*On the I LOVE LUCY SHOW Desi Arnaz used to say to Lucy Ball after a typical Lucy-type fiasco, “You have some ‘splainin’ to do, Lucy!”

I haven’t been writing so much.  You (all three of you) may have noticed?  Don’t feel the same urge, ya know?  And I think I have it ‘splained’ enough (to myself) that I can tell you why:  I am not really off-the-grid right now!

I mean, of course I am.  But I am not.   Antigua is pretty rustico at the very least and certainly a long way from the Canadian grid.  Hell, it is hardly well founded on the Guatemalan grid since most things break down or are in an advanced state of ruin.  So, technically, I am off the grid.

I am definitely off the sanegrid.

Chicken Bus

But I don’t mean these entries in that sense of the term, ‘the grid’. When I write this blog I mean (as a rule) living like a retired, out-of-the-lower-mainland-of-BC type guy.  A guy-in-the-forest carving a heroic frontier lifestyle out in the wilds with his trusty, loving partner at his side (or me at hers, whatever).  Ya know?  I am supposed to be the guy in the blurb at the head of the blog.  This isn’t that.  This is tourism.  Hiatus, at the very least.

Since I do not wish to start another blog (I did for China and Mexico), I am going to stick with this one.  But, just so you know, it feels a bit ‘fake’.  The next few weeks of entries – as is obvious, of course, – is not OTG in the rural islands of BC way.  It is a winter diversion……………..

…..which segues nicely to a point more germane to the blog heading: How to live off the grid in winter.

First suggestion: know in advance that winter can be bleak.  Plan for it.  We do.  We figure to ‘get away’ two winters out of three and, if we could find a real nice place to return to more often, maybe three times out of three.  Ideal time out?  Two months.

K enjoying a typical Breakfast

‘Snowbirding’  is a Canadian tradition and, for many Canucks more northerly or at least iced-in a lot, it is a necessary trip to ward off SADs or depression or ‘getting bushed’.  So, first off, know what you are up against.

For those of us in the temperate-if-not-balmy Gulf of Georgia, the pressure is not so great but it is still bleak to some extent.  Plus we are not as hardy as the real Northeners.

‘ Course, knowing what I know, I could make more of an effort to make the ‘bleakness’ of our local winters less so and, to that end, I have taken a step.  And that is: a hobby

Suggestion #2:  Have something to do indoors that can occupy your time constructively in the winter.  It has been proven beyond question that drinking heavily doesn’t work. Trust me.  But trials continue.

Whatever you do, it should ideally not just be more of the same ol’ stuff that you do all year around.  It really should be a ‘winter activity’.  I like to write but just doing more of it because the weather is bad is not a solution.  I need something different.

The woodworking shop is, I hope, going to become a significant winter attraction.  We’ll see.

Not convinced?  Just so you know, Valentines Day holds second place as the most popular suicide day of the year after Xmas.  Yes, love and the lack of it can do that to a person (remember NOT getting the valentine from the cute little red-headed girl, Charlie Brown?).  But it is more the effects of winter, the lack of sunshine, the confines of the artificial environment that really do it. January is tough.  February is tougher still.

Plus, of course, the bills from Xmas are due.  February is when we crack.  It is the month-of-choice for those voluntarily checking out.

So suggestion #3 is gettin’ the hell out of the old neighbourhood, the old rut, the old same ol’ same ol’.   And that usually means (for us) going south although, when we were cul-de-sacing it with the kids, we often just went skiing and that worked. Doesn’t matter how you do it, February-at-home should be avoided.  But that’s just my (and a bazillion snowbirds) opinion.

Suggestion #4 doesn’t work well enough to really count but it is a balm nevertheless.  I say ‘get in touch’.  T’is the month to reach out.   As we age (especially men), we lose touch with the people in our lives that we were once more involved with.  Parting, of course, is natural.  So being apart is also natural.  But it is just as ‘natural’  to reconnect and February is a good month for that.  Actually, January is the best month so that you then get responses by February – when you need them.

“HEY!  Is this blog post just some cheap trick to get e-mails you pathetic old geek?”

“Unh……….well, it didn’t start out that way………honest………… but, now that we are here………why not tell me how you feel about it?

I wrote a long piece yesterday about NGOs and gringos in Guatemala.  The gist?  They have done some good work and the progress is evident.  Especially amongst the Maya.  But I wondered in print whether or not some of that ‘ energy’  might be better spent at home.  It was a piece questioning the ‘white man’s burden’ syndrome.  And it was not fun.

Sal kiboshed it.  “Sweetie, I am not so sure your point is completely right and no one wants to hear about that sort of thing anyway.  Since we don’t have ravens and killer whales, write about some other bird or something.  People like birds.”

I can’t do that.  A man’s gotta do…….ya know………but I will spare you the ‘political’  and socio-political points of view.  I guess that sort of thing is boring unless you happen to be in the middle of it.

Ben has been ill since he got here.  A form of tourista, Montezuma …..debilitating and demanding.  It has been draining.  Literally.  But he is a ‘trooper’ , just like his mom, and he has basically ‘kept up’  and been a good sport.  But, on day five, he is still ill.

I got ill, too.  Two days ago.  The Antigua Amoeba.  Or maybe I contracted B’s disease.  I dunno.  But when it came time to climb the volcano, I stayed home and slept it off.  A lot of sleep and a few cups of Mayan herbal tea and I am good to go.  In fact, this week was my birthday (64) and I feel good.

That Mayan herbal tea is a lot more effective than the Lomotil, Pepto-bismo and antibiotics that B has been trying.  I think he will be switching remedies today.

The Mayan herbal tea is called something like Ajanjo (aah-hinko is what it sounds like) and is, after a Google search, simply wormwood.  And wormwood, it seems, grows everywhere.  I may just plant a patch when I get home.

I really should have started these blogs out differently.  A bit of the actual experience rather than my interpretation.  So, here:

We landed Guatemala City at 5:00 am.  The airport was pretty much deserted as you might expect.  Entry was easy.  Border control, customs….everything easy and friendly and non intimidating. When we were ready to leave we approached the big aluminum sliding doors to the ‘outside’ and they opened automatically just like you’d expect. But, as you stepped out of the airport, you stepped into a cordoned off space about 100 feet by 30 running parallel to the front of the building.  The cordon was made up of half-height metal fences made of thin metal bars like the kind you might see at a concert that would be used to ‘herd’  the crowd in the right direction.  Barriers to be sure but easily breached.

On the other side of the barriers was a crowd of about 150-200 people.  Some were looking for arrivals.  Others were looking for taxi-fares and still others were there hawking various swindles and ‘packages’.  Before 6:00 in the morning, the touts and hawkers were on duty and kept at bay only by spindly barred fences and a few policia.  They screamed their messages at you.  In Spanish, of course.

We were expecting Victor.  He was scheduled to pick us up and, after a few minutes contemplating the horror of his not showing up, he was there.  He was a welcome sight.

‘Veek-Tore’  got us in his van and we promptly headed out.  We wove our way through G-city and drove to Antigua.  45 minutes.  Maybe an houir.  Traffic was heavy at times.  Especially on the outskirts of the city where the country buses were disgorging the daily workforce to the impatient embrace of the city buses.  That wave of humanity would disperse into the urban maelstrom but, at 6:00 ish, they were just amassing at the borders of the city.  I can’t imagine what time these people woke up to get dressed, catch the bus and be on the city fringe by 6:00.  Even Veektore had to have gotten up at 4:30 to hook up with us.

G-city has a bad rep.  Everyone advises tourists to avoid it.  If you must go there, be quick, stay safe and only travel in the day time.  We skipped it entirely.

More later.

Sorry.  So far, no birds of note.  I’ll try harder.

Yep.  You read right.  Mayans with blackberry smartphones.  Fancy watches, cars, jewelry and other mod cons, too.

We went out of town yesterday to explore the nearby non-touristy villages a few miles out of Antigua.  The drive out was easy.  Diesel spewing buses loaded to the rafters and a swarm of bikes, scooters and motorcycles everywhere on a road system bereft of signage but, all in all, it was mostly just one road and thus easy.

Sunday Market

We got to San Antonio after about 40 minutes and parked at the square.  The nearby artisans market beckoned but we tried to resist.  We really don’t need any more blankets and saying “No, gracias.” with a fake smile gets tiresome and sometimes a bit guilt inducing.

Anyway – been there, done that.

But, of course, Sal peeked in and we were sucked into the Mayan market like it was a vortex for wallets.  First ‘personality’ was Maxima.  She has six kids and she is putting them all through school as a single mother.  Mind you, she had a blackberry, more jewelry than Lindsay Lohan and her beautiful smile was gold encrusted.  Her almost perfect English indicated that this lovely lady was not poor and no longer part of the old Mayan peasant culture.  My guess?  Her new Toyota was parked out back.

And there is nothing wrong with that!

We stopped for afternoon tea at a nice hillside restaurant and Alida greeted us with perfect English.  Her blackberry stashed in her colourful Mayan sash. She had the bearing of a Washington hostess.  Shorter by far but still very gracious and welcoming.

We talked about Guatemala and the apparent ‘rise’ in status and influence of the Mayans as opposed to 35 years ago when they were visibly oppressed. She reported that it was all different now.  No longer as oppressed, they are free to get into business, develop lines of credit and import and export.  And they do.  Quite a few of them do, it seems.

Apparently they are also pretty good at it.  Alida’s mother (Alida senior) has an e-mail for the purpose of exporting. Alida’s.textiles@conexión.com

Her family has many ventures underway including the ubiquitos weaving and other tourist paraphernalia.  And she regretted that not just a few of the locals were in the drug trade.

Her family imports used cars from the US and a lot of the men are away from home a lot.  We learned that a goodly portion of the local families were separated with the men and some of the women working in Mexico and the US and, of course, doing so to send money home to families. The price: divided families.

They may still be lacking the benefits of a gringo life but, by hard work, family cooperation, a few tools (such as credit lines) and a willingness to break the occasional law, they were getting ahead.  Financially, anyway.  Prize at the end just for showing up?  A Blackberry.  Prize for going the distance?  Enough saved to buy a house or, at least.a ‘lot’ in town.

“How much do you have to pay for a lot in town?  Say, a nice lot in a good neighbourhood but not the best part?” 

” $40 to $60,000 US dollars not counting building the house.” 

Assuming the house costs at least the same to build, these Mayans are paying a minimum of $100,000 to buy a cement block, tin roof ‘bunker’ in an off-the-beaten track village 25 miles from Antigua, Guatemala.

And they can get a mortgage if they own the land.

Admittedly, it is a better ‘lifestyle’ than that of the villages we saw decades before.  The kids are healthy.  The people are clean and busy.  Even the dogs look a bit better.  But, it would seem that the price of admission is  pretty high.  Throw in a blackberry account, a Toyota and some trinkets and I am not so sure that there is a helluva lot of difference in income between them and your average Canadian.  Certainly not if you use Alida or Maxima as your comparison.

Better put: it would seem the international playing field is leveling.  Some of that seems good.  Some of it seems bad.  But all of it is happening and, to be frank, the rural Canadian, by comparison, is not keeping up.  Not in ‘entrepreneurship’, that is for sure.

And, I guess, there is nothing wrong with that……………………

I’ve been mewling a bit over the fact that Antigua is NOT an adventure.  Sorry.  My bad,  It was never intended to be one.  It was intended to be a nice place to go to escape the Wet Coast winter and, in that regard, it succeeds very well.

My excuse: I think I was approaching this vacation with my old-fashioned traveling mindset.  You know, like an Indiana Jones wanna-be?

We never used to travel for a vacation.  Not really.  Well,we went for a vacation-as-change versus a vacation-as-‘rest’.  The theory has always been a change is as good as a rest and laying about on the beach simply was not enough change nor rest for us.  So, our ‘habit’  has always been to ‘fling ourselves’ into some place and ‘wing it’ in some weird way and cope as best we could thus encountering some adventure in the process.

We’re a bit old for that kind of thing now.  Hard to wing it convincingly when you insist on a shower and martini at the end of the day.  So this time was supposed to be different.

And it is.  It is conventionally ‘restful’ and very nice.  I kept looking for the adventure but, except for the crime and violence of Guatemala City (which we avoided like the plague) there really isn’t any. This is just nice.  Finding the best restaurant?  Learning to drive the old diesel Land Rover|?  Wending our way through mercados and super mercados and trying to find a working ATM?  Winging it?  Yes.  Adventure?   I don’t think so.

No, I think the problem was with me.  I came with an expectation of adventure (like the old days) and yet we had really planned for a vacation in a nicer climate with plentiful avocados.  We aimed low. And we hit the target.

Still, there is a chance.  We’ll take the Rover on a tour of the area around Antigua over the next few days.  The house rules restrict the wandering to a 25 km/mile radius but that includes a dozen small villages and so we may find something of non-touristy interest there.  We are not permitted to go further for reasons of car-jacking reports.

I am not feeling so adventuresome that I need to violate that safety perimeter on purpose.

We’ll likely just have a very nice time.

I think ‘nice’  is going to show up a lot in the blogs for a while.

Which is just fine.  It is the weather not the adventure.  It is the weather NOT the adventure.  IT IS THE WEATHER NOT THE ADVENTURE!

Mindset change required.  And I’ll get there.  Eventually.  Sal?  Well, Sally has a deeper adventure streak than me so we’ll see.  Next thing on her agenda is climbing the most active volcano and descending into the centre.

So long as the martini and shower routine is not disturbed, it should be nice, doncha think?

Back on the same theme: logistics can be a nightmare.  And some issues are more critical than others.

The kids are currently not able to access their accounts.  Different problems but same distance and difficulties away from an easy solution.  Good thing they are with us when it happened.  While we were checking banks to try and sort out their problem we ran into another young woman encountering the same kind of problem.  She was experiencing a bit more stress about it all.  E-banking has it’s drawbacks and it is hard to anticipate what might happen.

Seems theft and e-fraud is really wide-spread and rampant in countries like Guatemala.  People instruct tourists to use the bank machine and then, after the cash withdrawal, repeat the process using a false PIN number (which, of course, will not go through).  Seems that step thwarts the current style of e-pilfering.  I guess it serves to ‘ erase’  something.  Not a good sign.

Who does this sort of thing?  Sophisticated thieves in Antigua, Guatemala?  The ones on scooters instead of mules?   But more vexing is who thinks up the solution and how does that go viral amongst the tourists?  I think the six degrees of separation theory comes into play here.

I must admit that I don’t really worry too much about all this.  I should.  But I don’t.  We’ve been ‘used’ before by some criminal who used a carbon copy of a Visa receipt and ran up about $3000 worth of purchases before I went to use my card again and was then notified.  Seemed the buying pattern didn’t fit my profile and Visa first stopped my card, then notified me and then rolled back everything.

Interesting to note that the purchase that tipped them off was a long distance call to Hong Kong..  They didn’t expect that from me but they do expect it from frauds. I am telling you that Visa ‘expects’ me to go to Guatemala more than they expect me to phone Hong Kong.  And they are right!

This is just a small part of the underbelly of globalization.  Now we can be ‘ attacked’  by international criminals.  Seems weird but, when you think about it, thievery manifested before in our travels only by pilfering.  Now it can happen without you even knowing it from a source you wouldn’t know existed.

We live in interesting times.

I’d forgotten how much time is spent ‘taking care of chores’ when you are on the road.  Having a home base makes it a helluva lot easier, of course, but, when you rent a house, you have to make it a ‘home’  before you can ‘base’  from it.  So we had to ‘do stuff’ to make it work for us. Chores start at home base.  And Sal started by rearranging the furniture!

Don’t ask.

But once she had worked the OCD kinks out of her system we could get on with more practical matters.  We needed some basics.  We decided to go shopping.  But, of course, shopping means money and money means ATMs and Guatemala means ATMs that don’t work.  So, one spends a while hunting ATMs down to ‘try them out’  for inventory.  Most are empty.

But we eventually found one.  So Sal got $Quatzales and off we went.  But, by now, it is hot (say, 30 degrees C) and so we shop until we are dripping and decide to take our toilet paper back home and have a cup of tea.  What a growth experience, eh?

Actually, it is not bad at all.  Mundane at times.  Boring.  Tedious to be sure.  But all around the edges of these routine chores, one is mingling with the people, seeing things Guatemalan and, in some inexplicable way (osmosis?), absorbing the ‘life’  of the place.  It is an odd way to ‘grow’ as a person – go buy toilet paper, eggs, milk and bacon.  Learn how their systems works.  Chat a little with the sales clerk.  Come away with a sense of Guatemala.

Some people do it by sitting around the pool.  All inclusively.  Whatever.  Each to their own, I guess.

Yesterday we had to meet B&K at the bus depot.  Sounds simple enough.  But it isn’t.  Seems the bus depot occupies an area of approximately four city blocks, maybe a bit larger.  But it is not 4 blocks but one huge one with a myriad of entrances (entrada) and exits (salida) along with a marketplace and an artisans museum jammed along the edges.  Mechanicos, cafes and a shipping/receiving operation join the hawkers and harassers melee and, of course, there are at least 200 buses coming and going all day long with a dozen or so on the move at any one time.  Absent any order or signage or even an identifiable front entrance, and it is like trying to find someone at the Pacific National Exhibition on a sunny August weekend.

“Hey, meet you at the PNE on Sunday at noon.  OK?”  

“Yeah!  I’ll be there.  See ya then!”  

You would have no chance at all meeting up with only those statements to go by.  And so, it seems, it is the same way at CA bus depots.  If you need to meet someone at a bus depot, you simply cannot rely on a main entrance or a waiting area.  Or even a front, back and sides.  Everything comes and goes as it sees fit.  You have to be way more specific when making a meeting place.  But we lucked out.  Sal went a’hunting through the crowd and saw K in the distance.  She shouted out.  B was off in another direction but heard his mom’s shout.  And we all eventually got together.

Adventure.  Kinda.

So you spend the day getting toilet paper and picking up money and family and, for all intents and purposes, you could be home doing the same thing only with a great deal more ease (not to mention signage).  But you are not at home and it is mostly the challenge and the madness (to us) of the setting that makes the trip really a trip.

Weird eh?

My son B & lovely K are here!  A miracle of logistics!  Really nice to have them join us.

Took us a day or so to ‘adjust’, but we are now ‘in the flow’, we know where things are and find ourselves lost only half the time now.  We are basically good.

Antigua is beautiful.  No question.  But, it has gone over to the tourist side, Luke. It has sold out, I am afraid. This is a place to be ‘seen’ and for old travelers to ‘look cool’.  The young backpacking crowd don’t seem to linger.  Too expensive for them.  Not authentic enough.

I find myself somewhere in between the old ‘wanna-be-seens’ and the adventurers.  I love the house.  I love Anna, our two-day a week housekeeper and I really enjoy having the Land Rover at our disposal but this is NOT an adventure.  This is NOT a learning, world-opening experience.  It is just a nice place to kill two winter months.  And that is just fine by me but I confess to feeling as if I, too, have sold out a bit.  I really do appreciate having a hot shower and ice cubes. And I never liked hiking miles in the hot sun with a heavy pack.  Seemed pointless then.  Seems even more so now.   I guess we have gotten spoiled.

Still, there is a restless bone or two still rattling around.  I kinda wanna ‘get off the beaten track and go exploring.  We’ll see.

It’s pretty safe here, as well.  Nothing, so far, has even suggests ‘danger’.  The people are great, very friendly.  Even tho the prices of things might suggest a bit of cynicism a la tourism the people are still genuine and gracious.  The mood is good. We are relaxed.  Having said that, we are encountering ‘ characters’ as one always does while traveling.

John and Robin introduced themselves to us early on the morning we had arrived.  We were in a little cafe  waiting for the house to get cleaned up and we were practically comatose after 30 hours without sleep.

“Hola, gringos! You two should join us with your coffees!” offered John. He and Robin loomed over our table and they beamed a serendipitous  friendship at us, smiling just a few watts shy of what a used car salesman or a realtor might normally generate if you just walked into their office.   I would have hit him if I wasn’t too tired to get up.

“Too kind.  Thanks.   But we’re good.  Anyway, I might fall asleep on your bagel.  We’re not good company.”

” Oh, right!  Came in on the red eye special eh?  Yeah, no sleep.  Been there.  But we are here now and lovin’ it!  (big grin) I just love to come here for an early coffee before watching the church open across the square.  Love watching the people come in to worship.  It’s great!”

“Doesn’t sleeping hold more appeal?  I mean it is 6:30 in the morning and you want to watch people go to church?  Do you go, too?”

“Nah.  Not catholic but the church is really beautiful.  I always enjoy it.” 

So, there you have it.  Some people watch birds.  Some sight-see.  Still others have been known to train-spot and I know a few guys who like to plane-spot.  These guys got up early to Catholic spot.  No wonder they came to Central America!

John is 65-ish.  Charming.  Big smile.  Extra white.  Canadian.  Told us about Antigua.  Golf.  Good restaurants.  Robin was nice.  Easy going.  She was American.  They seemed to be friends.  And they seemed as ‘familiar’ with the city as if they had both been coming here for years – not necessarily with each other but plenty of times nevertheless.  She even has her own place here.  Sorta like a vacation haunt.

As I considered the eccentricity of this, I fell into a coma and fell forward into the remains of my bagel.  Just before I lost consciousness, I thanked them for the travel tips, wished them a pope-spotting sometime in the future and agreed to meet up at a fancy restaurant next week.

They were gone when I woke up.  I am going to user that ploy again in future.

Traveling can be a slog.  And it was the last couple of days.  We had decided to break the trip into two legs so as to provide more interest and less ‘ endurance’ in-the-air time.  Good plan, theoretically, especially when there was a required lay over of five hours anyway.  The Sheraton Gateway was a good place to stay and they ‘hosted your wait time’ even when the room day was over.  We killed more than a few extra hours by the pool rather than in the airport.

But hours are hours no matter how you look at it and we were in transit a long time.  By the time we got to our rented house in Antigua at 11:30 yesterday morning, we had been awake for thirty hours straight. Normally I try not to exceed half of that.

It helped no end that my seatmate on the plane was a Christian Republican who loved G.W. Bush and wished he was still in office so that the US could invade and take over Mexico and Guatemala.  This was interesting because he was, in fact, Guatemala/American himself and simply believed that the US was the land of milk and honey-money and that the world would be better off run by Washington.  We didn’t argue (I don;t do that much anymore) but I listened fascinated and contented myself with asking a few difficult questions.  It was entertaining.

Next time (if there is ever a next time), I’ll just try for the shortest duration  overall, entertaining seatmates notwithstanding.  Breaking it up just didn’t quite pan out. No complaints tho.  Had it gone to 31 hours, I might have gone a little nutty but 30?  Piece o’ cake.

Last night, we ventured out.  Old rented-with-the-house Land Rover at our disposal, we drove into town. for dinner  OHMYGAWD!  I had forgotten what ‘developing’ nation’s infrastructures were like.  We barreled along with motorcycles, chicken buses, trucks and cars down the cobble-stone streets in the pitch dark with pedestrians, bicyclists and donkey-wagons looming along the ill-defined edges without so much as a hint of light or reflective tape.  Sheesh.

And the city of Antigua itself?  Completely alive and hopping!  Streets and restaurants  were crowded, sidewalks full, motorcycles and scooters zipping about.  It was ‘lively’  and friendly and busy, busy, busy.  Generally speaking, it felt safe and welcoming but the overwhelming impression was one of “getting along nicely, thank you!”  There are, of course, a lot of poor people scraping by but the immediate impression is one of a thriving economy, at least in this town, the most popular destination in the country.

In fact, our airport-shuttle driver and ‘at-your-service’ guy attached to the rented house pointed out the larger, nicer homes in downtown Antigua which he claimed fetched over $2M US!!!  And these are not houses that ‘look’ like they are in that bracket.  We were shocked!

Alamos in northern Mexico is a restored Spanish colonial town about 15% the size of Antigua.  San Miguel Alende is a mid-country Mexican city recreated in a similar gringo-influenced and occupied theme and about 1.5 times larger than Antigua.  These places attract gringos and they then become touristy.  Some nortanericanos are so drawn, they buy in.  Then, of course, they sell out to newly infatuated gringos because only gringos can afford to buy the now-updated and restored villas.  Thus gringos create a market within a market.  And some kind of weird amalgamation of displaced-but-now-working locals hang on at the periphery catering to the rich and funky who have moved in to enjoy what used to be a traditional lifestyle which they alter wholly by their presence.

The result?  It’s a theme park.

Iglesia La Merced

It is not a bad thing, I suppose.  But it is definitely an off-shoot of the globalization phenomena.  And, it does have a few ugly aspects like the McDonalds on the town square and that sort of thing.  On the other hand, the indigenous Mayans are doing better.  They have more opportunities, better education, more money………all the things they want. They look better.  Healthier.  And they are not in the least bit reticent or shy like they used to be the last time we were here thirty-four years ago.  Less charming, perhaps, but still kind and gentle.

Sunday Market

For them, it has not changed so much anyway.  They still live in their villages.  They still work for the ‘man’ .  But this ‘man’ is well off, polite, respectful and not feared.  Even better, these gringos help out in clinics, organize things and are pretty generous as well.   Gringos aren’t loved so much as tolerated and, sometimes, even liked somewhat. But they are not ‘homies’ and the locals seem to mostly and basically just suffer them gladly. Hard not to – they are definitely the economic backbone of the area.

More to follow….

Stage 1: Read Island to Richmond and dinner with friends last night.  Fabulous meal.  Lots of fun sitting around and discussing geriatric issues and minor travails of life.  Seems everyone is getting old and crotchety.  We really know how to have a good time talking inconvenience, fatigue, aches and pains. Maybe we took a few swipes at the BC ferry corporation, traffic congestion, gas prices, irresponsible dog owners and taxes, of course. All with a grin, a joke, a wry expression.  Fun, actually.  In bed by 9:30.

Flying into LA

Stage 2:  YVR to LAX.  We were on the airport shuttle bus with another retired couple our age.  She was in the same category of cute as Sal but, of course, not in the same league.  Smiley.  Chirpy.  And full of ‘travel’  talk. Real cute in a California-Whole-Foods-Pilates kinda way.  Ya know?  Really white teeth? I liked them.  Kinda.  (The couple, not the teeth.)  But they were leaving Canada and going to Thailand with a tan!  How is that possible?

That kind of thing disturbs me in a weird kind of way.

They are on their way to Thailand again.  Ninth time.  Golfing.  They made the town of Bang Pa-In sound pretty good, though.  The king has a palace there.  Lots of inexpensive, good golf.  May have to reconsider next trip.  I like golf.  I like the king.  I like cute.  And I love Thai food.  We’ll see.

I’ve been communicating with my son by way of his and his partner’s new blog.  It is: World Tour 2012 – K,B.C and will chronicle their round the world trip over the next four months. They are in Belize and we all plan to meet up in Guatemala in a few days.That is kind of neat if we manage to pull it off but it is sometimes hard to execute plans when Belizean and Guatemalan chicken buses are involved.  We’ll see how it goes.

More travel stuff still to come.  But, as you know, there is not much interest in airports and hotels.  Well, there is, actually, but I am sure that Homeland Security is watching us and tapping into our Wi-fi.  Gotta play it smart.  Guatemala, not Guantanamo is the desired destination.

We think we know how to ‘dip’ below the radar.  We’ll settle into a ‘comatose-like’ state and just try to get through our day without getting involved with the CIA, FBI, LAPD or the US health care system.  One step at a time.  Low profile.  Discrete. Heavily insured.  I didn’t even comment when Security had me take off my shoes!  Security camera sees me and Sal:  “Duh….(hold luggage while standing in the middle of a crowd while looking stupid and harmless saying)….which way is our gate?”

Funny.  Travel is so much different these days.  Not all of it good.

Day one.  2012.  Happy New Year.  So far, so good.  But I pity the poor Mayans, eh?  Talk about existential angst.  They can’t even make hair appointments with any confidence.  No future in their calendar. Literally.  Hell, I don’t think they even have a calendar* anymore!

“Hey, José, you wanna go for some cerveza?”

“Si, amigo.  When?”

“Gotta be now, don’tcha think, bro?  I mean, like, there is no more ‘manana’ for us anymore, man.  Get it while you can, compadré!” 

‘Course, wouldn’t ya know?  We are heading for Mayan country in a few days.  Ground zero.  Literally.  Who knows if there will even be a there there, ya know?  Like, maybe we are stepping into a tear in the time/space continuum or something………..

Normally, I wouldn’t think of separating off a whole portion of the world due to a prophesy of doom but then Samoa disappeared for a whole day** the other day.  If that can happen, then the Mayan world can end too.  Makes sense.  Kinda.  I’ve seen how these things can work.  We watch movies.

But we aren’t going to worry about it.  Nothing I can do to stop the Mayan world from ending.  And, if they go, well, we are all likely to go right along with them.  That’s my take on it, anyway.  Go with the flow.  “See ya in Hell!”

Sal’s pretty sure that it is going to be OK, tho.  ‘Specially since she has a reserved seat in heaven.  Same ol’, same ol’ for her.  One paradise for another as far as she is concerned.  She’s still paying bills and making plans.  One of us will be able to say, “I told you so.”

Maybe.

Anyway, she is living and working as if there is going to be a tomorrow…………………… and one after that……………  One thing for sure – eventually the tomorrows end for everyone and there are few million Mayans predicting that such a time is nigh.  Whatever.

I think we can safely say that there is a consensus on termination for all of us.  It is just a matter of time.  I just didn’t think we’d all go out together.

I hate line-ups.

Anyway, we’ll continue on.  Good ol’ denial til the end, eh?  We’ve gotten good at that over the years.  Should be easy this time, too.  No sense in facing reality til ya hafta, I guess.  Do not put off til tomorrow what you can put off today, I say.

Tomorrow we pack, close down the house and ship the dogs off to a friend.  A few days of transit and then we’ll be in Central America.  After we have had enough of warm, cheap and corrupt, we’ll return home to cold, expensive and corrupt.  Some things remain the same wherever you are.

But this trip is a bit different.  I am surprised to hear myself not waxing too enthusiastic about another adventure.  For the first time in my life, I have a home that makes me feel homesick when I am away.  Even tho I am not keen on January-on-the-wet-coast, I must confess to being much more of a home-body than I have ever even considered before.  I just never felt the draw of ‘home’ before.  Not so much, anyway.  I will be glad to get back.

And I haven’t even left yet!

That should not suggest that I do not want to go.  I do.  It is just that, as I age, I am not as ‘keen’ to travel as I once was.  I am just not as excited.  It will be good.  It will be fun.  And it will be interesting, warm and relaxing.  Even nostalgic in Chichicastenango.  All good stuff.  But this time I am not getting away so much.  It used to be that the tension and stress of my earlier ‘working’ life demanded that I get away now and then.  But I don’t have those kinds of incentives anymore.  Nothing is holding me against my will.  I like it here.  It’s just different, somehow.

Anyway, the blog will continue, of course (some things remain the same wherever you are).  A few more interruptions, probably.  But it is a journal and, unless the Mayans are right, I’ll keep writing my days out.  Til they stop.

*The Mayan calendar goes til December 2012, actually, but there is so much havoc and destruction to wreak that I am just writing off the whole year.

**Samoa – in a fit of economic optimism – jumped the international dateline to benefit their trading partners and lost a whole day in the process – December 30th.)