Guatemala City

-->

Home sweet home.

Back in the family pod, the tunes of a melancholy piano echoing through the house, clutter of ethnic knick knacks and pillows, cat hair, and an assortment of unconventional objects making up pieces of furniture. Wheels, doors and windows used as tables, an ox yolk as a shelf, a camel saddle bag doubling as a kitty bed and a scratching post. It became official as soon as I finished moving furniture in my room around, rearranging, assimilating, hiding – managed to hide a whole bed in the closet. Then came the overwhelming urge to sweep, dust and hoover, and before I knew it the whole house was clean. Then I ate a mango. A juicy, sweet, bright orange mango.

Hadn't been been back an hour and had already been coaxed into the candle pose, spinal cord realigned (never heard so much cracking in my life) and informed that we'd be making a trip to El Salvador in a couple days. That never happened though since the next day both parents fell ill to a particularly nasty strain of the flu and were rendered immovable for a week.

Life in Guatemala City is strangely domestic after exploring the cultural wonders of the world. Family dinners, cat hair, early morning rush to get to work/school/indigenous tribes, packed lunches varying in size depending on who packs them, weekend trips to see the grandparents, dealing with teenage emotional dilemmas. Everyone here is so emotional. A certain knowledge of etique is definitely lacking on my part.

You can´t say life isn´t rich and exciting though. This morning´s drive to work down that horribly congested Carretera El Salvador into the valley was made less tedious by occasional glimpses of the  Agua, Fuego and Acatenango volcanoes, the morning´s cool temperatures keeping visibility clear. Just like the view of the Himalayas, I can´t get enough of the volcanoes here. 

Californiaaa 18.04.2011

Sitting at the airport for 8 hours, finishing postcards which won't get sent till the end of the month, watching Glee and chatting to randomly friendly men.

“So where are you from?”

Right in the middle of an episode here, “uh, El Salvador”
“Oh wow, me too!”

Which isn't so surprising in the States since roughly half our population are currently living here. Six hours and a greasy panini later, at the gate still watching Glee another man starts...

“Where are you headed?”

Sigh. “Guatemala”
“Oh, yo tambien. Sos Guatemalteca?”
“No, Salvadoreña”

“Pero vives en Guatemala? Donde?”
“En la ciudad”

“Ah vives con tu esposo?” - This question always makes me laugh, but I should really start lying in response.

“Jaja, no”

“Pues yo vivo en la costa pero de vez en cuando voy a la ciudad, que tal si te doy una llamadita?”-

Eew, how old are you man? “No tengo telefono. Ademas me voy a El Salvador a vivir con mis abuelos.”

“Entonces tales nos vemos alli!”

!!!

Tales of Nepalgunj Pt. 2

Chomping on green mangoes, visa issues sorted out, this is as good a time as any to continue the tales of Nepalgunj...

***

The caravan from Surkhet departed early in the morning. A brief meeting at the district office of the fellow travelers to collect the means of transportation and its handler and we move off. 

It is my personal opinion that all journeys to the field should be conducted via elephant according to colonialist traditions. It is not more uncomfortable than traveling by car (especially with the conditions of the road), more environmentally friendly and infinitely more exciting. Both means of transportation need special handlers especially trained in the field of working in adverse conditions, both consume fuel of some sort (bet you it'd be cheaper to feed an elephant that to fill up a tank of petrol) and both attract as much attention. We didn't travel by elephant but I'm going to pretend like we did since the rocking movement of the car climbing over boulders, ditches and streams perfectly immitated the movements of a walking elephant. Placing a company logo on the elephant wouldn't be much of a problem either, and if Ncell can advertise phone rates using Kathmandu's local elephant why can't GIZ use elephants to transport its staff to the field? I'm sure there would be enough space and willingness to include a paragraph or two on animal rights next to our conflict sensitive and human rights policies. Probably shouldn't talk about this stuff on here.

Madan the mahout was an excellent handler. He coaxed the grey pachiderm over hills and protected him from the rocks of nasty children. After a long days's drive, the means of transportation was always wiped down and put to rest in a safe location away from curious hands and feet. Occasionally local children were allowed to play with Nissan and climb all over his grey back. 

Thailand

Sunburn and mosquito bites, the holiday has started! Actually it started about a week ago as I soared over the Nepalese mountains catching my first and last glimpse of Everest, now I'm sitting here in lovely Chinatown, Bangkok surrounded by hanging orchids, eucalyptus and bamboo bushes, and trickling fountains stressing about the fact that my Australian visa won't go through. My flight is tomorrow. Stress.

Other than that, nothing much to report. Chiang Mai was ok, not exactly the cultural capital of Thailand it claims to be but maybe I'm a bit spoiled for culture after living in Kathmandu. Nevertheless, hung out with lions, tigers and elephants, took a tour to the Golden Triangle - something which I keep saying I will never ever do again, and this time I mean it, "I will never ever EVER go on another guided tour" -  and stood on the point where Laos, Burma and Thailand meet but unfortunately did not get to step into any of these other exciting countries. Saw the long-eared ethnic tribe - a very culturally diluted and depressing sight, won't say more on that,  and explored countless wats and stuppas. Oh and did I mention we went shopping? Sunday market, night market, fruit market, flower market, air conditioned shopping centres offering relief from the sweltering heat. Yes, we certainly went shopping and certainly added another 2kg to the already overstuffed luggage.

Then Bangkok came along.

Bangkok is an interesting city. Every time I come here I form a different opinion of it. You either love it or hate it. It's dirty, smelly, loud and kind of ugly, but ancient and powerful, wonderfully resilient and self sustainable. Not vegetarian friendly, but neither is the rest of Thailand. Public transportation is fantastic, reliable, clean, efficient, excellent city coverage - German influence of course - and cheap! Spent all day touring the city via river ferry, canal boats, bus, metro and on foot and spent around 50 baht. Just over a euro.   It's nice to be back in a big city, even if it is a little too big, 6.3 million.

Onward travels. Sydney and LA next.

Tales from Nepalgunj - Pt. 1

Skip the grimy airport arrival and what looks like blood splattered, water damaged walls and Nepalgunj welcomes you with a flurry of colours and a sensory overload. It is a town on the southwestern border of Nepal and India, in the Terai region, where traditional means of transportation are favoured over motorbikes and SUV's. Buses are garishly coloured horse drawn carriages meant to carry five people at the most but carrying 20 at the least. The streets are crowded and full of recycled life. People buzzing around carrying out their daily activities, rickshaw taxis making business from women running errands, children skipping school, not a single tourist in sight. There is constant movement, and abundance of colour and dust and so many details you don't know where to look. I hide gratefully in the cool confinement of the company car, peering out from the tinted windows.

Sometimes I get a glimpse of the appeal of colonial India. An architectural wonder emerges from the throng of horse carriages, saris and cows wandering the streets in oriented confusion. A flurry of questions ensue "What is that? Is that Nepali or Indian architecture? Is it very common? I've never seen it before. Tell me everything you possibly can about the history and function of this beautiful building". Such exclamations of wonder and awe fall on blissfully smiling yet uncomprehending ears. Madan the mahout smiles in the rear view mirror but remains silent. We're nearly in India now, standing at the border looking out into a mirror expanse of horse drawn carriages, saris and cows.

The hour long diversion to the India border, much appreciated as it is, sets us back by an hour. Surkhet is now a four hour drive away and something which feels like a hangover but could not possibly be a hangover begins to take its toll. The shanty towns we pass along the way are dusty ghost towns, wavering in the heat, the thrill and splendor of Nepalgunj quickly fading into a stupor of heat and nausea. Four hours later exhausted from doing nothing but sit in a car, a passive audience for road repairmen laying down tarmac for a winding but comparatively excellent road, we arrive in Surkhet.