AWare wandering in a wonderful world

The beautiful and mysterious Lago Altitlan, peaceful by day and festive by night.

Some pics of NYE celebrations by the lake and, not the most stable yoga at dawn to see in the new year.

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With verb conjugations ringing in my ears, I needed a break from spanish lessons. I found myself a couple of travel companions, a Danish folk violinist named Kirstine and a crazy Italian girl with strong political nouse on a human rights mission and we hit the road.

Antigua

A much raved about place for its architecture and relaxed vibe. Less cluttered and raw than Xela, it certainly felt like a tourists haven. Lots of overpriced markets and talented local musical families, we spent much of our time milling around enjoying cafes and margarita on roof terraces.

The nightlife is dominated by Irish bars, which we endulged in for one night only, but were glad to get away.

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Semuc Champey

A long bumpy bus ride away and we pulled into Il Retiro hostel on the river front in Lankin, the gateway to the beautiful waterfalls and plungepools of Semuc Champey. We swam through bat filled caves (Indiana Jones style) by candle light in the morning and treked up to the pools in the afternoon. Challenged by hostel staff to a game of evening jenga, and a threat of the loser being thrown into the river, I made sure I had a steady hand.

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I had my belongings taken off me, was padded down and searched. The sounds of the prison gates closed behind me.
I was inside a remand prison for women, invited to volunteer to help put on a xmas party for the forty inmates and their children held there. One of the many projects afliliated with the spanish school, christmas time was one of the times where students are aksed to give their time to help.

Shuffled into a side room to be shown around, I thought we maybe in the laundry room but it soon became clear that the cramped space we had entered, was the one and only cell in the place, where everyone slept. Bunk beds pushed together with very little floor space in between and a bedsheet like cloth pulled across them, privacy was something that these women were not accustomed to. Tucked away in the corner, a toliet with a curtain covering it. The space could hardly be classified as a room, more of a hole in the wall. I was told that a few months ago, there was nothing at all and women had to use buckets or any containers they could find during cell time. The toilet was one of the visible results of the donations from ICA spanish school and the obviously warm relationship the staff had with inmates was another although it was clear that they was a desire to do more.

We were told what we could give was love and friendship, hugs and laughter.The cynic in me thought why would these women want hugs from us? They are likely to give us strange looks or run a mile. not for the first time and I'm sure not the last, I was proved wrong.

As we emerged from their quarters preparing games and prizes, the women were running around giggling like children in a playground. We were devided into groups in circles and had to catch other groups of people to get prizes. Piñatas and salsa music followed and I was grabbed by a women on the side who took much pleasure in laughing at my pathetic efforts to wiggle my hips like hers. She was definitely leading.

Before leaving, one women pulled a few of us into her tiny bed space to show us some of the crochet work she was working on. Many of the women who can get hold of materials, make stuff to sell. She was open and willing to talk to us about some of the realities she and other women face behind bars. All of the women are awaiting trial from anything from stealing chickens to drug offences. Most have been abused by a family member or partner and have nothing on the outside to keep them going.

I was surprised and refreshed about their welcoming and openess to us and as the gates clanked again behind us at the end of the evening and they walked back into their cells as we walked into freedom, I knew I would be thinking of them for the rest of my travels.

-photos to follow once they have been sent to me!!-

A bus ride away from Guatemala City, I arrived in Quezeltanango or Xela as it is called. Up 2300 metres above sea level and surrounded by volcanoes it is blistering hot when the sun shines on you and freezing cold when it is not. I was enrolled in ICA spanish school to brush up my language skills before embarking on travels around Latin America. Like many of the Spanish schools in the region, it has a social conscience and donated money and provides volunteers for local projects in the area. The staff have a way of bringing you into the community so you live more like a local than a tourist and those that don't mind the colder weather find it hard to leave.

During the few weeks I was there, I was introduced to salsa dancing, local festivals, taught how to make blankets and carpets, met one of the most influencial Mayan shamens, lived with a local family and volunteered in the local women's prison.

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Local traditions and festivities are rife around Christmas time, some frowned upon by the locals. Dia del Diablo, was avoided by many, however intrigue got the better of me. In a tiny pueblo called San Cristobal the annual event brings all the villagers and a few outsiders out into the streets. Devils painted head to toe in oil paint run through the streets. As the day wore on, crowd members were chased and hugged by members of teh parage and everyone gets covered in paint. Tourists and young people that provoke the crowd bear the brunt of the tradition...

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Thelma and Luis, a far cry from the runaways in the film, are a husband and wife team that became one of my favourite families. They have five children and live by the markets of Momostenango. Carpet, rug, scarf and blanket makers, the whole family play a role in their business. Students from the spanish school were invited in to learn their trade and cooked tortillas with cheese and avocado - a local favourite.

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Brazil has been all about new beginnings. Not just for me on my travels, but for my friend Alice and her husband Fabiano’s new born son, Louie.

I decided to start my trip in Sao Paolo to visit this new family and learn a bit more about what it is like to live in one of the world’s ‘megacities’. Sao Paolo is home to almost 18 million people and traffic jams that put even London rush hour in perspective so I had a sense there must be plenty of stuff going on.

I stayed in Pinheiros (meaning pine trees in Portuguese, even though I didn’t spot many) where Alice and Fab bought a beautifully spacious flat a year ago. The area reminded me of a mix between a dilapidated New York and the area I grew up in in Rome. High rise buildings and a mixture of old and new skyscrapers fill the skyline. The city has been building upwards to make space for the growing number of inhabitants. Underneath, a bustle of people chatting, smoking and hanging outside of trattoria style eateries drinking local beers or coffees. A very European style disregard for zebra crossings and traffic lights and a need for pedestrian bravery to get across the roads. The weather hot and muggy, scorching in the morning and almost on cue, tropical showers in the afternoon.

The people are friendly, if a little nosey. The women have a sense of pride in style and glamour also carry an air of fussiness and over protectiveness. We experienced a few pram peekers who weren’t scared to air their views.

Little Louie was born into the city only seven weeks ago. Alice was determined to have a completely natural birth, despite going against the grain in Brazil. A shocking figure of over 80% of women give birth by cesarean section, mostly out of choice in Sao Paolo, either for pride in appearance reasons or for easy and convenience. This is not helped by the doctors, who encourage c-sections, as it makes their lives easier, too. Despite objections and concern from family and friends who considered natural births dangerous, Alice located one of the only birthing centres in one of the poorer parts of the city and did it completely naturally and drug free. (Brave woman!) Her birthing partner took photos and videos of the experience which she shared with me whilst staying with her. She admitted that it was extremely painful but the whole experience looked so beautifully admirable and calm and despite being a far cry from local tradition, I thought it was a perfect way for Louie to begin his life in a busy megacity.

My beginning was all about a fresh start and experiencing new things around the world. After an emotional and stressful year, with many twists and turns, Sao Paolo was the start of preparing for the year ahead of traveling alone. Before leaving snowy London, I reflected on the times I have done this in the past and all the rewarding, random and unforgettable experiences I had from my first ever solo trip in Berkeley, California, to gallivanting around Australia, Tanzania and Bolivia. At dinner on my last night in London, my parents reminded me about the time I called them from California after two days saying I was homesick. (I soon got over it and didn’t want to leave.) I had to remind them that I was 17 at the time and now, a year off thirty, I would probably be OK!

Just to make sure, Alice, a qualified acupuncturist and masseuse, worked her magic on me. I had my first ever session of acupuncture followed by a head massage. I was prescribed a personal herbal remedy of essential oils. Mine were olive, walnut and gentian for energy, confidence and ability to deal with change. Perfect concoction to send me on my way. Vigilant Alice also made one for herself and also for her cat Mila, who is certainly treated as one of the family.

And so my short but very sweet chapter to Brazil drew to a close. If not on this trip, I will return one day soon to explore the wonders the rest of the country has to offer but for now, the next stop is Guatemala where a family and some intensive Spanish lessons await.

So I put on my travelling hat, a creation of the wonderful Laura Peacock that I'm told makes me look like Patsy from Ab Fab (it has a sock puppet attached to it)! and head on my merry little way.