Evening in León

Sometimes the camera does catch the mood of the moment. Or enough to remember it by. In any case, this is one of my favorites. And just to be clear, I did not tweek any of these photos, in any way. The light and colors appear exactly as they were, which really amazes me because they were so theatrical and painterly.

Evening in León - Nicaragua

It was one of four.

Bob Wilkins died today. :(


Nicaragua Leon evening street scene

Hand out

Mary Mungummory waits for her daily hand out at the kitchen door while inside Paloma the dog takes advantage of the distraction to search for scraps on the floor. But, in spite of this apparently homey scene at Monty's Surf Camp, Jiquilillo beach is no animal haven. There, as elsewhere in Centroamerica (and the world) injured, sick, starving, often homeless animals are not only systematically neglected, they are abused. As for the precocious Ms. Mungummory, I have no doubt that one day soon it will be her body roasting on the flame.

It is a bother to notice them. And it is an even bigger bother to actually do something to help one of them. Plus, everything excuses our indifference... poverty, religion, tradition... an indifference that is enshrined in the slag of specieism. But nothing makes it right.

Bird Park blues

Baby Woodstock, summer rescue
The first day of the new year still hangs in rear view mirror but soon it will fade from view like all the others. Today, outside my window, I watched a hawk capture a small bird and carry it off. The Bird Park used to be a refuge for the little guys but last summer was a tipping point and since then it's become a regular hunting ground for the scavengers. Even cats make the rounds. Life. Everyone's food for someone. Except for a few morning peanuts, I stopped putting out food for the big birds but, in the two weeks we've been home, it's clear the word is out.

Today, I feel like I'm on the downside of everything. I don't really like being back. I feel very isolated here but here we are. I know the mood will pass but the fact will not. Anyway, I've been adding a lot of photos to my Centroamerica album on flickr if you're interested.

New Year, 2009

Meet Sweet William, the newest member of the troupe. His origin is shrouded in mystery. All we know is that he crossed the snow-covered mountains of Montana and the vast desert region of the Great Basin to join us, a gift from my son and his lovely wife. No doubt about it. Sweet William is a charmer. Heartbreakingly sweet. Everyone loved him instantly, but tricky old Uncle Monkey had an apple up his sleeve and claimed the honors.

So...
here's to a saner, healthier,
more peaceful future for all
inhabitants of planet Earth
from all of us here at the
Language Barrier & Invisible Theatre.

Come on. Visualize Peace.

Quirky Christmas

Photos from the Petén region in Guatemala, gateway to the ruins of the great Mayan city of Tikal.

I was especially taken by the absurd beer tree perched on the highest point in Flores, the tiny island town where we stayed while visiting Tikal. This island was once the home of the Itza and the site one of the last independent Mayan kingdom, Tayasal. Naturally the Spanish eventually got around to destroying the place, along with the rest of the Mayan world, in the name of god and king. Then went broke.

Guatemalan snowman
where once the mighty Mayan Spaniard stood.

Winter Solstice

Winter solstice is one of my favorite times of year, a time to withdraw, review, recharge, and begin again. Wishing you a peaceful night and wonderful new beginnings on this, our longest night of the year. Cheers.

winter solstice poem poetry

The morning after

Yesterday at the LA airport when the US Customs Officer handed my passport back he smiled and said, "Welcome home". I very nearly shed a tear. If you know me, you know how rare that is unless I am watching a video about suffering animals or a smalchy dog food commercial. Not that I was desperate to get back. I wasn't. In fact, I'm really not even back yet. I am between worlds. Here and there. Last night I dreamt about Centroamerica, the people and places we came to know. The friends we made. The animals, the smoldering volcanoes, the Mayan world, ancient and today. The interesting, sometimes bizarre travelers sharing the road. The horrible (not)cobble stone streets of Antiqua and winchy sidewalks embellished with neck-breaking, jaw-crushing drop-offs and skull-bruising windows overhanging the narrow and wildy irregular passageways. Bar none, the sidewalks in Costa Rica take the tarta. They include sudden, unmarked holes deep enough that Mr. Lee, who is 6'3, could stand upright in some of them and disappear completely from view unless you happen to be standing right at the edge of one of these random and inexplicable gapes. I even miss them. They challenge my Attention Deficit Disorder by turning the simplest Sunday stroll into an adventure dangerous and thrilling enough to rival even the edgiest episode of Survivor. And the mossy, moldy, cracked and crumbling walls being ravaged by trees and sagging under creepers blooming up and over. I especially miss them and the lull of languages, like the language of birds, a welcome hiatus from too much information.

Already the conveniences and routines of life here are reclaiming me from that improvised, life-size, handmade reality that opens and closes like nocturnal flowers. Don't get me wrong. I am glad to be back. Certainly the good ol' EE. UU. (US en Español), is an amazing and wonderful place that I am fortunate to call home. And, yes, it is good to be back to my own language although, of course, we are both going to work on our Spanish every day because we are going back and anyway learning a new language is a good workout for the brain. Certainly traveling to and in Mesoamerica is a huge pain in the ass but the place has gotten in our blood. I don't want my world to be complete without all that chaos and mystery and color and, of course, the sweet empanadas we bought every Sunday from the nice woman who baked them then sold them out of the back of her station wagon while her family sat in the car and waited. And oh... those tasty pineapple tartelettes on special occasions. But this morning, in spite of the nostalgia, I managed to fill the feeders in the Bird Park. No one has discovered it yet but they will. Someone will do a fly-by and discover the payload. Oh yes.

All good things ...

We're home. After 24 hours and three planes, back over deserts and black water, over cities glittering like gold in the dark, after a night in LA, back over clouds and snowy mountains we're home and behind closed doors. It's like being in a dream, or a slow motion movie without sound. We're back in the quiet white house on the street of quiet houses far from the bruised flower crush and swirl of colors, languages, people, the humming streets, markets and parks, and soft voices whispering from the shadows.

Volcan Pacaya

The part we didn't get to. Photo by Issac
Antigua, Guatemala
I just read that volcan Pacaya first erupted 23,000 years ago but we just got there today and M. Lee griped the whole way up and down. This was his second visit and when the guide took us on the short cut instead of the loop trail it really pissed him off. The two of them even got into an argument at the crossroads (in Spanish) which was interesting in itself but to no avail. We missed the ridge view and best approach to the lava field however it didn't end there. On no. By the end of the hike, M. Lee had explained to everyone in the group what the guy had done so no one tipped him although he made a point of shaking all our hands so we could discretely slip him a little cash (which people are generally happy to do for a job well done). When that didn't work, he walked us to the van for a second good-bye. I didn't feel sorry for the guy. He earned it. When he wasn't playing the sport he spent a lot the time talking and texting on his phone. WTF?

Anyway, lava is incredible no matter what. A couple of people set their walking sticks on fire just because they could. The rest of us kept a little distance. It was shoe melting hot. Caliente. Muy muy caliente. Infierno. Hell hot. And dangerous. A sudden shift of direction and all bets would be off. We could see dual rivers of lava coming off the ridge (see photo). Unfortunately, because we had a lazy guide, we were not that high on the slope but hey... lava is lava. Where we were, it had slowed down cooling the surface so that a deathly hot tinkly gray ceramic partially covered the roiling fire flesh from which glowing eyes of flame appeared and disappeared and boulders rose up and broke free. In the hour or so we were there, the front advanced about 50 feet downhill and I suspect that when the guide lit his cigarette on one of the boulders, M. Lee hoped it would reduce his face into bubbly pizza. Just sayin'.

Tikal

Monkeys? Oh yes. Turns out we saw lots of monkeys at Tikal. Howler and Spider monkeys swinging around in the upper canopy, hanging by their tails, lounging on branches, grabbing and shaking tufts of leaves to get the tastiest ones. I could hear them biting and chewing. I could smell the fragrance of the leaves. And even though the zoom on my camera is nothing special, I think I got some cool photos but probably won't post them until after we get home next week. I'm still having connection problems.

There are signs around Tikal that say, "No moleste los animales (Do not bother the animals). There should also be signs that say, No moleste a los humanos. While we were sitting on the top of Temple V, a coatimundi (pizote as they are called in Guatemala) took a special fancy to the peanut butter sandwiches in M. Lee's backpack and was so persistent he even had fantasies of punting the little guy off the structure. That would have sucked. The day didn't start out all that well as it was. We caught the pre-dawn shuttle and along the way we encountered several animals in the road. The first was a mother hen and her chicks. The bus almost squashed them but M. Lee assured me they all got away. I heard them cheeping as we whizzed by. I was sitting in front and next we barreled around a corner and there in the headlights I saw a small white terrified dog cowering before the onrushing bus. He wasn't so lucky. A second later he disappeared beneath the bus and I felt the bump as one of the tires ran over him. It was wrenching. Not long after that, we came upon a band of horses sleeping in the road. One colt in particular was dozing with his nose just on the other side of the center line. I yelled, "Oh shit" as we roared by. I'm not sure the horse even woke up but we didn't hit him.

After the pizote on Temple V, I had my own "nature" experience with one. We were enjoying a mid-morning snack on the steps of another structure. I was feeding the birds, which is bad in itself, when the pizote showed up. Unknown to me there was a bit of a tamale in the side pocket of my backpack but he knew it was there. I was busy photographing him when he rushed me, grabbed my bag with his teeth and tried dragging it away. For a moment, he seemed to contemplate lunging at me but fortunately he didn't.

We spent two days at Tikal and in spite of the women tottering around the Grand Plaza in high heels and guys drinking beer in the shade of Temple of the Grand Jaguar, it was like I hoped, ancient and great, a Mayan metropolis lost and locked away for a thousand years and found in the mist buried beneath by the jungle. It was wonderful. We did our best to get off the beaten track and did. I'll tell you more later but right now, gotta go.

Yaxhá

Isla de Flores, Petén Basin, Guatemala
Today finally we saw monkeys. Monos. Howler and Spider monkeys. Wild. In the trees. Hopping around the forest canopy eating leaves and grooming themselves. And a coatimundi grooming herself on a branch. I did see a monkey in Nicaragua. It was sitting on the frame of a house but I only saw him from the window of a shuttle so M. Lee claims it doesn´t count but I say a monkey is a monkey. It counts. But today we saw lots of monkeys at Yaxhá, a Mayan site in the Petén. A little Yaxhá trivia: this site was the location for a series on the "reality" show Survivor. A group of hot model types spent a couple of months at Yaxhá battling to survive the cut. Anyway, it´s a huge site, some great pyramids and many many more not excavated. And, because Yaxhá gets far fewer visitor than nearby Tikal, it´s a lot easier to catch glimpses of wildlife including crocodiles as it´s built on a lake. No. We didn´t see any crocodiles but we were warned not to swim. Muy peligroso! Here´s a tip. You can stay at Yaxhá for free in their ecco village. It´s primitive. Hammocks (bring your own) under a thatch roof with mosquito netting but then you´d have a real chance of even seeing jaguars in the evening. Tomorrow Tikal will be crawling with humans so I doubt we´ll see much wildlife there but I am hoping for a few wild parrots because this is all the jungle time we get this trip. One can hope.

Bus to Tikal

Antigua, Guatemala
This evening we leave for Tikal which is north along the Beliz border in the Petén Basin. The bus leaves from Guatemala City at 10 pm. It's an 8 hour trip to the Island of Flores, jumping off place for the area. Can't say I'm looking forward to that but that is less than half the time it took going one way to Nicaragua so no problema. I could do it standing on my head. And this time I bought Dramamine. We're traveling on Auto Bus de Norte. It's considered a "luxury line", this in comparison to travel by chicken bus. I don't expect it to be luxurious, any more than the King Quality bus from hell, but "luxury" buses are safer in general and that is an issue.

When we hiked Cerro Negro in Nicaragua our guide, an American kid from LA, told us that the previous week he'd said good-bye to a friend of his, a young Dutch fellow and fellow volunteer at Quetzal Trekkers, who left for Guatemala on a chicken bus. Unfortunately for everyone involved, a gang of drug dealers hijacked the bus when it got to Guatemala, killed all 21 people on board, including his friend, beheaded one of the victims, drove the bus in a rival gang's territory and torched it. Chalk up another tragedy to the bullshit US "War on Drugs". Prohibition does not work. We should have learned that in the 20's during the alcohol prohibition. It's not a moral issue. It's the goddamn Bottom Line. Astronomical profit. How else are these gang members going to make millions? Not selling jewelery to the tourists. All drug prohibition does is feed the mafia and leave heartbreaking wreckage in its wake. Ok.

Enjoy your day. Hasta luego.

Saturday notes on the fly

Antigua, Guatemala
I hope you had a happy thanksgiving. We didn't do anything special here. It's no big deal in this part of the world, a fact I find very refreshing. We did, however, have treats. My pick... cheesecake but it turned out to be cloyingly sweet. So far the pastry in Centroamerica has been way too sweet for my taste. Babyland.

Our time is winding down here. We return to the states in about two weeks. Yikes! I'm not quite ready to go back into the box but, on the other hand, I look forward to seeing family over the holidays. There are a couple of things we still want to do before we go, visit Tikal and volcan Pacaya. We're planning to leave for Tikal at the beginning of the week. All in all, that trip will take about four days. And, before we return home, we want to climb Pacaya, a volcano just outside of Antigua. It's a short hike. M. Lee did it once already a couple of months ago but I was in school that day. Gotta see it. Lava pours right out of the earth and you can get as close as you want. If you´re a fire walker this is the place to be, or if you´ve ever wanted to roast a marshmallow over a volcano. Me? I just like lava and in Guatemala you can walk right up to it. This is a world that lawyers have not managed to strangle the life out of yet.

We did climb volcan Cerro Negro while were were in Nicaragua but I haven't gotten around to writing about that yet and so many other things. However, I did post some photos from Cerro Negro on Flickr if you're interested. There are more to come but now my camera isn't showing up on any computer. So it goes. I'll have to do a retrospective after I get home.

Other than that, last night some of my dreams were in Spanish. Oh, and I finally understand the answer to the age old question... Why did the chicken cross the road? Yes.

There and back again or so it seems

Antigua, Guatemala

After a 17 hour bus trip, during which I had an 11 hour bout of motion sickness because the first leg of the winding road was in a lumbering, smelly, double decker bus driven by a lead-footed pinhead who obviously thought it was a taxi in rush hour, we're back in Antigua under the same gray skies we left a month ago, our time in hot hot Nicaragua a phantasmagoria of images, smells, tastes, sounds, textures, and memories of several delightful friendships made along the way, including Paloma the dog. I´m still having trouble accessing my photos. I now have about 3000 on the 8 gig card in my camera so the cafe computers get hung trying to access them. I swear, we both swear, this is the_last_time we travel without laptops. But, in case we do, I did finally get a pro flicker account and from now on will (once I upload these) upload photos regularly instead of waiting until there are so many they would choke a elephant. Bad metaphor. Sorry elephants.

Anyway... about Nicaragua...
From Chinandega we did make it to the beach. Jiquilillo (He-key-leo). We didn't stay at Rancho Esperanza but that's the place I´d recommend. Nate, the owner/manager is a great guy and from there you'll get the purest experience of the place. On his recommendation we hired a local guy, Eddy, to guide us on a boat trip through the Padre Ramos Estuary, an irreplaceable, endangered wetlands reserve in Jiquilillo. Eddy is another great guy (28) who, since SELVA pulled out because of Nicaragua´s political instability, is waging what is basically a single-handed battle to save the estuary that is, among other things, the traditional nesting ground for endangered sea turtles.

Before leaving Nicaragua, we saw ongoing demonstrations in both León and Managua, the capital city. They were a drag. Sunday afternoon, M. Lee walked to the bus terminal to get our tickets for the next day and on the way back to the hostel found himself in the midst of a mob of masked protesters firing morter guns and being generally shitheads in any way they could. The blasts went on for hours. Seems they need to intimidate the losing side which is protesting the fact that the elections were not monitored or transparent.


Ironically, the next evening just after dark as the bus wound its way north through the mountains, I glimpsed two huge white Brahmas bedded down peacefully under the trees by the foot path through a small yard leading to an open air thatched roof hut. The family was gathered around the cook fire on the porch as the cows chewed their cuds in the yard. It was one of the most tranquil scenes I´ve ever witnessed.

Tonight, after the usual round of explosives, the bells of La Merced are engaged in a sad duet. I am awash with fragmented impressions, and detached memories. Anything is possible. At the moment, I´m not even sure which world I live in.

Sunday aftermath

León, Nicaragua.
Today we are hanging out online. Suits me. There is a big FLSN parade streaming by the door as I write this and small bombs going off to whistles, shouts and the barking of dogs. The riot police are out enforce. Seeing them is small comfort. The elections did not go well last week so there is a lot of unrest throughout Nicaragua. Shit. One of our friends at La Tortuga is a Chilean fellow. He grew up with this crap and is very nervous today. It doesn't settle too well with me either. Things are raw here. Centroamerica is not a tidy place. Things are exaggerated, over blown, past ripe. Life is in the streets. Its wild beauty and grace have a corresponding shadow of chaos and despair.

Otherwise, I am melted to a sticky pile of sweat. Showers don´t help. A second later, I am again a sticky, sweaty blob. And I have become addicted to ice cream. So it goes now that the rainy season has finally ended. What was I thinking? Well, gotta go. Keep the home fires burning.

Chinandega

Chinandega, Nicaragua.... So today, back out into the current that flows past our quiet blue room at La Tortuga Booluda, back out onto the road leaving. A cab stops in the middle of the street. We throw our bags in and go. He takes us to the market where we grab a shuttle which takes us out to the highway, trash piled along the side, lined with blooming fence posts. We converge with trucks, bicycles, cars, foot traffic, hand-made carts pulled by half-dead horses... all moving together, a dark flow crossing the smelly gray river, one great hydra-headed body decorated with moons, stars, galaxies, universes moving... always in the same direction... to Chinandega, the hottest city in Nicaragua. Chinandega, where a hen and rooster are shackled together beside three women sitting at a table on the median strip in the road. Chinandega, where life is just a way of keeping the meat fresh until it's time to eat.

Notes on the fly

León, Nicaragua. So far, León is my favorite city in Centroamerica, maybe even throwing in Mexico, except for Oaxaca. The rainy season was looking like it was coming to a close but when we had decided to go to a surf camp on the coast a hurricane blew into the gulf and now threatens to ruin everything. We are going anyway. We got a very special deal through a couple of Canadians we met in Antigua. They know a Canadian guy who opened this place a couple of years ago and, because we know them, he gave us the same super deal he gave them. Sounds too good to be true and you know how that goes, but what the hell? After all, what could possibly go wrong?

Other than that, I haven't found a computer since leaving Antigua that will let me get my hands on my photos. Another opportunity to practice acceptance and patience. Wonderful. I have some notes about Granada and León but probably won´t get around to posting them until we get back from the coast as supposedly there will be no internet or phones there. Maybe later tonight.

Until then, as travelers must do, I will make things do double duty and use words from an email I sent my family.

Election night we were in Granada watching with our house mates at Casa Ernesto. At 11 pm, when CNN announced that Obama the winner, we clapped and cheered along with the rest of the world. Finally, collectively, we mustered the courage to rise above the hate and fear mongering of the radical right to reset the course for America and hopefully the world. Before the election seemed everyone we met in Nicaragua brought up the election. They all, without exception, liked him. Even a couple of kids sitting on a street corner in Granada reminded us to "vote for Barack on Tuesday". Since the election, we are like heroes around here. People have come up to us on the street and to say how happy they are that America elected Obama. A family sitting in their rocking chairs in the evening smiled from their porch, yelled "Obama" and give us the Thumbs Up. Shopkeepers and street vendors have told us how grateful they are Barack was elected president. On the other hand, seems things are kind of edgy around the White House these days, as White House correspondent Jon Decker discovered. Barney lashes out.

As for me, I am thrilled that some unsuspecting homeless shelter pup is going to be our First Pup!

Anyway, I just read this article at Salon that I think details some of the static that's existed between our different generations on these strange things called hope and change (as well as between my own ears) and thought maybe one or two of you might like to read it as well.

Apology. (Click through the ad. Button in top, right hand corner)

So that's it for now. We've gotta get ready to leave in the morning. Hasta luego.

Volcanos and gallo pinto

Fast Eddie's photo Not mine.

Granada, Nicaragua. We're back in Granada. Ometepe was a bust. I found the photo at Fast Eddie's blog. I'll post my own rainy season version of the dual volcanoes later. The thing about the rainy season is that it is a Season of Rain. Lluvia. Not a rainy day. Not a rainy week. Or month. The rainy season is six months of rain and what happens after six months of rain? Visit Ometepe is you have any questions. I think this is the last time we will travel in the tropics during the rainy season. Yes, it's cooler and yes, it's cheaper and yes, it's not overrun with tourists but for a reason. In the rainy season the tropics are a Mess.

In our defense, traveling at this time of year was not our first choice this time. We had to bump our plans back from last spring. We've done the rainy season before, during 2005, the year of Katrina which trashed New Orleans and Wilma which trashed the Yucatán. We were in the Yucatán, under Katrina's outer whips so when Wilma hit, it was the last straw. It chased us off the muddy, trash strewn Caribbean and home with vows to never return in the rainy season. But the fates conspired against us.

Ometepe was miserable. I didn't even get one decent photo of either volcano. Both were shrouded with their cloud forests. The first clue that is was not in peak form was that the ferry terminal was flooded. To disembark, we had to walk across a makeshift sandbag sea wall. I'll insert the photos later. The shuttle driver warned us that the caminos were malo, the roads were bad. Very bad. Mucho agua. Still, we had to see for ourselves. We harbored hopes of finding a tranquil hideaway in spite of it all. But he was right. The water level of Lake Cocibolca is so high from months of rain that the nice sand beaches it is so famous for are all under water, the roads are muddy ruts and the lovely trails winding through the howler monkey jungle are flooded. After a couple hours of grinding through the sludge and visiting soggy hotels we decided to go back to Moyogalpa and return to the mainland on the morning ferry. On the way back, the shuttle got stuck in the mud so, along with the help of some kids and finally the policía nacional who happened by, we helped the driver dig it out.

But it wasn't all bad. Max, the driver, made a week's pay. We managed to get settled in a nice hotel just up from the ferry terminal, moments before the afternoon torrent. And after the rain, we got pizza at a restaurant with a dirt floor, got to sleep early and grabbed the six am ferry for the two hour trip back to the mainland this morning.

After the ferry docked we got a taxi to the bus station. That driver tried to scare us into having him drive us all the way back to Granada, a thirty dollar trip. He told us there wouldn't be a bus for three hours. We ignored him. The Granada bus waiting at the terminal. We hopped on and enjoyed another lovely two hour, two dollar trip back through the trash strewn country side, past countless starving dogs and smoldering piles of household plastics. We got back to Granada in time for breakfast at Nica Buffet, not a buffet but a great hole in the wall cafe owned by Ed, a cheery old Dutch fellow (that's him in white in the left hand side of the photo, who remembers that I like coffee con leche and we both like No. 21, the Nica breakfast of plantains, gallo pinto, and the eggs scrambled. Home. Don't bother to go there from the 4th to the 20th of November. He'll be away on vacation. Possibly the Corn Islands. We may be there too. Anyway, after breakfast we went home to Ernesto's. More about Ernesto later.



Need a happy ending?
Mr. Bones has left the building.

Notes on the fly

Granada, Nicaragua

We've been in Nicaragua for about a week and are finally getting adjusted to the heat, humidity and pace. Very very poor country; second only to Haiti in the region. There is no opportunity. Fifty percent unemployment. Bright, personable, able-bodied young people everywhere with zero opportunity. It's heartbreaking.

Usually, markets are the colorful heart of the city. Unfortunately Granada's dark market is an explosion of filth and chaos. The place is jarring, death's presence is so intimate and the suffering so tangible that I feel grossly irreverent, sacrilegious, being there as an outsider, an observer. I don't see how this town will ever attain the coveted status of tourist attraction until they somehow manage to change it. Apparently the town has been trying to get people to move to a new location but nobody wants to go.

Sorry. Gotta go. Time's up here. Tomorrow we leave for Ometepe, an island in Lake Cocibolca with dual volcanoes, one living and one dead. More later.

Hasta mañana

Antigua, Guatemala. Still trying to catch up with myself, so here are a few more photos from this last month.

Tienda

Tienda from within

Maya women at La Merced

Fellow Spanish students

Living and the dead

Child in the ruins

Rainy season

Antigua vendadora

Perfunctory shot of El Arco and volcano

Furniture mover

Coming to the end

Rainy season is finally nearing the end and we were planning to leave for Nicaragua this morning but things got messed up. We were overcharged $60 for the bus tickets on King Quality so today the guy is back in Guatemala City redoing it. Tickets can not be purchased or upgraded via fax, phone or online. King Quality insist on someone showing up in person, with passport copies. So it goes.

Stairs to our apartment, Casa Luna

You might wonder why we are going to all the bother and expense to go executive class but it's a 17 hour trip, longer if you count the shuttles on both ends, and the seats are supposed to be more comfortable.

Roof top neighbors

We have really enjoyed our stay at Casa Luna. It's a small place, six rooms, and very quiet. We stayed in the roof top room which is up a narrow iron spiral staircase. It has its own small garden and great view which we shared with a couple of Boxers, one roof top over. Mario, the owner, is a great guy, speaks fluent English and is very helpful whenever anyone has a question or problem. I highly recommend the place.

Charles, assistant editor La Cuadra

M. Lee, Sunday walk

Our room, Casa Luna

No time rest

Sorry to break focus here but I feel compelled to pass along this email I just received from MoveOn. I hope you will pass it along as well. It just takes a minute. We can't let the bastards screw us again. There is far too much at stake.

TOP 5 REASONS OBAMA SUPPORTERS SHOULDN'T REST EASY

1. The polls may be wrong. This is an unprecedented election. No one knows how racism may affect what voters tell pollsters—or what they do in the voting booth. And the polls are narrowing anyway. In the last few days, John McCain has gained ground in most national polls, as his campaign has gone even more negative.

2. Dirty tricks. Republicans are already illegally purging voters from the rolls in some states. They're whipping up hysteria over ACORN to justify more challenges to new voters. Misleading flyers about the voting process have started appearing in black neighborhoods. And of course, many counties still use unsecure voting machines.

3. October surprise. In politics, 15 days is a long time. The next McCain smear could dominate the news for a week. There could be a crisis with Iran, or Bin Laden could release another tape, or worse.

4. Those who forget history... In 2000, Al Gore won the popular vote after trailing by seven points in the final days of the race. In 1980, Reagan was eight points down in the polls in late October and came back to win. Races can shift—fast!

5. Landslide. Even with Barack Obama in the White House, passing universal health care and a new clean-energy policy is going to be hard. Insurance, drug and oil companies will fight us every step of the way. We need the kind of landslide that will give Barack a huge mandate.

Antigua photos

Antigua, Guatemala

Roy, this one's for you....

Chicken bus in the rain

Antigua, Guatemala. Tropical Depression 16 and it's gray buckets of daily rain have pushed my travel wardrobe to the brink even though I packed for the rainy season. All in all, my backpack weighs a mere 22.6 lbs, my carry on bag maybe another 7 or 10 lbs and my purse, stuffed to capacity, perhaps another 3 or 5. That's it. But I brought two light weight, poly, long sleeved pullovers and, thank the gods for them, I am (barely) squeaking by. Yesterday in class I wore four layers, including my raincoat, for the whole session. My desk was just under the roof and right next to the giant roofless courtyard in the center of the school. Naturally, the whole school is open air because it is, after all, the tropics, so the rain was an arm's length away. And this morning? Rain. But today, no matter. I am happy anyway. Even though I only went for three weeks, it's like the first day of summer vacation, we are at a great internet cafe, with a wonderful open air courtyard garden restaurant five feet away, and with the help of M. Lee, I finally managed to access my photos.

Chicken bus, Antigua

This photo was a lucky shot because, blurred as it is, it captures the hellish reality of the "chicken buses". Granted, they are wildly colorful and dedicated to saints, mothers, daughters, and wifes, and protected by numerous dangling religious icons and filled past capacity, with many people in traditional, colorful Mayan dress, and there are chickens and baskets of aromatic, steaming, home-cooked food and shawls and headdresses full of jewelery and hand-woven cloth of many colors bound for the market and streets and you might consider the buses merely picturesque, if only a little dangerous careening around corners. Unfortunately, gangsters shake down the drivers on a regular basis and those who do not, or can not, pay their "protection fee" are murdered. A young guy, 28, was recently shot to death here in Antigua because he didn't have enough money to meet their demands, and the newspaper included a long list of other victims from this year alone. A couple of thugs were arrested but everyone knows nothing has changed. So, if you decide to ride a chicken bus for the fun of it, please do not deny the driver his tip. His life actually depends on it.

more photos to come...