Starting to say goodbye

This last week here, I have realized some things that I believe are wrong with the world. It's taken me a full 3 days and a day long bike ride to actually quit bitching about it. One day I'd like to write about it, but right now it's still too raw, and can also lead to negative reactions from people who I don't want to hurt. So one day.

As for today, Hugh and I went for a bike ride at 8:00 am and didn't get back till 3! I am super curious how many miles that was, but am a little afraid to ask. up in the dozens of dozens. We met at Vrisa, the english language bookstore that also gives bike tours ever Saturday, and were the only ones that showed up to go besides the two guides. Didn't bother them any, so we headed out. I'm not exactly much of a bike rider, the only ones I've ever had until recently have been cruisers with pedal brakes and no gears, and then after those one with only 6 gears. So first thing was that I had to get Sandra, one of the guides to teach me how to use the gears, as we're riding. We're going down this wide well paved road and I'm already thinking that if we don't get there soon, I'm going to start having some problems. I knew in the first 20 minutes that I was way over my head. Hugh, meanwhile, is up with the first guide, all being athletes and whatnot.

We crossed a river and stopped on the other side, where Rodrigo explained that during Hurricane Stan the water rose and you could see where all the buildings around it were sunken into the ground at bizarre angles. Then he said it was just 15 minutes farther to our first sight, and we set off again. One crazy vertical hill, intense nausea, and many rest breaks later (for me.) we come through the village of Salcaja to see the oldest church in Central America- built in 1524, only a few years after the conquest from Spain and the fall of the Aztecs. From there to this little tienda where they sell traditional alcohol- a sugary thick yellow rum made out of egg yolks tasting like custard, and a Caldo de Frutas, which is really just plain old moonshine. I had to get some moonshine, we've got to celebrate our departure here somehow, and the more Guatemalan, the better.

Then we headed off for Cantel, to see the glass cooperative Copavic. I'm a little confused at this point because Cantel seems to me to be in the opposite direction from the city as where we are. We come out of Salcaja and go onto some dirt roads, which go on FOREVER and take us through corn fields among corn fields. Every time I had to get out and walk, everyone said good morning to me, and when we were riding quickly through, they all said adios. It was nice to be in a good, safe, small place again. The road took us into the cornfields and under the mountains. Cantel is seriously the cloud kingdom. I don't know what it is, you'd think being so close to massive mountains you'd feel low, but you don't. You feel on top of the earth, surrounded by even higher land that goes up and touches the sky. I love it there. Then something like 2 hours riding up and down hills on the dirt road that has disintegrated into gulleys and rocks. Every time I made it up a big hill, panting and sweating and yet smiling somehow, they cheered for me at the top. They were good people. Then we'd take an air gathering break and head out again. Every time we made it up a hill, Rodrigo would say "last one! I promise! From here it's all straight or down!" What a good liar. Hugh, I repeat, is hanging out with Rodrigo up front. Just relaxing, not breaking a sweat. Whoa.

We continued under the mountains for a while, and the road turned into pavement again finally and we got to cruise down for a long time, at some point passing my bus stop where I always get out to go to Juana's house to teach my class in Cantel! I was really excited about this, also realizing that I just rode a bike WAY out of the way to get to a place that usually takes me 30 minutes on a bus. That's an odd and unfamiliar sensation for me. All the way down this spectacular hill, which felt so good and made me so happy, seeing all the things I usually see from behind a bus window. When we got to the bottom, we rode on the curb beside a main road to the Copavic glass co-op. We got there right before they closed and got to see some glass blowers. We were there a year and a half ago, and not much has changed. It would have been nice to get a gift there for some leftovers on my list, but after buying a bottle of liquor, I wasn't about to add even more weight on.

From there we went down an EVEN MORE RIDICULOUS slope off the main road, near a river that I see every time I leave Xela. This one was really two dirt or mud paths cut into the grass by truck wheels, and when it got too steep and crazy, just one path cut by the feet of the people that live there. We passed a field of cilantro where women were picking the crop, and it was so strong it burned your nostrils. We threw ourselves over rocks, with the river on one side and the cliffs from the bottom of the mountains on the other. It was so.. so... beautiful. When I was able to breath and feel things other than my muscles dying loud and terrible deaths, I was also able to think about how spectacular was the place I was in, and how interesting and out of the ordinary was the way I was doing it. It was more fun than walking, admittedly, and closer to nature than I've been in so very long. Plus I was riding through a ravine that I see all the time from the foggy windows of busses, wishing I could explore it. After a long time we got to a natural hot spring, one not very well known, called Chicobix, where I realized I had forgotten my bathing suit. I ended up wearing Hugh's undershirt and an extra pair of shorts Rodrigo brought. It was worth the awkwardness of wearing a strange man's shorts. We soaked in the pool, with the sound of the river nearby and little kids learning to swim in front of us, for about an hour. Talking with Rodrigo about books and movies and life. Then we got out and onto those damn bikes again, and I tried to drag my demolished butt up to the place where we could catch a bus. In the process we walked our bikes over a hanging foot-bridge above the river, which made me REALLY happy. Then we got to Zunil, the location of my FAVORITE indigenous dress. We sat there for a while waiting for the bus and I got to admire the super detailed, embroidered skirts, and one woman who had really elaborate and unusual animals embroidered on her top, many of which I couldn't recognize.

Then a 30 or more minute chicken bus ride back to Xela, locking up the bikes again, rigorously thanking our guides, and trying to convince them that I had an amazing time, was sooo happy that I came, and was so content to have them be so patient and encouraging. It really was yet another defining moment in my time here, and made me realize a few things about how I'd like to live after this. One being that hikes, rides, and general rigorous outdoor exploration is a major passion and source of joy for Hugh, and I'd like to be able to take part in that with him. The other being that this kind of stuff feels really, really good. The whole idea of focusing on your body rather than your head is beautiful. When I got back I felt fresh and alive (miraculously) and happy and content. Not bitchy and weepy like I've been the entire week before. Plus the food I ate and the shower I took were TAN RICO. (so rich.) I'd like to exercise more often after this, if for no other reason than that it makes my brain feel good, not to mention the health benefits and all that whatnot. The last thing I got out of this was a chance to part with Xela. I was in it. I got it up close and personal, and it was beautiful and it was really freaking physically destructive. So I got enough of it to feel full, and also I got the memories of pain that will come back every time I think about Xela, to help me miss it maybe not so much.