going about their normal lives and as visitors we can see what that means in Honduras rather than solely being on holiday mode and seen by locals as a source of cash. One feature is that there are lots of men in cowboy hats.


Oranges are the only fruit

The market is a delight to explore and buy tortillas, fruit, vegetables and cheese. The outer walls are honeycombed with small shops selling everything from saddles and hardware to clothes and plastic things. Gracias is a place to wander around aimlessly and absorb how people live in highland Honduras. We also climbed to the nearby 19th century Castillo and spent an afternoon in hot springs situated 8km outside the town in a wooded gorge. A group of American and British backpackers arrived mid-afternoon and we shared beers over conversation – the ideal way to enjoy communal bathing. The only issue being the overly-amplified music which was further let down by Depeche Mode, Metallica and Eye of the Tiger.

More photos on our flickr photostream, link top right.

Christmas Day

25^th December

A lie in until 9 then into the hammock for me, a lie in outside until 9 then yoga for Georgia. It’s Christmas morning! Everyone at home will be stuffed or still battling through dinner and our day is just beginning.

We get off to a slow start then head to the beach, still full of panetone, but as it is Christmas I have some for breakfast. The beach is packed with Hondurans today, many coming from nearby towns just for the day. The atmosphere is one of a joyful party, families swimming or having barbecues, men getting slowly drunk, children splashing each other in the sea. We bought coconut cake and bread from women selling on the beach.

We then had our Christmas lunch – avocado, tomato and white cheese salad – completely festive in colour. We had it on the lawn in front of our room, alongside two British backpackers, one of whom opened a bottle of champagne and we shared the remaining panetone.

We tried calling and sending a specially shot video epic Christmas message at the local internet but you could get a better connection with spaghetti so gave up and returned to the hostel to open our presents. We had both gone to the nearby town, Puerto Cortes on the 23^rd to go to the ATM and had set a 100 lempira (£2.50) secret shopping mission after. Georgia got me a beach football, Frisbee, Santa biscuits and Santa lollies while I bought for her a Saints bracelet, a water pistol, a head band (she’d just lost hers), an apple and a mandarin, a wooden bracelet (actually from Caye Caulker) and the most ugliest looking n smelling fruit I’ve seen called a Noni (actually medicinal and good for stomach and kidneys – nice!) all in a Santa bag.

So, we rushed down the beach to play with the ball in the sea, and were quickly joined by a couple of groups of children, Georgia got me with the water pistol again and again and again and again and then we played Frisbee until sunset. I spoke to Rudolph on Christmas Day! It’s true, He was one of lots of Hondurans on holiday we chatted to.

A nice cup of tea and a couple more Italian cakes preceded our Christmas Dinner - coconut curry.

We have had a great Christmas. Despite the beach being dirty and a bloody great oil terminal sitting next door we have enjoyed it massively and joined in Honduran style.

Christmas Eve

24th December

It’s almost 6pm, dusk, in Honduras which means it is nearly midnight Christmas Eve in England. From a hammock, and with a beer, I am watching the fire flies are lazily flying over the lawn of the hostel, twinkle of natural fairy lights to welcome in Buenos Noche. In Central America, as in many parts of Europe, people celebrate on the 24th – Buenos noche meaning Good Night – with family gatherings to exchange presents, eat large meals featuring tamales, cakes, rum and coffee. Chicos are setting of firecrackers. Georgia is on the lawn amongst the fire flies, I’m in a hammock, chilling out before the night ahead for which we have bought panetone and champagne from the Italian bakery.

We need to relax after an active day. We took the two hostel kayaks out to sea just after 10.00am and paddled around the headland to the next beach. The sea had got up in the night so it was fun bobbing up and down on the waves for about half an hour until we reached the beach. This was the quiet beach the guide recommended in favour of the town beach but the amount of flotsam and oily grey sand were a big disappointment. We swam and sunbathe before kayaking back, returning about 2.30pm to have lunch – at last!

We followed the fireflies with another beer and avocado salad alongside the other hostel guests – Mexican, German, British, French, French Canadian, Spanish and Nicaraguan. About 10pm we went outside to promenade with the locals, many of whom were on their ways in large family groups to family dinners and parties, some with pinyatas for the children. Lots of children were out setting off firecrackers, except for one delightful boy who had pretty and more tranquil flying horizontal Catherine wheels. Gangs of teenagers huddled together around bikes, adults outside of bars. After walking the whole length of the street as far as the main road we picked up our champagne and panetone and sat on the end of the dock, under the near-full Full Moon, watching fishes in the water and listening to the party along the beach. The extra dry champagne was delicious yet sweet, the panetone beautifully baked to perfection.

Half the panetone, the whole of the champagne and an hour later and we were on our way to the party. A dark beach dancehall was packed with Hondurans, all couples gyrating to the hot Latin tunes of the enthusiastic DJ. A few slick moves British style showed the locals how to keep their hips still and showing them up we departed for bed.

Rolling into Roli’s Place, Omoa

22nd December onwards.

We picked out Omoa as the place for Christmas and maybe New Year because the guide book said it was a quiet fishing village with a good backpacker’s hostel called Roli’s Place, a Honduran resort and a quiet beach nearby. Georgia remembered it as a nice resort with a good beach 10 years previously. It shouldn’t be too built-up or noisy yet still some Honduran Christmas action.

It is easy to get to. The bus from the Guatemalan border to Puerto Cortes passes through the village and drops you off at the road to the backpackers and the beach. The walk to Roli’s is all flat, 1 km, through the village. The place is beautiful, with gorgeous gardens alive with hummingbirds and butterflies attracted to the flowers. The dock is a short stroll away.

But this is where most of the attractions of Omoa sadly end. The beach has been washed away by a recent expansion of the gas factory, a new breakwater changing the currents and so leaving a narrow strip where once football and volleyball pitches lay. The nearby quiet beach is quiet, surrounded by mangroves, with ospreys in the sea, but it is covered in rubbish. Many mangroves were cut down for the gas terminal and large lorries transporting gas trundle through the village.

If you want somewhere to hang out, recover from travelling and enjoy peaceful nights sleep then Roli’s is perfect. Duck in if you are on the coast road. His 10.30pm quiet curfew is strictly adhered to so it is not for the party crowd. He does provide free use of sea kayaks, bicycles, table tennis, table football and a kitchen, all set in his tranquil gardens, which make it an ideal port f call for quiet recuperation from the road.

There is another great reason to stop off at Omoa – the Paticceria Italiana. Sheltered behind white Roman columns is an Italian bakery owned by an extremely charming Neapolitan. He bakes awesome panetone, delicious pan blanco, exquisite cakes and great pizza as well as having a good supply of Californian champagne. What a find!

Solstice in Tikal

21^st December

I have spent many a night, usually cold, waiting for summer solstice sunrise in England only to be thwarted from seeing the sun rise by cloud, mist and/or rain. My dedication to celebrating the rebirth of the year has never extended to waiting out a British winter solstice, but the prospect of one in perhaps the most important Mayan ruins with Mayan shamen was much more appealing. It would be warmer for a start and there shouldn’t be cloud now the rainy season was over. Should there? This was to be the culmination of Unificacion Maya so there would be lots of hippies just like in England.

Free access to Tikal was arranged by Guatemala’s institute of Mayan, Gaifuna and other spiritual guides and we were collected in two minivans from El Remate at four in the morning to follow one of the festival organisers, Denilo, in convoy. The sky was clear, the stars shone out in brilliance after the setting of the near full moon. After 5km we hit thick mist hanging over the jungle, at the entrance we were told foreigners did not qualify for free entrance so would each have to pay the normal £10 entry fee. As the group groaned and prepared to pay, Georgia and me silently melted into the shadows and at the next checkpoint eased our way past the guards with a £1.30 payment for their time and trouble.

Sounds deadened, shadows dismissed, Tikal in the mist was silently beautiful, temples and trees casting different shades of grey amongst their white blanket. We had the Gran Plaza to ourselves until the rest of the group caught up. Here Guatemala’s finest traditional flautist, Pablo Collado, played a mesmerising concert to people sitting on the steps of Temple 2. A mist shrouded Temple 1 was his backdrop.

By 10.00am we waited for the other organiser, Anne of IxCanaan, to arrive with the shamen. We waited and waited, by 12 midday Georgia gave up and decided to go home. News was that they were held up outside because of the issue of the entry fee. Rumours circulated that they would hold the ceremony outside the gate, some said we should join them in a show of solidarity so that those who could not afford the fee would not miss out. We would give them half an hour said Denilo. Within minutes some of the second group began to enter the Gran Plaza. Another organiser had paid for those without much money, and the ceremony was on for where it was intended – the centre of the Gran Plaza between temples 1 and 2. Just like festivals of the 70s and 80s, the atmosphere rose with the realisation of overcoming the authorities and the odds. Battle of the Beanfield it wasn’t but we all thought we had succeeded against ‘The Corporation’.

The ceremony itself as a 4 hour extravaganza led by Tata Pedro Cruz and his fellow shamen. Part-Mayan fire ceremony, part-Hippy festival, it was a mix of old tradition and new counter culture. Perhaps 200 people participated, maybe 20% Guatemalan. By the end everyone was hot, tired and hugging each other. Unificacion Maya had pulled off a spectacular event that meant a great deal spiritually, emotionally and socially for everyone who attended. The mist parted mid-morning, no one got cold and both the fire and the sunset were spectacular. Only the mist was reminiscent of a British solstice!

Unificacion Maya

15th-18th December


Three shamen

This year’s festival in and near Tikal to celebrate the Mayan solstice and prepare for the beginning of the next Mayan 5,200 year long count era is upon us. We are back in El Remate for a week to participate and help with the festival, organised by Anne of Project IxCanaan. This year is special because the 19th December is the New Year’s Day of the 260 day annual Mayan sacred calendar – the first time in a while the new year and solstice are so close to each other.


Tata and Nana

Three Mayan shamen from the Guatemalan Highlands are leading sacred fire ceremonies each morning by the lake, keeping a sacred fire continually burning where they are staying, and giving information and consultations on the relevance of each person’s Mayan birth date before leading ceremonies with up to 2,500 shamen at Tikal on the 21st to 22nd December.



It is very interesting learning about the traditional Mayan spiritual world and the shamen who connect people with that world of energies that influence our lives. It is a continuation of a 3,000 year-old tradition that has outlasted the abandonment of the Mayan city states, Spanish Conquest and Inquisition, smallpox, denigration of indigenous identity, Civil War, genocide, globalisation and even North American evangelism.


Tata Pedro Cruz welcomes the sun

The people attending the festival, apart from the shamen, are approximately 25% Guatemalan and 75% North American or European. The latter are much the same people who would be attracted to stone circle paganism in Britain, except here there is a direct continuation of the tradition managed and perpetuated from one generation to another by generations of Mayan shamen.



Three things strike me at present.

The spiritual principles discussed by the shamen are similar in many ways to the principles of Hindu Yogis including reincarnation of a spiritual body, meditation, the body as connecting rod with the divine. Now that’s worth thinking about how we explain this without cynically kicking the question in to touch or getting all Graham Hancock over everything. What does this mean? I should find out afgter my consultation with the shamen.

Is it better for westerners searching for spirituality to hang out with people who know what they’re talking about or stone circles?

My birth date sign is a turtle which is highly significant for my life. The lake is my doctor. My birth date is 2 turtle, origin day is 7 monkey, my mission date 10 noj (not yet sure what animal this is). Together it means I am well-balanced, have lots of forward momentum and can go anywhere - sunrise, sunset, where the winds blow, where the winds hide to do my mission which may or may not be about healing but is to do with helpìng others in some way.

San Ignacio

12th-14th December

San Ignacio lies nestled at the confluence of two valleys in the western hills of Belize. We left Indian Church at 7am, receiving a lift from the owner of our guest house with her family, half of who were visiting the hospital in Orange Walk. Two local buses later, via Belize City, and we were in San Ignacio about 4pm. We arrived tired and me with a strangely swollen left foot, the latter probably a result of a scratch and narrow spaces between the seats combined with keeping my camera bag between my feet. A sort of low altitude DVT threat in the making. We shook off one over-enthusiastic tour guide who met us straight off the bus but while sitting in the park as Georgia investigated a campsite with cabanas just outside town I struck up a conversation with a friendly laid-back guide called D’Alessandro who only told me about things I asked.

The town itself isn’t immediately pretty but set in beautiful forested hills. The main highlights were:

Kayaking 14km down the River Macal, passing between forested hills, cruising over rapids and picnicking on a sand bank.





Eating at the South Indian Restaurant!

Meeting Ras Far I, a very gentlemanly Rastafarian from Jamaica

Counting 14 iguanas in adjacent trees.

Meeting the many very friendly, laid-back people of Belize.

Iguanas

14th December



Georgia spotted them first from our kayak. An unusual lump on a branch, high in tree. We hove to and saw it was an orange iguana, all menacing black stripes and spine spikes. Glowering it was.



Once you see one you see lots. On Friday evening just before sunset I counted 14 hanging out on branches, almost one in each tree over a couple of hundred metres. They appear to be soaking up the last warmth from the suns rays before the cool of night.