I'll remember the kindness of others with every sip.... (posting from the road)

Mornings in the clinic seemed to be drag...I would look out the window of the school/pharmacy at the field of coffee beans, annoyed at the irony of no access to a Grande Americano but yet surrounded with potentially satisfying coffee beans.

I even went so far as to verbalize my daydream...a group of fatigued volunteer workers are sitting around a makeshift clinic...unsure as to how they can go on when they are this tired...and then, out of the fog...bouncing along the rocky roads surrounded by fields of coffee beans...a pickup truck full or Starbucks workers, clad in their green aprons, would arrive with a tray full of delicious, caffeinated beverages. I think it would make a great commercial. I waited and waited, but alas...yet another dream unfulfilled. I somehow made it through that morning, and many since, without access to a Starbucks (or similar type coffee shop). We did have coffee every morning but I am afraid that my time in Seattle has ruined me...I have become a coffee snob (still will gulp down a Tim's double double however) and need my Americanos. Our final day of isolation in the Guatemalan hills was complicated by faulty buses resulting in a delayed departure which necessitated a lunch stop in, Conception, a suburb of Guatemala City. So as our replacement bus wheeled into the parking lot of Pollo Campero (Central American KFC) I was shocked to hear Joe call out "hey there's a Starbucks". There is no Starbucks in Guatemala - believe me I checked. Assuming that Joe was mistaken, I peaked around the corner...just in case.

Like a thirsty man in the desert - an oasis stood before me. The familiar green umbrellas and distinctive font drew me closer as I darted down the block for the door. I was surprised by the two Starbucks employees outside of the store, greeters I figured, as I politely tried to elbow them aside for a chance at a delicious sip. Turns out they were evil dream stealing 'gatekeepers'. The Starbucks in front of me, directly in front of me, the first in Guatemala, opens tomorrow! Not today, tomorrow! I was almost speechless and stood there slack-jawed at the gatekeepers politely tried to turn me away. I even explained that I was from Seattle - this impressed them enough to call some of their coworkers to meet me but not enough to let me in the doors or sell me a mug or beverage.

Dejected I returned to Pollo Campero and to the back of the line which had apparently not budged in my absence. I am so close - I cannot give up! I have amassed a very impressive collection of Starbucks mugs from around the world, if I can't get a drink at least let me get the mug. I really, really, really WANT that mug! And if I have learnt one thing it's that with enough money, you can buy anything. So I ran back down to the store, in the searing heat, as a cynical capitalist and explained to the "gatekeepers" that I really wanted that mug. I offered to give them 3x the value of the mug - they could take the cash now and ring up the mug later - leaving them to do what you want with the extra funds. The gatekeeper (who really was very sweet) went inside with the money to try and locate a manager and explain the predicament of the ranting, panting reddened tourist outside, thus leaving me to man the door. I must say, with my limited Spanish, I did a very good job...I explained to all the fellow caffeine seekers who tried to enter, that the store was open the next day and encouraged everyone to return - I even explained in broken Spanish that reservations were not necessary.

The manager, with a stern look on his face, soon appeared and as he looked down on me with his hands clasped behind his back - I knew the answer was 'no'. He glazed at me a little puzzled and enquired as to if I was the girl desperate for a mug. I stated my case; (he spoke perfect English) that I collect mugs from Starbucks all over the world and that I didn't even think that there was a Starbucks in Guatemala and that I had been daydreaming about them for weeks and that I was from Seattle and...how I would pay whatever he asked and...let's just say I went on and on. The manager's face broke into a huge grin as he pulled from behind his back a mug for me! The sweet gatekeeper who had been so helpful returned the cash. They stated that this was the first mug for the country and that it was only fitting to go to someone who wanted it so badly and was an avid collector from Seattle. It was something small for them to do but it made my day and cemented my loyalty. I was impressed with the kindness of the folks at the Starbucks and embarrassed at my cynical attitude.

The manager told me that they have a Facebook Page - I am encouraging all of you to "like" them, they certainly have earned it. Thank you in advance.

Team Pharmacy (posting from the road)

This isn't a story about an adverture or mishap of mine (there are plenty of other posts for that). This is about a few of my amazing coworkers that I could never say good bye to, it will always be "see you later"...

Every now and then you get a chance to work or travel with a group or people and just mesh. I was fortunate this group to be able to weasel my way into that group, the pharmacy team.
Some of you who know me are surly thinking - wait a minute other than taking drugs, you know nothing about pharmacy - and you would be right. But the pharmacy is the only team that gets to organize little bags of pills into big hanging shoe bags, something I happen to love to do. Plus I get to help design the flow, which changes everyday...all areas that play to my strength of being bossy. There are actual people trained in the area of pharmacy for the details, all of them are equally extraordinary.

Gary - good natured, disturbingly laid back and probably the humblest person I have ever met. I don't even know the half of what he has done but I do know that this entire trip could not have taken place without his generosity. He is a trained pharmacist and would revel in my shock as he identified pills by taste. Allowing the 'junior' pharmacists and myself to run the department, this left Gary out in the waiting area explaining to the people how and when to take the medications. Although an interpretor was available, by the end you could hear this thick Texan accent, spouting out Spanish directions as cute Guatemalan women would gaze at him with a bit of a crush. This is one of the best people I have ever encountered.

Kristen - tiny, initially shy, painfully thin vegetarian. One day poor Kristen became sick and I worried as she literally has no reserves to draw from, but she proved to be strong. And snlike most people in the world who seem to speak just to hear themselves talk, Kristen spoke very occassionally...but when she did it was a fantastic combination of insightful, thoughtful sarcasm. She does an amazing British accent and could give seminars in bug spray application.

Megan - I have to say if she weren't Gary's daughter I would hate her. She is beautiful and has this annoyingly dazzling smile. She is also kind, smart and funny - wait it gets worse - she works hard and has a devious side (I am referring to the clown eyes here Megan). We had that connection where we could galnce and each other and the joke could pass unsaid. She is everything that I have always wanted to be. So I remain jealously in awe of her.

Charlie - Gary isn't his Dad but he reminds me of a younger version - he's that good. He can make me laugh by his facial expressions alone. His fear of clowns kept the rest of the team amused for days and despite our constant torment he never once broke - and we worked clowns into every aspect of a pharmacy possible. Plus with a name like Charlie and that You Tube video, "Charlie bit me", coupled with the fine British accents of my coworkers - well, you can see how I am amazed he never snapped.

I am thankful that I had a chance to go to Guatemala, meet and treat some of the many people in need there. It truly is an honour that I know many of you would do if you could. What made it amazing for me this time was that I was able to go with Team Pharmacy. From the daily struggles of where to string our rope versus the correct placement of the PUMP hand sanitizer, Guatemala would not have been the same without you. There is only one word for you guys that sums it all up..."massage".

A tortilla not even a monkey could love...(posting from the road)

Due to a strike by the health department, one of our clinics was in the small town of Jocatan - I tell you this so the story makes more sense...

Dr. Tom Dean is generally fairly good-natured, so I knew things we bad when I walked upon Tom pulling his hair out and a little Guatemalan women, with her back clearly to Tom, refusing to speak to him any longer. Brief summary: 65 y.o. women who was going blind because of cataracts. This is an easy fix and Tom found a facility in a town, not too far away that will perform the surgery. (Tom and Carrie had actually volunteered to pay for the entire procedure and all follow-up care) All the women had to do was, with her daughter, physcally go to the appointments. The woman said 'no' because her daughter had to make the toritillas and no one loved her. We asked the women to go and get her daughter, bring her to the clinic so we could talk to her directly. Again, the answer was 'no' because she maintained that her daughter had to make the torillas! It was clear that speaking directly to the daughter would be the best option...so Bekkah and I volunteered to leave with the lady and send the daughter back to the clinic.

It really seemed like a very simple plan. Things went wrong when, a block away from the clinic, I heard the little blind lady ask a stranger "donde est mercado?". Great - our guide is now asking for directions to the market that she is leading us to.

Luckily the town is fairly small and with the aid of a few strangers we were able to stumble upon the market...the old blind lady was able to lead us to her daughter - in the bowels of the market in a dark, hot, smoke filled room. I attmepted to explain to the daughter that it was necessary for her to go to the clinic and set up treatment for her mother. All I recieved in return were blank stares...luckily Bekkah was there and she gently explained to me that I was most likely speaking French, whatever it was it certainly wasn't Spanish. Bekkah turned out to be a fantastic person to get caught with me in this situation - not only did she speak the correct language but she was also willing to stay with me...

That's right, the only way we could convince the lady to leave market was if we manned the tortilla stand. So a clear agreement in place - the daughter would accompany her mother to the clinic at the church and Bekkah and I would run the tortilla stand...fell apart when it turned out the daughter did not know the location of the church! Clearly her blind mother would be of no use, so now Bekkah and I had to run through the market and find a person who knew how to give the directions, drag them back to the tortilla stand and have them explain the location. Just before her departure, the women seemd to have cold feet with this plan to leaving us in charge...I tried to quell it my explaining that I was good at making tortillas, "Soy bueno tortilla" - which actually transplates into "I'm a good tortilla". So her apprehension was clearly justifiable, but they did finally leave - just in time for the lunch run.

Note - you should all respect tortilla makers more than you do - it is really hard. Bekkah turned out to be better, marginally, then I at pounding and shaping the dough - so she managed that station leaving me to try and cook the tortillas over an open fire.

I had carefully watched the lady, who patiently stood there, next to the fire, with all of it's smoke billowing, and flipped the tortillas BY HAND. Too hot for me and smokey for me; I developed a new system of running up to the fire with a long knife while holding my breath, flip a tortilla and then run away to try and get fresh air. It was generally unsuccessful and my eyes waterered profoundly.

As disasterous as our tortilla making (generally thicker and lumpier then the sample tortillas) was, it turns out our vending was even worse. Somehow we had the impression that we were to sell the tortillas for 7 quetzales (about $1.25 US) each - it seemed a little high to me but maybe the mark-up was due to the fact that they were Gringo made...

Our ineptness seemed to have been recognized by a fellow vendor who jumped in to try and help us with the sales (turns out the tortillas are 3 for 1 quetzales (or 3 for $0.12 USD). Ooops. This lady stood and stared at us - Bekkah hands covered in dough with her fat, lumpy tortillas and me with grasping a huge knife with tears streaming down my face next a fire with some burnt fat lumpy tortillas. She muttered something in Mayan Spanish and then set about the task of trying to save her friends business, with us demoted to "junior tortilla helpers".

A few minutes later the women and her mother returned. The lady looked at us and actually said "thank you for.....". I think she may have teared up as much as I was at the lumpy tortillas that were present. Guilt was too much for us and we bought all the tortillas that we made from this lady, and then some.

With sixty tortillas in hand we bid farewell to the lady (who I am happy to report is going to accompany her mother to the city so her mother's blindness will be avoided!) and returned to our fellow Gringos to share with them a delicious lunch of tortillas. Some people were nice enouth to pretend to like them, a few even managed to get a whole tortilla down but there were still heaps at the end of the day. Bekkah and I did not want our hard earned tortilla making to go to waste so we decided to donate the leftovers to Poncha, the resident Spider Monkey at our Guatemalan home.

Early the next morning I went to Poncha's cage, eager for her to try a bite of my tortilla. No word of a lie, the monkey that I have seen personally drink Purell, broke off a piece of tortilla, examine it, smell it and then throw it on the ground before giving me a look that clearly stated how pissed she was that I tired to feed her this trash.

So there you have it a tortilla not even a monkey could love.

The greatest gift I ever refused...(posting from the road)

I'm going to try and tame the Sally Stuthers lecture here...apologies in advance if a little seeps out.

I was really nervous about today, the last time I participated in an Embrace day I ended up arrested, so I think that my apprehesion was justifiable. Happy to report that after the 'incident' four years ago, the practice of dragging mountain kids to a 'big' city and force feeding them fried chicken has been drastically altered - we now remain on the compund grounds, paired 2 adults to 1 child - we play games, do crafts and then take the kids to a local hot spring in the afternoon. This year we also had the opporuntity to return to the child's home and meet the family.

I was paired with Jimmy, a texan with a huge heart and Heydi, a 7 y.o. Guatemalan girl that you just cannot help but fall in love with. I have told you stories before of remarkable people that I have met while travelling...this is another one of those tales.

Heydi was enrolled in the 'Embrace' program 4 years ago after her profound malnutrition was recognized by a misson worker. In that time, Jimmy and his wife Tiffany have donated $30 a month to keep Heydi and her family fed. It sounds cliche and we can all remember the "for a dollar a day, you can make a difference" tag line - but I am here to tell you that it works. Today Heydi is close to being out of the danger zone for malnutrition but more than just that...she is fiesty. Unlike other young girls that we met, Heydi had an opinion (opting for a pants suit rather than a traditional dress) and a playful side. It sounds weird but Heydi was unique just for being like the kids that we are used to seeing in North America.

During play time she actively participated, dominating the slide and winning the ring toss. Her intelligence was evident during the craft time when she completed her frame independently after being shown how to use the stickers and glue only once (these are not items that kids here are familiar with). Despite an increased access to food, her hunger was apparent as she wolfed down three pieces of pizza and her generosity was heartbreaking as she initially tried to save her cup of ice cream to share with her family. Although unfamiliar with 'swimming' or playing in water, Heydi was eager to try anything (many of the kids sat on the side and watched) and jumped right in. She even painted my nails...it was clearly her first time.

The kids also had the chance to select items from a little store...I wasn't about to say no to anything that Heydi wanted and was more than willing to cover anything overage that we ran up. No surprise here, much of what Heydi was selected was intended for her family and not for her.

Just when I thought she couldn't get any better...we went home with her to meet her family. After 30 min of bouncing around in the back of a truck we arrived at the closest road access point. The next 15 min were a gruelling uphill hike for us Gringos...Heydi happily skipped along in her new gold flip flops, pausing every 15 min to wait for us.

Breathless we arrived at a simple adope home with a palm roof. Mom, Dad and siblings were all eagerly awaiting our arrival and showed us around. Heydi ran down part of the mountain to try and locate "chairs" for us to sit on. Jimmy was able to see the new stove he purchased in full operation (it is more efficient at wood burning and creates less smoke). The kitchen is generally in a seperate building and they proudly showed off theirs as I realized that I have a walk-in closet at home that is much bigger. There was laughter abudent as I sumbled over what I originally thought was wood - turned out to be a live chicken.

Accustumed to our compulsive photo taking by now, Heydi gave me the chicken to pose with for a few shots. Jimmy took his turn and then we returned their dinner to Heydi. The next part was lost in translation as no matter what I did, Heydi kept returning the chicken to my arms. It was like a really wierd game of catch. I resolved just to carry the thing around.

We learnt that the family carries any water that they need and there is no washroom, not even a latrine - they simply use the 'weeds'. Many times they are unable to stay in their home for sleeping due to a leaky palm roof and any light that they need is achieved through the burning of tree sap.

Trying hard to hold it together, Jimmy and I took a few more photos and then attempted to say farewell. We thanked the family for their time and generositry at meeting with us...I returned the chicken to Heydi's father and gave my little girl a huge hug. The father continued to try and talk to Jimmy and I, and through an interpretor we learnt that the family wanted to bless us with a chicken as thanks for everything that we had done (really should be more thanks to Jimmy there).

This family has nothing. I don't mean that in a degrading way, they literally have nothing...no furniture, no functional roof and certainly no food and they want to give us the only thing that they do have - a live chicken. It's a good thing I couldn't speak their language as I was too choked up to talk. David, our interpretor, explained that because of the airline rules, we wouldn't be able to accept their gift. Accepting of this excuse, the family bid farewell and Haydi led the way through steep winding trails back to the truck. (If David hadn't been there - I would have had to leave with that chicken).

Heydi is in good hands with Jimmy and I know that he will do everything he can for her. My newly adopted girl is named Octavia and she is either 8 or 9 - mom cannot remember her exact age. I should learn more about her in the next few weeks. If you are interested at all in helping children like Octavia or Heydi, e-mail me and I'll send you the information.

Heydi is bright, energetic and generous. She could be anything...doctor, businesswomen - even the first Guatemalan President but she won't be. Realistically, Heydi will grow up to be a mom of several children and live in a hut on some Guatemalan mountain. We give them food but we are never really able to give these people the one thing that they need...opportunity.

Thank you for reading.

Is killing a primate a misdemeanor? (posting from the road)

There was one face that I was dreading more than any other in Guatmela...she is moody and difficult to reason with...I am sure some of you are thinking of Nancy, but no...I am referring to Poncha. It was a long day from the capital to Shangrila (nickname from the compound that we stay on in Southern Guatemala) thanks to a broken down bus and the first noise that I heard when I entered the premesis was the shrill shriek of Poncha, the resident spider monkey.

Poncha and I have a history. On my last visit I had tried very hard to become friends with Poncha, talking to her in a soothing voice...bringing her treats...even saving her life, and how did she repay me? She bit me. It was after I was giving her an afternoon treat of fruit in an attempt to strengthen our bond when I felt a tug on my shoulder bag as I was walking away. I turned to see Poncha's tail pull my bag close to her cage, reach out with her hands, break the plastic clasp that was securing my bottle of Purell to the bag, take the Purell into the cage, open the lid and start slurping it back. Panicked, Connie and I ran for more fruit and lured her back to the side of the cage, while she was distracted with some watermelon, I reached in and snatched the Purell out of her hand.

My surpirse attack was successful and I was able retrieve my Purell but not before Poncha had a chance to sink her fangs down onto my hand. I didn't bother with any further medical treatment...the best time to get bit by a monkey is immediately after then drink hand sanitizer.

So with our history I approached the situation very cautiously. I started just talking to her from afar and eventually moved on to providing treats, the way to a monkeys heart is through treats. By the end of my stay Poncha would easily come to me when called, let me rub her tummy, massage her shoulders and hold her hand - I sensed that we had buried the hatchett.

On our final night, I split from the group to go and give Poncha a snack of Ritz crackers before bed. Tom, a doctor who had been on the previous trip with me and who was unaware of the truce between the monkey and I, jokingly implied that I was going to sneak out and murder the aging primate. I laughingly ensured him that that was far from the truth - Poncha was my new friend! That was my conscience speaking...it seems my subconscious had other ideas...

Poncha greedily grabbed the cracker and inhaled it as if it was the first morsel she had ever eaten...it was dark so I couldn't see her clearly but the sound of choking is universal. I stared wide eyed into the cage and could make out the shadow of a hunched over spider monkey, attempting to dislodge the dry cracker in vain...Tom's last words echoed in my mind. Maybe I was a monkey murderer? I am not exactly known for forgiveness...maybe my sub-conscious had planned this all along...then Poncha gazed up at me.

I tried to figure out if I should try and reach into the cage and heimlich Poncha...how hard do you squeeze a monkey? I thought back to the cause of the chocking...dry Ritz carckers...water, that's what I would want in this situation. So off I bolted again to the kitchen to try and save the life of this monkey...but how do you give water to a monkey? I grabbed a large glass of filtered water and dashed, back to the cage and held the glass next to the fence...a relieved monkey reached out and tilted the glass upright, frantically sipping away.

When Poncha gave a clearing cough, we both breathed a huge sigh of relief and slumped to the ground. As we sat there, next to each other with just the cage fence seperating us - two very relieved mammals - I felt a bond, she may not be able to tell me, but I knew she was thankful and saw me as a friend...then I felt her little paw tapping me, searching for more crackers.

The purpose...(posting from the road)

The annoying trill of multiple cell phone alarms is how my day typically starts - at 0445. That leaves an hour and half for breakfast, dishes and to pack the 3 pick-up trucks with all of our equipment and team of 27 people. An on-time departure means that we should arrive at the mountain top in about an hours time. When I say mountain top, I really mean the literal top of mountian. This guarentees that our morning drive is straight up and our afternoon drive is straight down a rocky, partially washed out "road", many times with a cliff on one side, while bouncing around in the bed of a pick up truck - through pelting rain or searing sun.

This gives us 15 min to descend en mass upon either a church or school and transform it into a clinic that will see 400 patients in 7 hours. Improvisation and brute strength are needed to rapidly form areas for triage, massage, assessment, pharmacy and children's play area (includes balloons, nail painting, puppet shows, gift bags etc) by moving furnitute and stringing ropes all while Guatemalan children play underfoot.

By 0730 "doors" open and the line-up forms of patients ranging in age from 13 days to 90 years. Unlike traige in North America these people are patient - no one complains, yells or pushes. They wait an average of 90 min throught out the day, never uttering a word of discord. The community is screened a few days before our arrival and the 400 chosen to visit us recieve a "ticket". Although only 400 people are technically assessed by the clinic, another 200+ will show up - just to see what's going on. It makes for a VERY crowded workspace (in contrast...Thunder Bay Regional (at least when I was there) would see about 325ish and Harborview Medical Center will see about 150ish in a 24-hour period...granted the acuity is certainly different, but still...we are crazy busy here).

The acutiy for the most part is low...many dermatological conditions (lice, contact dermatitis, scabies,fungal infections), GI upset (the diet here is mainly tortillas and coffee - everyone drinks coffee including the babies) and coughs and colds. We screen for malnutiriton and the really bad children we try and get enrolled in the "Embrace" program (more about that in a different post). The cases that are really sad are the ones that we cannot help, these are generally people that have been waiting for a clinic to come to their mountain for days, months, and in some cases years - all We can do is try and get them transferred to a higher level of care. Some of you may wish to stop reading now...I don't think this will be too graphic but I am going to write some of the more intersting cases that I can remember...

1) 10 month old with severe dehydration - poor thing had a sunken fontanelle, and would not respond to even a light shone in her eyes. The mom stated that she was "sleepy" for a few days now...this story has a happy ending, after a bottle of rehydration salts the baby perked up and was laughing and giggling. The biggest problem that we had with this case was logistical - the suitcase with the rehydration salts fell out during the drive . This means that while this sick baby sat in the church, I had a driver take me 1 hour down the mountain, borrowed some rehydration salts from another clinic and then drove an hour back up the mountian.

2) 19 y.o. man with an "ear infection" - this man had "ear pain" for 7 years! Our clinic was the first chance he had to have access to medical assistance. At this point he has no ear drum on the right and most likely none on the left (too much pus to fully assess). Dr. Tom was worried that he had developed mastoiditis as well. It is difficult to tell without equipment, but he was most likely 'legally deaf' and was mainly hearing from vibrations in the bones. We didn't have the correct antibiotics at our mountain clinc so we gave the poor guy some ibuprofen and some local currency to take a truck taxi (pick up trucks that travel up and down the mountian to shuttle people) to our clinic the next day for a shot of Ceftriaxone. A simple ear infection that resulted in a complete loss of hearing.

3) 22 y.o. female with an undiagnosed seizure disorder - most likely epilepsy based on the information from the family but she now has burns as well after her last seizure caused her to fall into the fire. She will need to travel to Guatemala city for diffinitive help (that is paid for through donations) but was apprehensvie to make the trip to a big city alone. Nancy, one of our organizers, was able to find a local that will volunteer to make this 16 hour day trip so the girl can get her diagnosis and medication.

4) 45 y.o. male with blindness in one eye - what started as most likely a corneal abrasion in one eye was untreated and developed a massive infection. There was nothing we could do at this point for this man...just a sad case.

5) 5 month old with severe spinal bifida - was not a "ticketed" patient but one of our providers who was assessing the sister and noted a lack of movement with this guys right leg. A very happy baby but without intervention will have a very hard time surviving in his location - this is not a handicap friendly zone. It will take some time, but plans are underway to arrange for him to be transferred to Guatemala City for extensive spine surgery.

There really was so much more...it's actually a little depressing to write about so I have to stop. On a positive note, we were able to see close to 1600 patients and in a few instances made real interventions. Our patients were all treated for paracites and given some medications that will make their existance a bit better, at least for a few months.

Who knew promiscuity could lead to a life of leisure (posting from the road)

I have travelled to many places and seen some strange things...but this...even as I try and type it, I know you will all be shaking your heads in disbelief.

The day started fairly routinely for a tourist in Antigua, Guatemala - rise early and hop in a van for winding, vomit inducing drive to "the most beautiful lake in the world", Lake Atitlan. It was exciting for me as this now became my 98/100 Places to See Before I Die. The lake is truly lovely, nestled in a former crater and surrounded by Volcanos on all sides, shores dotted with fairly authentic Mayan villages.

Despite the charm of our first stop, Santiago Catarina and the wretched touristy feel of our next stop, Santiago Atitlan, became the highlight of my day. A town still steeped in traditional Tz'utujil ways, it is one of few places in the world where you can visit Maximón, a folk saint that is believed to be a form of the pre-Columbian Maya god of Mam that has been blended with influences of Catholicism. While the cult-like following Maximón is not fully understood, legend has that when the village men returned from working they discovered Maximón had slept with all of their wives, enraged the men cut off his arms and legs. Somehow after all that he became a 'god' and still has locals bringing him offerings of cigarettes and alcohol in exchange for good health and good crops.

Today the effigy Maximón still enjoys a mysterious exiscence. The local people work to keep him in hiding for fear that his "sexual desires my run amok". So this squat, brown statue (remember he has no arms or legs) is kept hidden in people's homes or outhouses - frequently changing locations. As always, for a small fee, locals will take tourists to the secret locationto visit Maximón. How could I not go?

So we dutifully followed our local guide through a series of alleys to the back of a home...the scene that greeted us was...eerie. Maximón was there, surrounded by several lit candles with a man chanting in the local Tz'utujil language. The caretaker was there to provide Maximón with his needs...which literally were flicking the ash off his cigarette and pouring spirits down his throat.

Yes, you read correctly. This inanimate man sits there, draped in fabrics with a lit cigarrette in the hole of his mouth. When the ash end grew too long, the caretaker would flick the end into an ashtray. Sometimes he would take the cigarrete out of the mouth, tip that statue back and pour rum in the hole. He would then stand Maximón back upright, wipe his "mouth" with a cloth and return the cigarette. I am not making one bit of this up.

I am not sure if I will ever have the chance to return to a Western Guatemalan Tz'utujil village and visit Maximón, but if I do I will be sure to bring a nice bottle of Crown Royal.

Back in the saddle...not the place you want to be (posting from the road)

Back in Guatemala - I honestly never thought I would say that again. Yesterday I was surprised just to make it out of Seattle. Why is it that I am constantly next to that person in the TSA line-up that has to cause a scene? This time the guy that I appeared to be "with" (I made the mistake of chatting with him in line) demanded that they dark-skinned TSA agent recite the Pledge of Allegiance before he would show him his ID. This is right after he explained to me that he's not a "discriminator" or anything, he just hate "towelheads" and how he longs for the days pre 9-11 when you could run through the airport without all these foreigners trying to stop you. Well me and my foreign passport were eager to make a break and during his "show me you're American and I'll show you mine" stance I raced through security and hid in a Starbucks line (just in case he did make it through).

So in comparison, the rest of the trip was unremarkable...met a lovely couple, the Flannigans, at LAX and enjoyed my first class upgrades - particulairly on the LAX - GUA leg which is where every airline dumps their chicken-bus equivilant plane on the route...but enought rye/whisky and all is forgotten.

Carrie and Tom, a few friends from Seattle, were in Guatemala already and had pre-booked a

horseback riding adventure. Excited to get back in the saddle (no pun intended but it was a good one - hahaha) I was eager to give it a go. The description of the ride from their website... "This ride takes you on footpaths and trails on the slope of the Ague volcano. Enjoy spectacular views while riding on calm and fit horses with English or western style saddles. Admire mountain pine forest, little farms and fields and isolated indigenous settlements."

My decription "This ride takes you on a long winding drainage ditch of loose rocks obviously picked from the nearby field while in the remote visinity of a dormant volcano. Enjoy spectacular views, very similar to the views that you will see in town, while riding on tempermental horses with ill-fitting saddles. Admire dusty fields, and trash as far as you can see before entering a suburb of Antigua that is entirely constructed of concrete, there will be a guarenteed opportunity to see an indigenous man passed out drunk."

And I was being generous. My horse Ada wanted to nothing but trot at an uncomfortable pace. Tom's horse was content to not move rather stop and eat. I have not idea what was wrong with Carrie's horse in particular but all I could heard for 2 straight hours was "no, no, no, no". Our guide Vincent alternated his time between talking on his cell phone and texting. The blowing dust was so bad that I spent much of my time with my eyes closed, I would sneak a peak every few mintues to ensure that Ada hadn't run too far off course and that the vista of volcano and trash hadn't changed too much.

The part were we entered the "indigenous settlements" was my favourite. We pranced through this suburb, perched high above the locals who seemed to have flocked to the main concrete strip to see what gullible tourists the clip/clop noise brought today. The only redemming part of this section was that the horses were no longer trying to stay upright on loose rocks, now they just had to contend with tuk-tuks and feral dogs.

I shouldn't complain too much...I didn't even come close to death and at the end of the day...my old friend Gallo beer and I were reacquainted...of how I missed you Gallo.