Shell on 2 wheels: Southern Guatemala

Guatemalan kids in traditional dress. A photo of a photo.

The Washing Women

Women gather at the outdoor public washrooms to hand wash clothes on the washboards.

I know it might seem strange to say that one of the highlights of Southern Guatemala was the washing women, but it left such an impression on me that I thought it was a good place to start. Villages we passed each had a central outdoor washing reservoir. Women gathered in the mornings to hand wash huge piles of dirty clothes. We learned later that poor women earn a living by washing clothes of richer families.

A social gathering every morning.

Many women had little bundles of babies tied to their backs in blankets. Toddlers were put to sit on empty washboards and given empty packets of washing detergent to play with. As in so many developing countries children sit quietly and amuse themselves with the simplest of toys.

I suppose the reason why I felt captivated by this simple daily activity (I could have stood and observed for hours) was a combination of things. The camaraderie. The ferocity of the scrubbing. The multi-tasking, breastfeeding babies while chatting while scrubbing. The daily grind. The fact that washing clothes is solely a woman's job in Guatemala.

Women chatted happily to their neighbours as the scrubbed with brushes. I wanted to ask if each lady had their own washboard which they came back to every day so they could be beside their friends and catch up on the gossip. But of course I couldn't ask. I felt I was intruding a little, so I tried to take a few bad photos standing far enough back that I wasn't seen.

Hauling bikes onto the back of a truck - no problemo.

On our last day cycling into Antigua having struggled up two 5km climbs we knew we wouldn't make it Patzun, the next town, by nightfall. It was at the top of a 3rd 5km climb. While Rosalinde was flying up the hills with her 13kg bike and 15kgs of luggage (I made her carry all the food), I was slow as a snail on my 16.5kg bike carrying about 20kgs of luggage.

There was no other choice but to stick out our thumb and try and hitch a life. Within five milliseconds a knight in shining armour appeared around the corner and within another five milliseconds had two bikes and six pannier bags secured to a tree in the back of his truck. He drove like a maniac up and down some of the steepest gradients I have ever seen in a truck held together by twine it seemed, but we sat up front thrilled to bits.

Front right wing mirror is hanging on literally by a thread.

Wonderful Guatemalan night life. We wandered and shared all sorts of
street food from lots of different stalls.

Antigua

The pair of us arrived into Antigua the night before Rosalinde was due to fly home. We booked ourselves into our one and only hotel room of the trip for a bargained-down rate of 20usd. It was bliss. We wandered through the cobble stoned streets and artisan markets gorging on Antigua's famous sweet breads.

Inside a chicken bus in Guatemala. Never a dull moment.

Beautiful old ruins all over the city of Antigua.

Low rise housing and no gaudy street signs. Even McDonalds looks like a classy joint.

Three volcanos surround Antigua.

Antigua vieja. A suburb.

Hitting the road again
After Rosalinde left I didn't know quite where to turn. Suddenly there I was in southern Guatemala without a plan. Noone else was coming to visit so I didn't have to be anywhere at any time and I must say I felt a little lost. I almost felt that I was too far into the trip to early. But that doesn't make sense either as this trip has neither plan nor schedule. Suddenly this winging it business, mentality made me feel a little unsure of my next step.

The original plan was to ride from Vancouver to the Panama Canal and then perhaps head back to Europe once the money had run out. That was, of course, unless I came across some irresistible opportunity en route which I just couldn't turn down. But I still had more than 1000 euros in the bank account which I knew would last me 3-4 months with only a few little countries to pedal through. A mere 2000kms left. If I put my head down I knew I could be in Panama in 8 weeks.

I thought about taking a couple of overnight buses back into the heart of Mexico. I had skipped such a large chunk of the country by flying to Cancun and somehow I just didn't feel finished with Mexico. But getting a bus backwards felt wrong also. Mexico is such a bicycle touring paradise that I also knew I'd be back. Maybe for a Mexico only bike tour. It's such a great country. So diverse, so poor, so interesting, so cheap, so colourful, so full of weird and wonderful festivals and customs, so full of kind happy helpful people wishing you well on your way at every moment. I thought I'd use some mindfulness tools from the Californian Buddhist monastery and just be happy exactly where I was.

After a couple of weeks with this dilemma swishing around in my brain I have actually worked out why I feel so unsettled. Now it may sound weird but actually if you want to ride from Vancouver to Panama you need to first ride down the west coast of the US, N->S, then down the 2000km of Baja California N->S but you then need to ride 3000kms across the Mexican mainland W->E and then kind of NW->SE through Central America. In my head I was just going from N->S on this whole trip but because the world is round it doesn't work like that. On a poster of the world South America sits neatly under Central America which sits neatly under North America. But on a round globe Colombia actually sits under New York. It may sound like total rubbish but actually once I figured this out I felt a little more settled.

Story of a Guatemalan family

The kindest souls, Hilda and Antonio who gave me a bed and air con for a night.

So I rode S to the Pacific Coast from Antigua, a delightful four hours of downhill. Arriving in the village of Laguna El Comendador at 4.30pm started as any normal evening on the road. I had spotted a church on the banks of the laguna so I headed to the village shop in search of the person who might have the key. Antonio, above, was in charge of the church key but instead of giving me the key he offered me a bed. After a long cold shower a plate containing one entire fried fish was placed in front of me. Antonio had caught it that day in the laguna and Hilda seemed only too delighted to have someone to cook it for.

After dinner we sat in the living room, watched a Guatemalan soap opera together and chatted. Hilda was the only one to sit on the sofa, I was sitting ON the air conditioner and Antonio was rocking in his hammock in the middle of the living room. It's so lovely to get a window into family life in Guatemala in such a way.

The couple left this village in the early 80's. They left behind two children aged 7 and 4 with granny. They headed for California in search of work. It was easier to get into the US in those days they said. Antonio is a carpenter and worked in construction, Hilda is a nurse so found it easy to get work. She told me that the hourly wage of 22usd for working in a nursing home was a small fortune. At night she also worked in a doughnut bakery. She told me she makes a mean doughnut.

I'm sure it's such a typical Guatemalan story. After eight years and recognised as American citizens they came back to collect their two children. Their now three grown up children all live in the US, are married to Guatemalans they met there and have between them 4 children. Hilda and Antonio decided five years ago to move home. They had no medical insurance and couldn't take the risk of getting sick in the US. Their three kids each phone home every day.

Hilda showed me a huge box that she recently received from one of her kids. Among other things it contained a microwave oven and zip lock bags of various sizes. Hilda sends her kids packages of food and always includes local honey in the package. She can send it in such as way that her kids pay for the freight on receipt of the package. Their kids send home money via Western Union. They are not wealthy but have enough and with 3 bathrooms I'm sure have the nicest house in the village - US style. They are comforted by the fact that if they get sick they can afford to go to the doctor.

And yet they sit at home most evenings, they don't go to village parties or gatherings in case there are shootings. They live in a house with no glass in the windows but with iron bars. CCTV cameras surround the house which is also supervised by a mean looking pit bull dog. They felt safer in the US but they can afford medical bills here. It sure is a crazy world we live in. Hilda cried as I left the following morning. I think I reminded her of one of her children and she couldn't bare the thought of me cycling alone through Central America. She gave me a little wooden cross and insisted I wear it around my neck at all times. It's meeting and spending time with kind generous people such as Hilda and Antonio that makes touring by bike so special.