I arrived in Flores yesterday. Flores is the closest sizable town to Tikkal (Guatemala´s most famous Mayan site, I will be visiting it tomorrow) and as such is quite touristy. On the way in, I noticed the tents of Circo Barley, and decided that i´d have to check it out. I made my way down there for the last show of the weekend, and was accosted at the door by an endearingly obnoxious israeli lady in her 50´s, asking if I could translate. She needed to know if it was a good show, what types of animals there were, and said that if the show turned out not to be good she would come back and kill the ticket lady. Since the tickets were two for one that day, I went in and sat with her for the amusement and the half price ticket.
The show was a mixed bag, but overall well worth the $2.60. (Non circus freaks, please forgive the play by play here.) They opened with flying trapeze, which was quite impressive simply for the amount of space it took up in the small tent. The level was not especially high, but it was well presented, and the 7 or 8 year old boy did very well. After a clown bit was the areal fabric act. The first few moves were things that I can do (which means that they´re pretty basic). After that though, she flubbed her way through a couple rather complicated drops. Her form was deplorable, but really, overall it was a very impressive performance for a 10 year old. Her size was also an advantage because it meant that she could be raised and lowered by two guys, without the need of a winch.
The juggler was top notch. He kept aloft 5 clubs, 7 rings, and 4 sombreros, with that flashy spinny style, epitomized by his low 4 club triple shower while running around the ring. And he even had a lovely assistant. After an intermission and some more clown bits (given the language barrier, I have to give them the benefit of the doubt). I did see something that i´ve never seen before: head balancing on a trapeze, static and swinging, and with ring spinning on his hands.
The animal part of the show was a bit sad. Thankfully, there were not tigers or elephants, just a couple tired horses that could jump over a low rail and put their front hooves up on the ring curb for a pose. The llama was actually the most talented of the three. (The advertised monkeys were absent, but i saw them clambering around the bleachers after the show).
The young aerialist returned for a hula hoop act that was actually quite impressive. The finale act, the wheel of death (yes, this is the technical term) was again, not technically top level, but still quite watchable and impressive.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Senderismo en el Region Ixil
I just got back from hiking in the mountains surrounding Nebaj. A few years ago, the Spanish NGO Solidaridad Internacional set up the region´s ecotourism by installing posadas comunidades in many small villages where hikers can get a bed and meals, and by publishing hiking guides and maps. We (myself and a German traveler I hung out with a few days) followed the guidebook and walked out of Nebaj on a foot path through fields, pastures, and forest. We climbed up the hillside, getting a good view of the town, passed through one village and hiked on to the the community of Xexocom for the night. The last part of the walk was on a new dirt road that had been completed just 15 days ago, allowing vehicle access to the village for the first time ever. The village has a stream running just below it, so there was plenty of water for crops; the surrounding fields were lush and green.
Xexocom means "at the foot of the mountain," which is quite apt. It as actually surrounded by mountains on three sides. The next day after breakfast we hit the trail, straight up the switchbacks, climbing about 1000 meters in not many kilos. We had reached the altiplano, a dry (at least this time of year), rocky area with few trees. The villages in the altiplano subsist mainly by grazing sheep. Just past the crest of the hill we reached a small village of about 30 families. We were spotted at a distance by a kid and soon a mob of about 30 kids we clambering over the rocks to check us out. They would run away laughing when we got near. We made our way into the village proper, amidst chickens, pigs, turkeys, the kids lurking around the corner of houses (the bold ones coming out to say "Hola"), and a few people going about their business or hanging around the village's one tienda (store). We were greeted, in english, by a young man in flashy new clothes. Rather out of place. It took us a few exchanges to realize that he was really speaking english and answered him that way, not just a few catch phrases like many young Guatemalans. It turned out that he had just returned the day before from Ohio, after working (illegally) in the states for 4 years, to visit his wife and daughter before heading back north.
We continued on to the next village (also accessible only by foot) where we spent the night. The guidebook had said that we could buy purified water in the villages, but they were sadly mistaken. The tiendas, either a tiny wooden shack or a few shelves in somebody´s living room, sold mostly food and a few necessities, not a drop of water to be had. We got the family with whom we ate our meals to boil us some water. Until we returned to Nebaj, we enjoyed "auga pura" with authentic smoke flavor.
It is worth mentioning that communication was very difficult in the villages. The majority of people spoke little or no spanish. More than half of Guatemalans speak one of some 40 Mayan languages as their first language, and while education, including spanish language, is guaranteed to all citizens, the reality in remote areas does not quite meet this mandate. The partiarchs of the villages spoke decent spanish, but with such a thick accent that my paltry level of spanish was only sufficient for the most basic of communication.
The next day´s hike took us back down into the valley, the landscape returned to lush and green. Having grown tired of a diet of noodles in broth (with occasional egg) and tortillas for breakfast and dinner, and agua fumada, we hitched a ride in the back of a pickup, along another brand new dirt road, back to Nebaj. On the way we passed a bus with several live sheep standing within the confines of the roof rack.
Xexocom means "at the foot of the mountain," which is quite apt. It as actually surrounded by mountains on three sides. The next day after breakfast we hit the trail, straight up the switchbacks, climbing about 1000 meters in not many kilos. We had reached the altiplano, a dry (at least this time of year), rocky area with few trees. The villages in the altiplano subsist mainly by grazing sheep. Just past the crest of the hill we reached a small village of about 30 families. We were spotted at a distance by a kid and soon a mob of about 30 kids we clambering over the rocks to check us out. They would run away laughing when we got near. We made our way into the village proper, amidst chickens, pigs, turkeys, the kids lurking around the corner of houses (the bold ones coming out to say "Hola"), and a few people going about their business or hanging around the village's one tienda (store). We were greeted, in english, by a young man in flashy new clothes. Rather out of place. It took us a few exchanges to realize that he was really speaking english and answered him that way, not just a few catch phrases like many young Guatemalans. It turned out that he had just returned the day before from Ohio, after working (illegally) in the states for 4 years, to visit his wife and daughter before heading back north.
We continued on to the next village (also accessible only by foot) where we spent the night. The guidebook had said that we could buy purified water in the villages, but they were sadly mistaken. The tiendas, either a tiny wooden shack or a few shelves in somebody´s living room, sold mostly food and a few necessities, not a drop of water to be had. We got the family with whom we ate our meals to boil us some water. Until we returned to Nebaj, we enjoyed "auga pura" with authentic smoke flavor.
It is worth mentioning that communication was very difficult in the villages. The majority of people spoke little or no spanish. More than half of Guatemalans speak one of some 40 Mayan languages as their first language, and while education, including spanish language, is guaranteed to all citizens, the reality in remote areas does not quite meet this mandate. The partiarchs of the villages spoke decent spanish, but with such a thick accent that my paltry level of spanish was only sufficient for the most basic of communication.
The next day´s hike took us back down into the valley, the landscape returned to lush and green. Having grown tired of a diet of noodles in broth (with occasional egg) and tortillas for breakfast and dinner, and agua fumada, we hitched a ride in the back of a pickup, along another brand new dirt road, back to Nebaj. On the way we passed a bus with several live sheep standing within the confines of the roof rack.
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