Reminiscing in Funky Town

Domingo, 4 de enero 2004

As I sit here listening to sounds of my past, a slow lull reminds me that life is great, life is life, so says the singer...I remember hearing that song abour 7 years ago in France. By the side of the swimming pool...the single engine airplanes passing overhead. For some reason they sound nicer during the day. I guess it´s because I have this gypsy blood. For those who are reading and don´t know bulgarian or russian. Tsiganka means gypsy or gitano. When I look at a map I think to myself, I would like to go there, there and there, basically anywhere. I look at airplanes with fondness. Probably for having metaphorically growing up in one. As my father had a small airplane we took roadtrips in airplanes instead of cars. I promised myself I would learn one day, so one of you readers must oblige me to learn at one point. I remember going up in a glider with this German-Spanish pilot in Madrid. Back in the wilder of days of staying out until 7 in the morning, never going home without a cafe con leche and una tostada de aceite de oliva. Que Rico....I dream about those breakfasts. A night going out would never be complete without breakfast. Gliding above the clouds in the hot dusty summer air, floating...so vulnerable but yet full of life. They wrapped a parachute around me in case something happened, and then we were swimming in the pool...I was with Svante and Talita... Brazilians and Swedish....what a mix we all were.

Anyway, so I´m in San Marcos, a quiet little town by the Mexican border, where Carla is from. After talking with her family I´m beginning to realize the interestingness of the accent from up here. Like in other parts of the cordillera or mountain range, they can´t say the rr, they say rjay. a sortove mixture between the r and the jay...And like the non-porteños, people from buenos aires, they say jave instead of yave,meaning llave, or key.

So there is fog here like in San Francisco, which is super groovy. What I can´t stop thinking about is the fact that there are so many people walking around with heavy as hell stuff on their backs. bricks, food, branches.

Talk about hard work.

All these indigenous people walking around. From what I see from the posters they are doing a pretty good public relations campaign with getting indigenous peoples to vote here with a photo of an indigenous woman saying she will vote. Carla thinks that Rigoberta Menchu, this indigenous woman who is a human rights activist, Nobel Peace prize recipient and lawyer, could possibly win the presidency in a couple of years. Interesting thought, for some reason I think an indigenous woman would be more tolerant than an indigenous man. The thing is, to incorporate the entire population, all groups must be represented. Not just the indigenous people but the rich, the poor whites and other groups, someone respected widely by the community. Berger, the new president is doing something similar like that with Stein.

When we were driving on our way to Panajachel on the lake Atitlan, we stopped to have a coffee in this roadside place that looked decently nice. The bathroom was outside but had a nice mirror, running water, toilet paper. No soap but hey, you can´t get everything. But the poor guy who was attending to us seemed slightly slow. Quite slow actually. I asked if the coffee was nescafe or real coffee. As it was Nescafe, I declined but he seemed to think I had ordered it. And then he kept coming back to make sure the order was what we ordered. I had wanted guacamole, but apparently there were no avocados left. So i tried to order frijoles and crema, but alas, no sour cream for the beans. Apparently the man who delivers hadn´t come. When Carla showed up there, the waiter who had kept coming before wouldn´t come. So she poked her head into the kitchen. It was pretty funny. The poor guy was pretty slow in the head.

Another thing that i have been noticing is how short some of the indigenous women are. like girls of 13 or 14. around 4foot5 no more that´s for sure.


I swear the internet cafes all play the same music or at least listen to the same type of radio stations. They are playing a slow version of I have to break free by Queen, I heard the same thing in Jutiapa. Wierd... I heard the french techno song that we both like, Dani. I do think of you when I hear that. I once heard this wierd version of a song i know with a sound clip of baaaa baaaa of these sheep. Speaking of sheep, I saw a women tending to 5 sheep on leashes today. CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZZZYYYY stuff. Also saw some pigs on a leash.

´let me take you to funky town´ says the music. sure says I. I feel like there is a strobe light in my head with the UV protector thing on the screen. My head is spinning in circles with the music. Yes, perfectly sober am I. Maybe the altura (heights). There´s this great word in Spanish to get dizzy, apunarse, the Puna is a mountain range in argentina. My ex novio argentino did fet altitude sick when we were up there. And the gringa gitana had to drive him down the mountains. Remind me to tell you the story another day when I´m not rushed and trying to tell so much about Guatemala. But it´s a great road trip story. I really probably have too many of them. Kurt Vonnegut in Cat´s Cradle once said, Peculiar Travel Suggestions are dancing lessons from God. Reflect on that boys and girls and do something adventurous on my part... Kisses to all for the moment. Daniella chica where are you anyway? Feliz Año Nuevo, mi alma. And for my Vovichka, bueno mi amor, lo que tengo es tuyo. I will be sought soon by my boisterous Guatemaltecas. Beso beso.