(Hike volcanoes, help kids)
Hola from Quetzaltenango, or Xela, the second biggest city in Guatemala. Home has been here now for almost two months, time which has disappeared into a blur of 48km hikes, 3:30am alarms, pondering the chances of procuring good chocolate (nigh on impossible), sunrises over Lago Atitlan and sunsets over volcanoes. And volcanoes erupting, and talking about volcanoes, and watching volcanoes, and me being so excited over a particular eruption that a trekking client decided to film my reaction rather than the volcano erupting right in front of her. Yeah. I kinda like volcanoes.
So where better for me to have found myself than guiding for Quetzaltrekkers, a wonderful non-profit organization that takes people to see volcanoes (and other arguably also cool stuff), encourages me to talk their ears off about subduction zones and stratovolcanic formation, and then uses the money they pay for this to almost single handedly fund a school for 180 students and a hogar abierto (open home)(which provides housing, board and social services) for a further 20. With so much confusion in tracing funds in other aid organisations, I'm proud to be able to tell any one who hikes with us that all of the money they give us (minus our operating costs) goes straight to the niños. I also find this useful to remember when my alarm jolts me awake at 3:30am to catch a sunrise over Lake Atitlan, or when I'm slogging up and up and up on Tajumulco, the highest point in Central America at 4222m of elevation, or when my knees threaten to explode after said up and up and up. I could talk about Quetzaltrekkers all day, but instead if you wish you can read more here: https://www.quetzaltrekkers.com/xela/ (and also you can book treks there come and hang out with me in Guatemala)(really you should it is excellent). I've learnt so much living here- in school in Australia Latin American history does not feature heavily, so I arrived woefully ignorant of the history of this region. A nasty civil war, a string of terrible leaders, a GDP whose main contributor is money sent back from Guatemalans working illegally in the States... I have never been more aware of how lucky we are in Australia to have the lives that we do. I pass street art every day that talks of countering violence against women (a big problem generally in Latin America), I watch the drunks on my corner drinking rubbing alcohol, I read the terrible stories of teenagers being shot by the Frontier Patrol in Texas as they try and make their way into a country that as a whole doesn't want them and where they will be exploited and paid far below minimum wage for the decades it takes to justify them making the journey in the first place, and my heart hurts. It has been such a balm to meet the people who have chosen to make their lives here and to make the purpose of that life to be to help in any way they can- from the excellent Australian lady who owns a vegan café I end up at most days I'm not hiking and uses this café to fund a project rehousing street dogs, to my fellow volunteers who have put their other lives on hold to help out in this small way for as long as they can manage- both at QT, the school, and at medical clinics.
It is a really neat feeling to arrive at that feeling of 'home'- whether its my favourite veg vendor in the market giving me free spinach, enthusiastically describing the location of my favourite café or pupuseria (pupusa are Salvadorean and they are just the tastiest) or simply sitting in the sunshine in Parque Central awaiting people I'm about to lead on a walking tour, there's nothing quite like realizing you've got yourself settled in, and that you can navigate the cobblestoned streets with a big bag of homemade bread in one hand and a stick of vegan chocolate icecream in the other, all the while chattering away to a fellow QT guide aka my family here. It is such a wonderfully unique workplace- firstly we are all volunteering so while we work hard (though play harder) we aren't getting paid for it, secondly there is no 'boss' or authority figure so we all make decisions together, and finally we all live in the hostel attached to our office- so we spend almost every moment of every day together. There is no quicker way to build a family and it has been such a privilege to hike/dance/cook/laugh with this excellent and inspirational group of people. We've frozen together at sunrise at 4222m (though warmed by hysterical laughter watching a slow motion video of my roommate hopping around in her sleeping bag), got 'fancy' (costumed up) for a night out on the town, spent many hours playing zombies with the hogar kids and collectively sucked at football on a weekly basis (with a few exceptions)(also I managed a header this week so maybe I'm set to be the next soccer star)(really though the hogar kids beat us soundly).
As well as my people here, our hikes are also show-stoppers, and while I don't relish crawling out of my sleeping bag at 3am I have lost count of the breath-taking vistas I've seen in this country. Off the Pacific coast of Guatemala the Cocos and Caribbean tectonic plate are colliding, resulting in a subduction zone- which then results in high silica, high viscosity lava. What this means for Guatemala is a near perfect line of textbook stratovolcanoes (ie the mountain cone everyone pictures when you say 'volcano'), some of which have quite the explosive history. One of these explosive babies is Santa Maria, who looms over Xela and last erupted in 1902- one of the three biggest eruptions of the 20th century. These days a series of vents on her south-west side are the only sign of activity, but with Santiaguito erupting on average every 45 minutes it is strikingly obvious that all sorts of geological shenanigans are still at play under the surface. One of my favourite hikes to lead is to the Santiaguito mirador (mirador meaning 'seeing place'), which involves only a few hours of hiking, breakfast in the sunshine, and potentially up to 3 volcanic eruptions. My most recent jaunt up to the mirador was with a client I'd previously hiked up Tajumulco with, a violin teacher from the UK. We had a great time extolling the virtues of various classical composers (generally in complete accord, with the exception of Bartok)(as soon as piano pieces are described as 'percussive' you can pretty much count me out), and enjoying the sunshine, though a definite highlight was in the last 5 minutes up to the point where we would sit and break our fast and be on eruption watch. As we begun to round the final corners I saw what at first glance appeared to be a cloud, but with its low altitude and dark colour had me wondering, "You know Richard that kinda looks like it could be RICHARD RICHARD THAT'S AN ERUPTION PLUME QUICK QUICK LET'S GO" and then had me sprinting off towards the volcanic eruption. Yes, towards. Did I mention I really like volcanoes? (We caught the end of an epic eruption, despite the cardio Richard was stoked).
Trekking to Lago Atitlan (a super ancient, super big volcano) is also a pretty great part of most weeks- 8 hour days on the trail, my favourite dog in all Guatemala, Teddy, a temescal (traditional Mayan sauna) and topping it all off with a 3m jump into the lake. My first temescal was quite the experience- it is essentially a large pizza oven, that you crawl into, naked. Chances are Teddy is patiently watching you, as are a small gang of Guatemalan children, and your fellow guide (with amusement) as you question whether we really are going to just crawl into this small super hot unlit cave-thing. After a long day of hiking though and in the chill mountain evening air, there really is nothing better than stripping off while gazing at dusk-lit mountains and then emerging 15 minutes later the colour of a lobster and shiny with sweat. Then you get to enjoy bringing groups of clients up the little hill to the temescals and watching their faces as they see the giant pizza ovens for the first time, reminiscing about when you too thought it was all a bit Hansel and Gretel-ish.
I've been spending 4 or 5 days a week on average on our hikes at the moment, and the wear and tear of my body is certainly starting to make itself known. Double knee braces feature heavily, both of my big toenails are black, my tan lines are truly out of control and I'm pretty sure my hiking socks will need to be burnt at the end of my three months here. I've begun day dreaming of Mexican beaches, which is absolutely directly where I will be headed after this. This girl needs her salt water.
And ps- after a month in Mexico and a few more weeks in the States, I'm coming home. Australia- you better be ready for this.
I'm sure there'll be more amusing slow motion videography to stave off hypothermia before that though,
Love, Lucy.
Hola from Quetzaltenango, or Xela, the second biggest city in Guatemala. Home has been here now for almost two months, time which has disappeared into a blur of 48km hikes, 3:30am alarms, pondering the chances of procuring good chocolate (nigh on impossible), sunrises over Lago Atitlan and sunsets over volcanoes. And volcanoes erupting, and talking about volcanoes, and watching volcanoes, and me being so excited over a particular eruption that a trekking client decided to film my reaction rather than the volcano erupting right in front of her. Yeah. I kinda like volcanoes.
So where better for me to have found myself than guiding for Quetzaltrekkers, a wonderful non-profit organization that takes people to see volcanoes (and other arguably also cool stuff), encourages me to talk their ears off about subduction zones and stratovolcanic formation, and then uses the money they pay for this to almost single handedly fund a school for 180 students and a hogar abierto (open home)(which provides housing, board and social services) for a further 20. With so much confusion in tracing funds in other aid organisations, I'm proud to be able to tell any one who hikes with us that all of the money they give us (minus our operating costs) goes straight to the niños. I also find this useful to remember when my alarm jolts me awake at 3:30am to catch a sunrise over Lake Atitlan, or when I'm slogging up and up and up on Tajumulco, the highest point in Central America at 4222m of elevation, or when my knees threaten to explode after said up and up and up. I could talk about Quetzaltrekkers all day, but instead if you wish you can read more here: https://www.quetzaltrekkers.com/xela/ (and also you can book treks there come and hang out with me in Guatemala)(really you should it is excellent). I've learnt so much living here- in school in Australia Latin American history does not feature heavily, so I arrived woefully ignorant of the history of this region. A nasty civil war, a string of terrible leaders, a GDP whose main contributor is money sent back from Guatemalans working illegally in the States... I have never been more aware of how lucky we are in Australia to have the lives that we do. I pass street art every day that talks of countering violence against women (a big problem generally in Latin America), I watch the drunks on my corner drinking rubbing alcohol, I read the terrible stories of teenagers being shot by the Frontier Patrol in Texas as they try and make their way into a country that as a whole doesn't want them and where they will be exploited and paid far below minimum wage for the decades it takes to justify them making the journey in the first place, and my heart hurts. It has been such a balm to meet the people who have chosen to make their lives here and to make the purpose of that life to be to help in any way they can- from the excellent Australian lady who owns a vegan café I end up at most days I'm not hiking and uses this café to fund a project rehousing street dogs, to my fellow volunteers who have put their other lives on hold to help out in this small way for as long as they can manage- both at QT, the school, and at medical clinics.
It is a really neat feeling to arrive at that feeling of 'home'- whether its my favourite veg vendor in the market giving me free spinach, enthusiastically describing the location of my favourite café or pupuseria (pupusa are Salvadorean and they are just the tastiest) or simply sitting in the sunshine in Parque Central awaiting people I'm about to lead on a walking tour, there's nothing quite like realizing you've got yourself settled in, and that you can navigate the cobblestoned streets with a big bag of homemade bread in one hand and a stick of vegan chocolate icecream in the other, all the while chattering away to a fellow QT guide aka my family here. It is such a wonderfully unique workplace- firstly we are all volunteering so while we work hard (though play harder) we aren't getting paid for it, secondly there is no 'boss' or authority figure so we all make decisions together, and finally we all live in the hostel attached to our office- so we spend almost every moment of every day together. There is no quicker way to build a family and it has been such a privilege to hike/dance/cook/laugh with this excellent and inspirational group of people. We've frozen together at sunrise at 4222m (though warmed by hysterical laughter watching a slow motion video of my roommate hopping around in her sleeping bag), got 'fancy' (costumed up) for a night out on the town, spent many hours playing zombies with the hogar kids and collectively sucked at football on a weekly basis (with a few exceptions)(also I managed a header this week so maybe I'm set to be the next soccer star)(really though the hogar kids beat us soundly).
As well as my people here, our hikes are also show-stoppers, and while I don't relish crawling out of my sleeping bag at 3am I have lost count of the breath-taking vistas I've seen in this country. Off the Pacific coast of Guatemala the Cocos and Caribbean tectonic plate are colliding, resulting in a subduction zone- which then results in high silica, high viscosity lava. What this means for Guatemala is a near perfect line of textbook stratovolcanoes (ie the mountain cone everyone pictures when you say 'volcano'), some of which have quite the explosive history. One of these explosive babies is Santa Maria, who looms over Xela and last erupted in 1902- one of the three biggest eruptions of the 20th century. These days a series of vents on her south-west side are the only sign of activity, but with Santiaguito erupting on average every 45 minutes it is strikingly obvious that all sorts of geological shenanigans are still at play under the surface. One of my favourite hikes to lead is to the Santiaguito mirador (mirador meaning 'seeing place'), which involves only a few hours of hiking, breakfast in the sunshine, and potentially up to 3 volcanic eruptions. My most recent jaunt up to the mirador was with a client I'd previously hiked up Tajumulco with, a violin teacher from the UK. We had a great time extolling the virtues of various classical composers (generally in complete accord, with the exception of Bartok)(as soon as piano pieces are described as 'percussive' you can pretty much count me out), and enjoying the sunshine, though a definite highlight was in the last 5 minutes up to the point where we would sit and break our fast and be on eruption watch. As we begun to round the final corners I saw what at first glance appeared to be a cloud, but with its low altitude and dark colour had me wondering, "You know Richard that kinda looks like it could be RICHARD RICHARD THAT'S AN ERUPTION PLUME QUICK QUICK LET'S GO" and then had me sprinting off towards the volcanic eruption. Yes, towards. Did I mention I really like volcanoes? (We caught the end of an epic eruption, despite the cardio Richard was stoked).
Trekking to Lago Atitlan (a super ancient, super big volcano) is also a pretty great part of most weeks- 8 hour days on the trail, my favourite dog in all Guatemala, Teddy, a temescal (traditional Mayan sauna) and topping it all off with a 3m jump into the lake. My first temescal was quite the experience- it is essentially a large pizza oven, that you crawl into, naked. Chances are Teddy is patiently watching you, as are a small gang of Guatemalan children, and your fellow guide (with amusement) as you question whether we really are going to just crawl into this small super hot unlit cave-thing. After a long day of hiking though and in the chill mountain evening air, there really is nothing better than stripping off while gazing at dusk-lit mountains and then emerging 15 minutes later the colour of a lobster and shiny with sweat. Then you get to enjoy bringing groups of clients up the little hill to the temescals and watching their faces as they see the giant pizza ovens for the first time, reminiscing about when you too thought it was all a bit Hansel and Gretel-ish.
I've been spending 4 or 5 days a week on average on our hikes at the moment, and the wear and tear of my body is certainly starting to make itself known. Double knee braces feature heavily, both of my big toenails are black, my tan lines are truly out of control and I'm pretty sure my hiking socks will need to be burnt at the end of my three months here. I've begun day dreaming of Mexican beaches, which is absolutely directly where I will be headed after this. This girl needs her salt water.
And ps- after a month in Mexico and a few more weeks in the States, I'm coming home. Australia- you better be ready for this.
I'm sure there'll be more amusing slow motion videography to stave off hypothermia before that though,
Love, Lucy.
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