More than you want to know..

Posted in guatemala with tags on September 14, 2008 by markschaumann

I knew something was wrong as soon as I sat on the bicycle. It was still rideable after the accident; I know this because I recall Marvin riding it after we collected it from the cops (one of the few things I remember about the days after the accident).  But something is definitely amiss here. I got off the bike and started looking at things…..the frame is bent!!!  So is the seat post, how do you bend a seat post? Maybe I was struck by a car, nobody saw the accident, the policia simply assumed there were no cars involved because the bike still rolled OK. 

 I wanted to know more about what took place out of curiosity, but it wasn’t real important to know everything about that occurred because the REALLY important thing is that God saw fit to spare me (yet again) and I am here to live another day.  Anyhow, I asked some of the people who were involved in helping me for more details. Marvin said the story he got from the police was I was on a busy road (to Canton?) in the afternoon, just outside of Xela, and I hit a speedbump and rode off the side of a bridge. The cops arrived and called for an ambulance but the ambulance never showed, so the cops drug me up the embankment and put me in the back of the cop car. On the way to the La Democracia Hospital Publico I went into seizures. They dropped me off at the hospital then paid a visit to Colin at Vrisa English Bookstore.  Colin rents bicycles in addition to selling books. A while back, a gringo got nailed on a bike he had rented there (that guy spent 3 weeks in the hospital) and the cops thought maybe my bike came from there. Colin informed them that it wasn’t one of his bikes, but said he would go to the hospital and have a look at the gringo tomorrow; and I do vaguely remember a stranger visiting me at the hospital and telling me something emphatically over and over but not grasping what he was saying. I’m glad I had the opportunity to meet Colin the other day, he is an interesting fellow, we talked for quite a while. He said when he arrived at the hospital Dona Gloria, Mayra, Mario and others were already there so I was in good hands. Dona Gloria said she spoon fed me jello she brought to the hospital, that’s just like her to think I needed something to eat.  Marvin offered to drive me to the spot where it happened, but when we met the following day to go, his car would not start, someone had swiped the battery.

 On the airplane to Houston I told the guy sitting next to me about my accident. He said he hit a bicyclist once near Xela. The guy was hurt pretty bad, but his main concern was that his bike was smashed and he needed it for work.  He said “have no worries, I will buy you THREE bikes!”.  He said he was glad that he stopped; his conscience would have bothered him if he had not. I will never know for sure if I was hit or forced off the road by a car; I am uncoordinated enough to inflict grave injury upon myself without any help. But maybe someone did hit me….and kept on driving. I wonder if he remembers me flying thru the air and then lying still on the embankment. He probably thinks he killed me. Maybe he will have nightmares for the rest of his life. It’s always best to stop, rather than risk nocturnal visits from the ghost of the dead gringo cada noche…..especially when the gringo ain’t dead, but is sitting here feeling all right today.

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why the line??

Posted in guatemala with tags on September 11, 2008 by markschaumann

There is always a long, long, line of people in front of the federal bank on the Xela Parque Centro every day. The line is composed mostly of men wearing straw cowboy hats. Only one at a time is allowed to enter the building and each one is patted down for weapons  before entering. None of the other banks have a line like this.
 Everytime I walk past I wonder “what are they doing?” I decided to ask someone and this is the story I got. During the long civil war in Guatemala, the government forced it’s citizens to roam the countryside and engage the guerrillas. They received no pay, just go do it or else. In the 2000 presidential election one of the candidates promised retroactive pay for these former paramilitaries. He was elected and then decided it was not possible to pay them (politicians are the same all around the world). But the paramilitaries were still well armed and began to make noise and break things. The government acquiesced, and  began cutting and distributing checks. The line at the bank is former paramilitaries picking up their checks.

With this knowledge, I walk past the crowd with a new cognizance. When I look at their eyes, some are friendly, some are hardened, some of them look at me like they are evaluating me. I wonder what their eyes have seen, what their hands have done.  Perhaps when I get a better command of the language I will iniciate a conversation with one of them. To hear of their experiences might make me appreciate sheltered life in the “land of plenty” more. Guatemala is place of far different culture and history.

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The Arrival

Posted in guatemala with tags on September 6, 2008 by markschaumann

In light of several circumstances, it was a good time to go to Guatemala and see my friends. So here I am.  My arrival was a surprise. I rapped on the familiar steel  door with a quetzal four times then Paola opened the door and exclaimed “Marcos!” and she went running to announce the news. Pablo came running and shouting and gave me a big, genuine hug. Next was 4 year old Mimi with her arms in the air saying “hola,hola,hola”. Evelyn was all smiles, and Dona Gloria positively beamed. They gave me a chair and we all spoke at once. The first thing they wanted to know was how long I could stay and they scoffed at the news that I had a room at Los Olivios. “You must come here and stay in the downstairs room”. I promised that is sure thing. It feels really good to be here

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opportunity

Posted in mexico with tags , on August 25, 2008 by markschaumann

 

 

 

What do you regret more? The bad you have done or the good that you know you should have done but didn’t? In crossing Mexico an “opportunity lost” occurred on the Veracruz zocalo. It was mid morning, and I was sitting on a bench sunning myself and people watching, the most popular pastime on the zocalo for last several centuries.  There were many people about; the shoeshine kid, numerous vendors selling their wares, jovenes doing what jovenes do, maybe even a gringo or two, but the focus of my gaze was a young woman by the stage.  She was resting her arms on the stage and crying.  Her niño must have been 3 or 4 and was running loose with no regard to his mother’s state. She was an attractive girl, probably early twenties and near hysterical. She would take two or three sidesteps to the left, then to the right while leaning on the stage and then she would look into the air as if there was some help there if she could just find it. She was clearly not in control of her emotions, this was no show, she was the picture of DESPAIR. I seemed to be the only one who took notice of her. What was the problem?  I wanted to know so bad. I wanted to fix it if I could. If I couldn’t fix it, maybe I know someone who could.  Maybe just a sympathetic ear would help.  But I didn’t do anything. So we will never know. 

A similar situation presented itself weeks later on “otro lada de la bahia”. Underneath the big smile and animated persona there was a tension, a desperation. I went fishing for the problem. With nothing to lose, the sad story was divulged.  I saw flashes of anger as betrayal and broken promises were recounted.  As the tale was told she was reminded afresh of her predicament and the hopelessness of it. Tears welled in her eyes as she concluded with the words, “I have a hard life”.  She was willing, even hoping, to leave everything familiar and go North into the unknown in search of a better life. I dismissed myself to my room to escape the heavy air, but the sorrow followed me there. Now I was a part of the story…..what role should the gringo play?

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Back in the USA…

Posted in guatemala on May 19, 2008 by markschaumann

I am back in the USA. I can’t say enough about the help I have received on both sides of the border. It looks like the worst is over, I should be well soon…….

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I hurt all over..

Posted in guatemala on May 5, 2008 by markschaumann

On my second day in the hospital I began to realize this wasn’t a dreamscape molded by Larium. It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes. The story they tell me, is I was riding on one of Xelas rougher streets and had a tumble (no cars involved). I was unconscious when they found me and I went into seizures during the ambulance ride. Xrays at the hospital revealed a broken clavicle that I need to keep in a sling so it mends correctly. They took head xrays to look for bloodclots. They gave me three kinds of drugs to take.  All my friends came to visit me. First was my teacher Mayra, who was very concerned, then Doña Gloria and her entourage, there were others too, but I don’t remember the last few days well. After three days of observation, they released me today. Marvin (the school director) and I went and got my bicycle from impound. The bike looked unscathed, however the speedo and GPS are missing. I guess I  will buy new one’s with the money I saved (free) on the hospital stay <g>.
I’m thinking it might a good idea to fly home and give my shoulder a chance to heal, maybe get a second opinion. I can leave my bike with Doña Gloria, return in a few months and continue on my way..

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learning the lingo….

Posted in guatemala with tags on April 27, 2008 by markschaumann

School and studying has been occupying a lot of my time. It been harder to find time to write. I am being tutored 4 hours a day, 5 days a week at Utatlan Spanish School. My teacher is the best. Mayra is one of those people who is always happy, and is a real encouragement to me. My lingual ability has grown by leaps and bounds under her tutelage.  The school is a happy place, we have optional activities every afternoon that range from salsa lessons to trips to the hot springs. We have a dinner on Friday, and a big activity on Saturday. Last Saturdays activity was get up at 4am and climb the volcano. I dont attend all the activities, I like to explore the countryside on my bike. The students are a cosmopolitan lot. Some are here for volunteer work, others are backpackers touring Latin America.

Guatemala has a much larger evangelical presence than Mexico. Most of the churches are Pentecostal. On Sunday mornings, I get up early and ride 4k across town to Agua Viva. It is much like a Pentecostal service in the USA, except the service is longer (2&1/2 hours) and the music is better. They have a translator for me, but last week I didnt need one, the preacher was a guest from Texas. The people received me warmly, as I knew they would, its great to be a part of a brotherhood that spans the globe.

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it’s a hard life……

Posted in guatemala with tags on April 19, 2008 by markschaumann

The dirt road was very rough and steep, but it was dry. It wound around the side of the mountain and provided a beautiful vista of the city of Quezaltenango below. In a sloping field four indigenous women are harvesting, their brightly colored huipiles in sharp contrast to the green field. It is very quiet, only the sound of the wind blowing the afternoon mist through the valleys. A man herding several cows down the road swats them on the side with a branch to make room for me. I am fairly sure I have lost my way; but no harm in exploring this road a little further. I pass a sign that declares “Solo Jesus”,   then I pass an ancient, abandoned, three axle truck… Wait a minute, I pull the hand drawn map from my back pocket, there is an “old truck” on it. I am not lost. With renewed confidence, I stash the map and continue down the broken road. Ahead I can see an hombre approaching with a heavy load. When we near each other, I am astounded at the size of the load. I am sure it weighs as much as he does. He is small guy, like all the indigenous are, with very long hair, on his back is the Y shaped log created when a tree trunk splits into two equal branches. It has not been cut but rather looks like it was created when an old dead tree fell. The only thing it could be good for is to burn. The load is suspended from a strap across his forehead; his arms are upraised, hands grasping the strap to help ease the load. I can hear him straining, but he still manages a “‘tardes” in response to my greeting as we pass. I don’t know where he is going with it, but I am sure it is not close. There is nothing out here. As I ride away, many thoughts occur to me. The disparity in these two lives, on the dirt road that winds though the mountains, is glaring. Here is my portly (portly, from overeating) self, pedaling my multi-speed bicycle up the road for some adventure and exercise. The cash I have on me would probably feed my amigo with the timber on his back for six months. I am in the middle of a well funded, multi-month, multi-country bike tour, that doesn’t have a lot of purpose. On the other hand, my amigo is skinny from undereating, and is getting his exercise from toting that lumber out of necessity (I am sure nothing less than necessity would cause one to lift something that heavy) to who knows where. Perhaps he made some bad choices in his life that led to him having to tote lumber in the mountains? I think not. Perhaps I would be toting lumber in mountains with him except I made some  good choices that led to prosperity? Ha, that’s a joke, perhaps someday I will chronicle the bad choices I have made in my life and where they SHOULD have took me. Having money doesn’t necessarily mean contentment.  Perhaps the disparity evens outs when he arrives home and his wife meets him and loves and cherishes him for who he is, not just because he brought the timber home. Now there is something I don’t have and desire in a bad way. However, I think this train of thought is a subconscience attempt to rationalize not doing anything to address the glaring disparity. For all I know, the guy might have it double bad. Maybe he arrives home with the timber, and the wife yells at him for being late. The truth of the matter is I was born in the United States of America and my amigo was born in Guatemala and because of that a disparity in opportunity and quality of life exists. I see this disparity wherever I look down here. Things are tough all over. Should I do anything about the poverty I see? I think yes. With privilege, (which I caulk up to divine providence) comes responsibility. If I subscribed to the “survival of the fittest” school of thought, (and a lot of people do, it’s being taught in our schools) perhaps I would feel differently; but to join that crowd would require being willfully ignorant of my conscience and of all that I see. In the end, I didn’t do a thing to help my  amigo, I just kept riding and the road got steeper and rougher…..there will be more…..there is entirely too many of them….

 

 

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Bienvenidos a Guatemala

Posted in guatemala with tags on April 12, 2008 by markschaumann

 

My first day of bicycling in Guatemala was most excellent. The road started at a 1900 meter elevation, descended to 1700 meters, then it was up and down for a while, then mostly up for long time, finally peaking at 2810 meters just before Pologua. That’s nearly twice as high as Denver. The Pan Am highway is good for bicycling, the grades are not severe and there is a one meter shoulder. It was a clear day and the views were spectacular. Almost all the folks on the side of the road waved. Peculiarly they will often greet me with an “adios”. I stopped at a couple of comedors and got into some conversations. The first flat tire on the bicycle this trip (I’ve had three on the trailer) occurred early on in the day. I pushed it to a gas station and did the repair there. A few guys sauntered up and helped. The best encounter of the day was on a climb around midday. There was a car broke down on the shoulder, and two guys in another car had stopped to help. I pulled up and we started talking. They asked the usual questions. Where are you coming from? Where are you going?  One of them said something about the Mexican flag I am flying on my trailer. I said that I needed a Guatemalan flag now that I was in Guatemala. He stuck his finger in the air, walked across the road, reached in his car window, pulled out a Guatemalan flag! I got the roll of duct tape out of my handlebar bag and we taped the flag to my antenna. Those guys were more happy about giving me the flag than I was about receiving it. They know the joy of giving here.

The last 20 k before Pologua was difficult, it seemed the road would never stop ascending. I had to take breaks and allow my heartrate to come down. I never thought I would see the day my heartrate would be maxed out in low gear.  I pushed the bike a while and discovered that pushing was no slower than riding in low gear. I reached Pologua about 3pm and it cooled off suddenly like it was going to rain. The Hotel Pologua was run by a couple of silly indian girls. They were very nice, and had a lot of questions for me. I got a kick out of talking to them and watching them speak Quiche to each other. They gave me a room on the top floor for $10usd. At 8pm, they brought a dinner of carne asada, rice, beans, and a stack of tortillas to my room for $1.50!  I watched a movie for while then a huge thunderstorm came through and took the cable out.

The next days ride to Xela was mostly downhill, much easier. I passed through a huge market at San Francisco de Alto. The right turn off of the Pan Am at Cuatro Caminos took about 15 minutes, it was a very busy intersection. I was almost to Xela when I saw a white blur out of the corner of my left eye. It was a dog bearing down on me and he looked and sounded real aggressive. I could hear his owner calling him back. He was trying hard to get a piece of my left ankle and I was trying to kick him but he would see it coming and back away. Then help arrived. A chicken bus pulled alongside and the drivers assistant, who always rides standing in the doorway, hauls off and kicks the dog! The dog turns his head to look and I give him a boot in the side. We’re tag teaming the dog. The dog quickly gives up. The assistant and I look at each other with big smiles and give each other the thumbs up. The driver beeps the horn. I can hear people on the bus cheering. A great way to end the days ride, I hate dogs.

I plan on staying in Xela for a few weeks to study Spanish at one of the many Spanish schools here.

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crossing another border…..

Posted in guatemala with tags , on April 9, 2008 by markschaumann

main road into Huehuetenango

Las Cuchumatanes in the background, tallest mountains in Central America

Four story building on the right is the Hotel California

Chicken bus

The original plan was to bypass Guatemala altogether. I was a bit put off by tales of extremely difficult cycling thru huge mountains, highway bandits, and locals who were less than welcoming of the gringos. Kevin, the Irish cyclist I met in the Tuxtlas, was horrified when I told him I was going to ferry from South Belize to Honduras and miss Guatemala. “You gotta go, it was my favorite Central American country” he says. So here I am.

The mountains intimidated me mainly because I have never rode mountains before. So I did a lot of day trips out of San Cristobal de las Casas and Comitan to get acclimated to climbing. I discovered I needed some lower gearing and got a larger cassette fitted. The nice thing about riding at high alltitudes is that it is COOL, April is the hottest month of the year here, and it is only getting up to 75f to 80f during the day, and it dips into the 40s at nite.

Whenever I had the chance, I asked the Mexicans what they thought about Guatemala. Surprisingly, no one had a bad word to say about Guatemala, “muy tranquilo” they reported. Often countries like to portray their neighbors as troublemakers, but that was not the case with the Mexicans. Next I paid a visit to the Guatemalan consulate in Comitan. The English speaking diplomat was happy to spend a few minutes with me. I asked him what he thought of my plan to ride the Pan American Highway from La Mesilla to Antigua. He had some concerns about the condition of the road and the traffic, but when I explained that I have been dealing with bad roads and traffic since I left Texas his concern was alleviated. “Do you have any reports of crime on the highway?” I asked. ” We have no reports of robbery, but travel in the day just the same” he replied. Hmmm, maybe the Guatemalan bandit is a myth, like the Mexican bandit.

I could only find one report of robbery, and it was a first hand, recent, and personal account. My second day in Mexico I met an American couple, Max and Barb, on motorcycles. They had met on the internet and were riding to Panama together. Three days later they crossed into Guatemala at La Mesilla and encountered bandits. In view of that, I decided to take a bus from the border to Huehuetenango, I wasnt looking forward to the two day, difficult, climb to Huehuetenango anyhow. It will allow me to spend a few days in Huehuetenango and study things a bit before heading out on the Pan Am.

I arrived at the Mexican side of the border at 11:25am, turning in my tourist card and getting my passport stamped took less than a minute, there was no line. There was no exit fee. Four kilometers of “no mans land” seperates the Mexican and Guatemalan imigration offices. It is all uphill, and it is hot again, La Mesilla is at 600 meters. I´m pedaling as fast as I can, the primera clase bus leaves at noon, and it is the only one. It seems like forever to go the distance, I know I am not going to make it, but I just don´t want to accept it. Finally I reach La Mesilla, it is pretty much pandominium, and its a Monday, weekends must be crazy. The immigration office is easy to find, the moneychangers and tramitadors are upon me offering their services, I fear I was a little rude to them, I was pretty stressed out from the exhertion and trying to catch that bus (which I didnt have a prayer of catching, I just didnt want to believe it). I should have resigned myself to missing it and enjoyed the experience and took some pictures. I gave my passport to the offical behind the counter and asked him for many days because I want to see all of his beautiful country. He chuckled, looked at my bicycle, and gave me 90 days. There was no cost. I look at my watch, it is 11:57 and 1k to the bus “station”. There was no sign of the Linea Dorado bus when I got there. I considered my options, next best thing is a collectivo. A considerate guy driving a rickshaw taxi saw I looked confused and frazzled and shut his motor off and asked me what I needed. He said there was only one more collectivo to Huehuetenango and it would not leave till tonight. That left me with two options, chicken bus or spend the nite in La Mesilla-or I could ride the bike, my safety concerns had faded, but I just did not feel like riding my bike up that hot road.

The chicken buses are old school buses from the USA. Of course they are all repainted with bright colors and religious words to live by; and they have a rack on top for luggage. They leave every 20 minutes for Huehuetenango. The only reservation I had about riding one is my bike and trailer needs to go “arriba” (above). For a lot of reasons, it is better for my bike to ride “bajo” (below) like it would on a primera clase bus. I decide to go for it. I disconnect the trailer and a young guy grabbed my 60lbs trailer, threw it on his shoulder, and climbed the ladder up the back of the bus with it. I don´t think I could have done that. I hop on the bus (only gringo of course) and we are off! It says in big script letters down the interior of the bus “God be with us”. Amen. The driver has an assistant who collects the money, deals with the luggage, and stands in the open door shouting WAY WAY! (the destination) to anyone standing by the road. 

A guy named Edwin sits down next to me and we talk all the way to Huehuetenango. I quite enjoyed the ride. I checked into the Hotel California, nice place and real cheap.

I’ve been in Huehuetenango for 3 days, I plan to leave tomorrow and make the two day ride to Xela. I have some first impressions of Guatemala, but I think I will keep them to myself for now, first impressions are sometimes misleading.

 

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