MAYA-HO DOS!
_{To Central America, 2005}

DIA CUARENTA CINCO:
Viernes, 1 April 2005, Santa Teodora
San Cristobal de Las Casas (SCLC) - Friday night.

Yet Another Down Day (YADD). Note: Everytime I write that, I think of an old song (by The Cyrkle?) called IT'S A TURN DOWN DAY (And I Dig It). La de da. But I digress.

I've finished reading CORELLI'S MANDOLIN (a fine book brimming with Mediterranean history and lore and atrocities and love) (Maureen says the movie version is a hatchet job) and started the Burton biography. I worked on pictures all day, have caught up on all but the last three weeks. After a thunderous omelette a la Mexicana (tomato, vegs, Oaxaca cheeze, spices) we had a thunderous afternoon storm, rain and hail and wind, power out for over an hour. But are the streets any cleaner?

In evening we strolled downtown, heard the Municipal Karoake, singers with canned music via LARGE loudspeakers on the zocalo, hoping to be selected to front for the municipal marimba. Public auditions can be painful. The white-tent Culture Fair is replaced by a Food Fair, many tastes of Chiapas washed down with warm beer. We iNetted, sent some April Fools emails (no fish in my pockets), checked on further news on any Guatemala-Mexico border closure -- nothing. We shall see what we shall see.

DIA CUARENTA SEIS:
Sabado, 2 April 2005, Santa Ofelia
San Cristobal de Las Casas (SCLC) - evening.

In the morning, did the textile-artisan mercado with Maureen and Melanie. (Jim's still feeling punkish, and anyway, he hates shopping.) Meli first took us to the wholesale shops across General Utrilla from Santo Domingo, the fruitful fonts from which flow all trinkets. We're just compating prices, natch. I don't really need a score of Zap doll keychains, or a gross of armadillo handbags.

Thense into the mercado, wherein certain purchases are made. Gorgeous cheap stuff! Swarming people! Rustling pesos! For me, for 40 pesos (US$3.60), a sweetgrass basket and three more animalitos, but nothing yet to replace the one Maureen broke, a coyote with a bird in its mouth. We passed on the dinosaur rag dolls (species: Ragosaurus Mex) and couldn't find any castanets. Doesn't anyone make and sell castanets anymore? What has *happened* to Mexico?

NOTED: When dry, some streets in SCLC are like Venetian canals, but without the water.

We spent the rest of the day in the casita. The clouds, the rains, the elevation -- it's COLD today, at least below 60°f. Maureen kindles flames in the tiled fireplace. Now we need more firewood and bottled water. At least the water heater isn't wood-fired.

More picture-editing, of course. I'm almost up to the point where we moved into the casita, 2.4 weeks ago. Yes, I'll put some images up on the website. Soon, soon...

FUTURE: Just two more weeks of city life, then we hit the road again, hopefully south. Still no word from the cousins on the situation in Guatemala. But it's time to get serious about maintenance (dentist, seamstress), and to study our guides to plan our further route, and to eat down our supplies. We brought way too much preserved food. And our old guidebook said that toilet paper (excuse me, sanitary tissue) was hard to find in Mexico. Not true now. So maybe our large stock of same will be necessary in Honduras, eh?

DIA CUARENTA SIETE:
Domingo, 3 April 2005, Sixto I
San Cristobal de Las Casas (SCLC) - Sunday

MORNING: We walk over the hill again to re-run the mercado. Above us is a dog we hear singing at night, a rooftop Rottweillor. We pass a guy carrying shopping bags in both hands. Sitting on his shoulder is a small green parrot, which nips gently but firmly at Maureen's gently prodding finger. (When Maureen asked to pet the bird, the fellow smiled and his eyes twinkled.)

At the mercado, certain necessary textiles are acquired. Above us loom the old churches, their tops festooned with ornate ironwork crosses, divine antennae. Political slogans adorn the walls. We're getting to know this mercado much too well; it's time to move on.

We walk south on General Utrilla past scores of stores. zapaterias (shoes) and roperias (clothes) and bicleterias (bikes) and farmacias, etc, plus the occasional tack and skateboard shops. At one zapateria, a guy standing in the doorway glances down at my US size 18 shoes and gives up hope.

AFTERNOON: The spring fair ends today; the Taste of Chiapas booths are ready for a final surge as the cathedral empties, then they too will blow away. We sit in the zocalo and enjoy the day. A group of foreign nuns go by, in habits and wipples and huipiles. We know they're foreign visitors because Mexican clergy are forbidden by law from wearing signs of their vocation.

We stroll towards our old posada, stop in the El Gato Gordo ("the Fat Cat") for a good cheap lunch. Jim and Meli started their SCLC stay in the hotel next door, before signing a six-month lease on the casita. Meli derides the Fat Cat as "that hippie place" but how can that be? There are no pictures of Jimi Hendrix on the walls, a dead giveaway. Hmmm, but how to rate the Bob Marley flag? Or the blacklight bathroom? Or the big Hand of Fatima? But the food and music sing for us.

JUAN PABLO II: At the Fat Cat we see today's paper -- cardinals from worldwide are conclaving at the Vatican, working on papal succession. But JP2 must still be alive, because we haven't yet heard the tolling of bells from all the churches. Silent mourning?

Let's see, was that 1980? The old pope had died -- was that John XXIII, author of so many reforms? Sorry, I don't track popes that closely. Anyway, his successor was John Paul, an old Italian prelate, and his papacy lasted about as long as William Henry Harrison's presidency, one month.

So, a weekend midday, circa 1980. I'm young and sturdy. I'm at my National Guard medic unit in Redwood City CA (south of San Francisco, near Stanford), out on the lawn under a big shady tree, eating lunch (probably a piroshki and cole slaw from a nearby deli), listening to a portable radio. News flash: Pope John Paul has died. I walk over to a group of Hispanic medics eating at a table

I ask, "Hey, are any of you guys Catholics?"

I get some nods. "Well, the Pope just died."

Someone says, "Hey, no man, that was last month!"

I say, "No, I mean the new one just died too."

I pass over the radio. There is much anxious huddling and conversing. Birds flitter in the trees. Cardinals fly back to Rome to burn more candles and politics. And a Polish cardinal is chosen, who calls himself John Paul II. The rest is history. And for some reason, the old Tom Lehrer song THE VATICAN RAG keeps running through my head. Does that mean I'm in serious trouble?

EVENING: It's not as cold as yesterday. Good thing, we don't really want to drag the room-heater and propane tank out of the closet. We've gotta chase down a water truck tomorrow, among other things. Life goes on.

Since our Corzo-Sumidero drive, I put on a marimba CD each night when preparing dinner. The Marimba Orqestra Seguridad Publica (cops from somewhere) is especially good. (The US needs more cop-and-fireman bands; things might mellow out a bit.) Technical quality of the CDs vary. These are NOT professionally produced. I have yet to hold a factory-produced CD in Mexico or Guatemala. I'm sure they exist, but not in the marketplaces. That's not how things work here.

Heard under the stars: A throng of fast (chanting?) voices, like I've heard on music from India, going on for hours and hours into the night, bouncing off our walls and ears.

DIA CUARENTA OCHO:
Lunes 4 April 2005, Anuncion del Senor
San Cristobal (SCLC) - Monday night.

YAM (Yet Another Monday). Shop'n'drop, iNet, zocalo marimba, etc. Leaving the Chedraui supertienda complex this afternoon, we encountered a funeral procession -- flower-covered minivan, costumed marching mariachi band, a hundred mourners, proceeding down the middle of the PanAmerican Highway. Meanwhile I must write a report for SheptiChat on local strange beliefs, chupacabras, etc. All the hours spent on editing pictures leaves little time for writing. Whine whine whine.

Oh yes -- that Holy War massacre in Chamula I mentioned previously? It happened 20 years ago; but tensions remain. The new evangelical school there probably won't lessen the stresses.

DIA CUARENTA NUEVE:
Martes 5 April 2005, San Vicente Ferrar
San Cristobal (SCLC) - Tuesday night.

YAMT (Yet Another Malaria Tuesday). This morning we walked past Old Town's rural corner, on past the Amber Museum and the delightful hidden Calvario Templo to the dentist's, made our tooth-cleaning appointments for next Tuesday. Cost: 400 pesos (US$36), not the US$200 charged back in Bisbee. Returning, we see one taxi stopped at a hotel to load, and traffic backs up honking for a mile in all directions. Damn narrow streets. Back at the casita it's more picture editing -- now I'm into the 400 we shot on Holy Friday. Yi yi yi.

DIA CINCUENTA:
Miercoles 6 April 2005, San Marcelino
San Cristobal (SCLC) - Wednesday night.

YAWS (Yet Another Wednesday, Slowly). We didn't leave the casita today. I worked feverishly on images, am finally through with Semana Santa (Holy Week). 1100 pictures. Whew. I read the Captain RF Burton biography whilst editing, ingesting odd paragraphs as image processes work their way through the CPU. I daydream of posing as an Arab, like Burton (rather too tall to fake being Maya) and just blending in. Right. Ants are swarming all over. And we'd better find that seamstress soon.

DIA CINCUENTA UNO:
Jueves 7 April 2005, San Juan Buatista de la Salle
San Cristobal (SCLC) - Thursday night.

We got up early, stuffed Jim and Melanie in our old Ford SUV, drove SCLC's narrow cobbled lanes and Chiapas's twisty mountain roads, thense north/west along the PanAmerican Highway, back down to the ancient colonial city of Chiapa de Corzo, bathing along the Rio Grivalva below mighty Sumidero Canyon. Our goals: a rerun of marketing, a glimpse of the ancient Dominican templo (Jim says they're ALL Dominican churches around here), and an adventure.

CORZO: We parked in front of the municipal palace, crossed the street, dodged multitudes of pedicabs. Our first stop was the huge holy barn-like 16th-century Santo Domingo convento complex. Around us, the Seville-born Medejar architecture, and tower holding the largest(?) bell in Mexico. We walked the long dark naves separated by two-level arcades; looming over us were a series of fantastic neo-Gothic altarpieces, dust-motes floating in the odd beams of light that managed to penetrate this sanctuary. Eyes followed us -- from the walls, from the aisles, from above?

We escaped and strolled to a plaza high above the river, looking down at Brahmin cattle grazing along its banks, and thatched-roof huts and comedor covers, and tour boats anchored in the clean dam-fed current. A cool breeze ruffled our greying-to-white-to-absent hair.

MARKET: Then back around Santo Domingo and into the town marketplace, a great building wherein one may purchase produce or meat or tamales or SpongeBob SquarePants pinatas. This feels like the old Grand Central Public Market in Los Angeles, and for good reason. We wandered about, to the curiosity and amazement of the locals. Not many Gringos make it into this place, or so I gather.

We strolled past flower vendors and along the arcades fronting the great zocalo, looking at textiles and carvings and doodads and geegaws, then down towards the boat landing past more shops and tarped stalls and sleepy guards. Corzo is much quieter than just a week ago, but the Spring Fair was still going then. We ran into the same hamaca and CD guys and found new treasures; certain purchases were made. Then we loaded up and ran.

At the town tourist info office, they laughed when Jim asked directions to the famous Corzo archaeological site, where the oldest dated stele in the Americas was found. What can be seen is at the road-fork leading into town, a truncated pyramid maybe 50 meters square and 5 meters high, surrounded by the usual roadside shops and trash-covered signs saying DON'T THROW TRASH HERE (NO TIRE BASURA). An extensive but undeveloped archaeological site is somewhere nearby, but we drove rural roads for quite a while without finding anything.

ADVENTURE: Our guidebook suggested a road loop north; we bit. We drove past a number of undistinguished but clean villages in smokey valleys, higher and higher into the hills, the air temperature dropping from 95°f to 60°f, probably up to 9000 feet. El Chorreadero, Ixtapa, Soyalo, Bochil, towards Simojovel.

At the tiny Puerto Cate junction we turned south and the vistas turned mystical, great ragged peaks clawing and disappearing into the lowering clouds. Hand-tended coffee groves sheltered under tropical trees, cornfields climbed over steep rises, sheep and goats and pigs and turkeys wandered along the steep roadsides, and everybody wore traditional dress and stared at us. This is the heart of the Mayan highlands. And this is also Zapatista country. We saw some signs but kept going; too far to turnabout.

Other than some nervousness, a delighful and intriguing ride. Maureen said this terrain is as good as the Swiss Alps. Some of the drive reminded me of Northern California coast roads, without the water. Towns don't appear on the maps; where are we? An Army post guarded the road at one point; are we less nervous now?

CHAMULA ETC: We looped through the still-unfriendly towns of Chamula and Zinacantan, walked and patronized the artesans' streets, felt impending rain, brushed by a glowering gathering of goat-fur-clad men, and escaped alive. Certain purchases were made, the newly-repainted templo was observed from a safe distance; Jim explained that the atrium or forecourt separated the sacred from the secular, and we were definately the latter. Only a few drunks wandered around. A quiet Thursday.

Then back to SCLC for a great square pizza from PePe's, and an evening of debriefing. Plans were made; we may convoy into Guatemala in 1.4 weeks. But where will we store our booty until we return through here in a few months? We'll work something out.

DIA CINCUENTA DOS:
Viernes 8 April 2005, San Dionisio
San Cristobal (SCLC) - Friday night.

YAFF (Yet Another F***** Friday). I stayed inside all day FINISHING the image editing. Of course, we'll only go out and shoot more, but I'll worry about those tomorrow. The count so far: 5200 pictures, 6200 processed, and we're almost 1/3 of the way through our trip. Problem with the casita: it's comfy, so we don't HAVE to leave every day, go walking around. We're getting lazy. Except for the frenzied keyboarding, of course. Meanwhile, remind me to bitch about my camera.

DIA CINCUENTA TRES:
Sabado 9 April 2005, San Hugo
San Cristobal (SCLC) - Saturday morning.
Further observations by Maureen

THE DENTIST
I had a great time making appointments for dental cleaning all in Spanish. The price was quoted at $400 pesos (about $36 US) but I forgot to ask if that is each or both. Beats the $160 to $200 estimates, for each of us, that I got from Arizona dentists. Filling out the new patient questionnaire helped me add a few words and phrases to my vocabulary.

My neighbor Meli speaks Spanish well, and when the four of us are out together the guys have us do all the Spanish... ordering pizza, getting directions, making a deal etc. Ric knows his next big task, after processing all our photos is to dig into the Spanish books and tapes that we brought.

TO GO OR NOT TO GO
I spent some time going through our four guide books for Central America to learn about border rigmarole, and more importantly about web sites where we can research the current political situation. As Ric posted, all we found last week with Google searches was that the border into Guatemala at La Mesilla had been closed because of an anti CAFTA demonstration. There was also LARGE demonstrations in Guate City and Huehuetenango against CAFTA. The military tried to break up one of the demonstrations with tear gas, but finally resorted to live ammunition with which one demonstrator was killed. The border was closed when 'teachers' joined the protest.

CAFTA is very unpopular in Guatemala where the small farmers are certain that big business farming will end the small incomes they derive from selling a few extra vegetables and fruits. They are very afraid that they will either starve or need to find a way to illegally enter the states. The official line from Honduras is that CAFTA is welcome.

As of today it looks like Meli and Jim our neighbors (expats from Ft. Worth, Texas), will be going to Guatemala with us. We will spend about a week showing them around. Then they will return to San Cristobal and we will continue on to Honduras. We are off to the internet this morning to check out all those web sites for more information on current conditions.

CENTRAL AMERICA DREAMIN'
One of my big dreams is to see the ruins at Copan, Honduras. Our books describe the only road into the area as very rough and with several streams to ford. One book also recommends Monarcas Travel which will drive us there from Antigua for $15 each. I think we'll go for the tour since it is about the cost of gas and there will no risk of damaging our car.

We plan to spend two to three nights there. If it is hot, only the mornings will be good for exploring the ruins, and the museum is probably not air conditioned. Ric and I were very glad that we allowed two days to see Palenque. We scrambled up and down the ruins in the morning and then spent the afternoon somnambulant in the heat + 99% humidity. Copan is at a higher elevation, so maybe we will be more comfortable there. Quien Sabe (who knows)?

So far our loose plans for the south bound stay in Guatemala are one day to Huehuetanengo where we will overnight; then on to Panajachel to hopefully stay at the Hotel Monterrey that we liked so much the last time. From there we will take day trips to Solola and Chichicastenango for the markets. Then onto Antigua and from there the trip to Ruinas Copan. We will check the websites again for more news before we leave Antigua to continue southward.

CHIAPAS DELIGHTS
Yesterday we drove through an area of the Chiapan highlands that with different vegetation and people could have been Switzerland. An enormous mountain rose above the road into the clouds, towns were hanging on the edges below the road, and the steep cliffs continued down, down, below the road and out of sight. The small villages are Mayan and all the people wear the traditional clothes. Their homes are made of wood planks. There was a military outpost there, out in the boonies. No road blocks.

Only two more tourist things to do here in San Cristobal before we leave; the Maya Medicine Museum and the Na Balom house. More on those before April 17th when we leave San Cristobal. Tomorrow we go to Casa Mexicano for their fabulous Sunday Buffet. It is expensive for here, about $100 pesos (about $10 US). The expats tell us the food is excellent.

DIA CINCUENTA TRES:
Sabado 9 April 2005, San Hugo
San Cristobal (SCLC) - Saturday night.

YAES (Yet Another Easy Saturday). Lay around in the morning; walk to Pakal for lunch, then iNet. Send off a skeptical report to SkeptiChat-SkeptiLog. Walk around the Centro, peer at (and purchase) some artisan stuff, books. Evening, dinner and talk at Jim and Meli's. Meet the new neighbors, Bruno and Betty. Music rolling into the night; and dogs singing; and cat(s) scurrying over the roof; and falling stars.

DIA CINCUENTA CUATRO:
Domingo 10 April 2005, San Marcario de Gante
San Cristobal (SCLC) - Sunday morning.

Time to bitch about my camera. Longtime readers of these journals will recall that a year ago, whilst we were RVing around the US southwest, my beloved Sony DSC-V1 supercamera was mortally damaged, blown over on its tripod by a strong desert wind. Upon our return I sent it to Sony and they returned it, the munged motorized lens assembly replaced.

But in recent months I can't get clear pictures in normal light when the lens is zoomed out; it doesn't focus correctly, no matter how I diddle with the controls. Interestingly, that focus problem doesn't seem as severe when it's set to infrared mode, but that's possible only in dim light. So in daylight, the DSC-V1 can only be well-used for wide-angle or normal aspect shots. Bummer. And I can't send it back to Sony for further repairs until we return stateside. Further bummer.

But you readers haven't seen any pictures from this trip yet, so why should you care? OK, OK, now that I've finished the great labor of editing what we've already shot, I'll get some images posted here Real Soon Now. And I'll spare you from any further whining about cameras and my fervent desire for Something Better (like a digital SLR). I'll internalize.

SUNDAY EVENING: I'll bother to note that we laid around again today. Then we went out to lunch with Jim and Meli at an eatery featuring SOPA DE PAN (bread soup) which is eaten with a fork and has little bread but many vegetables. SOPA DE PAN is supposedly a Chiapas Sunday tradition, rather more bland and palatable than other Sunday traditions like menudo and mass.

And I'll bother to note that we strolled a few blocks in a new direction through an ancient part of SCLC, over to Na-Balom, which is named for the Blums, a Danish-English anthropologist-photographer team who worked with Lacondan jungle Mayas for many decades. Their house and garden are now a library, museum, store and hacienda-hostelry. We'll be back soon for the guided tour.

Otherwise, there ain't much to bother noting. We have a few cleanup-cultural activities planned for the next few days. Then we pack up and head south. Vaya con Cthulhu.

DIA CINCUENTA CINQO:
Lunes 11 April 2005, San Estanislao
San Cristobal (SCLC) - Monday morning.

I've finally gotten around to reading some old email and older ebooks. Prominent among the former is a bulletin from FAIR titled "Reviving Cold War Reporting on Nicaragua" [see Fair.Org for the text] which should concern anyone interested in Central America.

Of the latter, I'm currently on THE HISPANIC NATIONS OF THE NEW WORLD, by W.R. Shepherd (Yale, 1919), a pretty good historical overview of events before, during and after Latin American revolutions up to the post-WWI period. These numerous revolutions were mostly struggles between opportunistic factions that (in one guise or another) were basically Centralist or Federalist. Centralists wanted total control from the capitol, with states or departments organized as administrative districts only. Federalists wanted, not something like states' rights, but local autonomy -- feudalism for whichever warlords held any particular cities or regions. Remember that when you reflect on USAnian politics.

(Also remember that the brave Texican boys at the Alamo were fighting for feudalism and slavery. And note that in its first 55 years of independence, Mexico lived under 2 emperors, 45 presidents, and 27 assorted dictators, with up to 6 chief executives per year. Yow.)

Hopefully I'll make it through more Project Gutenberg ebooks before we leave: MAXIMILIAN IN MEXICO, by S.Y. Stevenson (New York, 1897-99); and THE PREHIS­TORIC WORLD: Or, Vanished Races, by E.A. Allen (Nashville, 1885); and a few on South America that I might not get to that until we head for Peru next year. And maybe I'll find something newer, too.

AFTERNOON: Maureen has started packing already for our departure next Sunday morning, stuffing all the nonessential goodies into a few smallish boxes. We'll try to find someplace to store those until we return here in 2-3 months. Hmm, I still have to check on current weather conditions at Ruinas Copan. And we haven't seen any news about Guatemalan borders and interiors. Hey cousins, what's happening there?

As I hinted a couple paragraphs back, our plans for the next year are evolving. The current fantasy is: return to Bisbee by the beginning of August, and to the Sierras by mid-August, for medical checkups etc in Sacramento. Then drive the little old RV up the Pacific Coast to the Olympic Peninsula and Vancouver Island and other cool regions south of Alaska, and thus pass late summer and autumn. Return to the Sierras and Bisbee for late autumn and winter. Then next winter or spring, fly to Peru and see Cuzco, Machu Picchu, Lake Titicaca, etc. (before we get too old and creaky). That trip will require a bit of altitude acclimation; we'll figure something out.

I've been stewing on a song for a few weeks now and it finally crawled out. Look to the right edge of the screen for Viva Las Zapatistas! (sic) -- a fast accordian two-step, Oacxacan or Texan or Polish or whatever. There are long instrumental breaks between verses. Don't forget to throw in some sound-effects -- gunshots, screams, falsetto laughter, et cetera.

EVENING: It was hot today, a good day for reading and reflection and sleeping lazily, slothfully. Gathering our strength for the upcoming weeks of travel, right. That's the excuse. Today is Maureen's nth birthday; she's sleeping through it.

I just realized something. SCLC is named for the martyred Saint Christopher (senor las Casas was a noted local politico whose name was tacked-on a century ago). But IIRC (if I recall correctly) Chris was dropped from the pantheon of saints some years back, there being no historical validation of his existence. Shouldn't the town's name be changed? How many San and Santa Whomevers exist worldwide, locales named for no-longer saints? Is this a geographical crisis?

(More personally: with St Christopher disenthroned, as it were, who is the current patron saint of travellers? What medal should I wear around my neck? Just an AAA logo or something? Or maybe a small compass...)

Besides other readings, I've also finished a small psychoceramic volume loaned by Jim, THE LOST TOMB OF VIRACOCHA: Unlocking the Secrets of the Peruvian Pyramids, by Maurice Cotterrell (London, 2001). By applying numerology, Revelations and creative art, the author manages to decode the mysteries of Egyptians, Mayas and Incas, the SuperGods who taught the SUPER-SCIENCE OF THE SUN, and reveals that procreation leads to death. Gosh! Should all travelers to the lands of those peoples read this? Borrow a copy and have fun noting all the errors in geography, science, history and rationality. Quite amusing.

And another book, another loaner from Jim, an absorbing can't-put-it-down account by a lost backpacker, BACK FROM TUICHI: The Harrowing Life-And-Death Story Of Survival In The Amazon Rainforest, by Yossi Ghinsberg (Random House, 1994). I've never been much tempted by wilderness backpacking, and this journal of a horrific journey in Bolivia merely ratifies my life-long disinclination for such an adventure.

O crap. I just ran an image-indexing program, and it devoured about 30 gigabytes -- all my original and processed photos are gone, not even in the recycle bin. Everything was backed up except about the last two weeks of processed pictures, and I can recreate those -- slowly, laboriously. I think there's a programmer I need to strangle.

DIA CINCUENTA SEIS:
Martes 12 April 2005, San Julio
San Cristobal (SCLC) - Tuesday morning.

Now is our appointed time for tooth-cleaning by the landlord-recommended dentist, his office on a main street past the Amber Museum. He's an older creole, said he'd practiced in Mexico City for twenty years, here in SCLC for another twenty-two. A striking-looking indian, new dental assistant is being trained -- the plainer, experienced aides look miffed. The equipment is old, the office a bit dusty, but his technique is good, no pain. The soundtrack is techno-lite -- Moby, etc. No pain.

NOONISH, we head to the Chedraui supertienda for supplies and their taco bar, custom-made guzzlers for US 36 cents each, only slight drizzlies later. In the parking lot I'm adding gas treatment and transmission fluid. A young fellow stops us, admires our car, asks what it's worth, offers to buy it. Call him if we change our minds. Then we go for a short spin out to the periphery, head back to the casita, and the day effectively ends.

DIA CINCUENTA SIETE:
Miercoles 13 April 2005, San Martin I.
San Cristobal (SCLC) - Wednesday night.

We laid around the casita, reading and writing and planning, then hit a closer iNet parlor. This one is in a satellite TV shop, not a travel agency or laundry or actual cafe (such are rare here). A faithful reader emailed us an article: CHRISTOPHER IS STILL A SAINT! (Thanks, Jacque!) And re: sounds of cats scuttling across the roof tiles, she sends this report:

"This is a nightly occurrence in San Juan, Costa Rica, according to my sister. At first they thought "burglars," but soon learned the cats roam from rooftop to rooftop (not enough space between houses to do so by ground and very tall fencing between backyards)."

SURVIVAL: We researched travel safety in Guatemala, looking at government advisory sites. The USA and New Zealand say nothing much; Britain, Canada and Australia issue stern warnings. I sent an email to our favorite hosteller in Antigua Guatemala asking for advice, and tried to goose our cousins for their take on matters. Hopefully we'll know soon whether or not to go south/east.

Our maintenance tasks are done, everything excrpt checking on storage for our goodies if/when we head south. No seamstress; Maureen stitched, much finer work than my big clumsy hands could have done. We found the right Dutch thread, 1/10 the USA price. Murkans are only rich because they charge each other so much. (And the Swiss are only rich because they charge everybody else so much. But I digress.)