No Middle Road

Climbing Volcano Pacaya was like a Sunday walk in the park after Volcano San Pedro, but it was a whole different experience. Our guide, Ronny, was a rather humorous fellow and mentioned that we couldn't climb all the way to the top because the ground on the way up is not firm and you could fall through into the volcano. Fine, he said, if you like marshmallows. Ha ha. Seriously, you could not pay me to climb this thing any higher than we did. As it was, we were scrambling over lava so fresh that it was melting our shoes and impassable unless you ran in some spots. People were literally pointing and commenting to each other about my choice of footwear: Chaco sandals. Those were fine for me, but what I have been lamenting is not bringing shaving cream, but as Jon mentioned, I could just singe my leg hairs as he did. I have footage of this thing spewing out some rocks that created small avalanches on their way down. Apparently, last week some tourists only escaped being hit by boulders "by sheer luck." It was very mellow for us today, thankfully. But if you are not worried about being robbed at gunpoint anymore there, you are concerned you might sink through into the hot lava or get hit by a rock, or worse, get buried under another eruption (the last one was two years ago.) I have to laugh at my safety-paranoid American mentality. There were so many tourists up there with us, so it can't be that dangerous, but then again, couldn't it be? I wonder how much of a warning they get before an eruption happens... Is it like an earthquake where you have time to evacuate? Something to ponder.

One of my many revelations yesterday on the ride to Antigua was that my dad's cows are the luckiest cows in the world-- grazing happily on fresh green grass in the summer without a care in the world. Some of the things I observed on the drive: A group of guys picking up their motorcycles and shaking off the pain of a collision, two dead dogs in the road, the saddest cows I've seen tied up by the roadside in the strangest of places, two kids riding double up a massive hill on a bicycle in jeans and t-shirts, and whole families strolling through beautiful countryside with loads balanced on their heads in obscure parts of the highway. There is a lot more, but the bottom line is that the Highlands part of the country is truly caught between worlds. If the first one is the Latino culture and the second one is the Mayan culture, then I think I would like to make a motion to add a third world: it is us. The traveler, the "gringo" (I hate that word), the ones with loads of money and expensive gear. How are we changing this place? What is the hidden cost of tourism?

Down here back in Antigua, I feel like I am looking into the future of Guatemala, with nice paved and cobblestone roads, hip restaurants, and painted buildings. The difference is that very little of Guatemala will ever see the money this place sees. My perspective on this town is drastically different from when I first arrived. Then, I saw a place that was trying to be posh but still developing. Now I see luxury all around me. What has changed? Perhaps it was a month in a Mayan pueblo that made me see life through a slightly new lens. I miss the friendly greetings from everyone up in the mountains but I am basking in the glow of development. Will you hate me for loving my hot shower last night and Thai food today? I feel so conflicted, but that is nothing new. What I want to buy most of all is a bar of natural hand-made soap I found (a diamond in the rough here) that costs 30Q ($4). I could buy a meal for that, or a night in a hostel, or a 4 hour bus ride. I want to buy it to send the message to keep producing things like this. Supply and demand will eventually bring the price down, right? It makes me feel like I am 20 again to struggle with such a decision. In reality, my actions here should reflect my ethics almost moreso than back at home. I am going to buy the darn soap. Better that the person who made it by hand gets the money (and the water stays chemical free) than giving my money to a factory process.