Hotel Los Olivos Quetzaltenango

... in Xela has some kind of artistic talent or another, whenever you get up in the morning there is always someone around the house playing guitar, painting or hanging out in the cafe below our house. Having this constant flow of people has made it a lot easier to make guatemalan friends, we had an amazing day for Hannahs birthday - the teachers at our school got her a pinata, her teacher seranaded her with his guitar and our whole house made a big dinner ...

... was wearing traditional clothes whereas her teacher was left sat alone in the corner in her jeans and t-shirt (obviously not fitting the image she wanted to send home).

Last week there was a couple with three kids under five. I´m not the most child friendly at the best of times but I definitely didn´t appreciate all the disruption they caused to everyone´s lessons. All very commendable that they were traveling with their kids and learning Spanish ...

... a country club to drink Pina Coladas, poolside, with peacocks. Several peacocks (or royal turkeys, as they call them here) Im still mulling that over in my head.

In other news, my bag got stolen out of my house this week. With my new bank card in it. It happened Wednesday night. The good thing is, we found out who it was and so I get all my stuff back and they have to pay for all the charges that were rung up on my card that night. It was really random ...

... Guatemala is way more laid back in terms of timings, buses etc than Mexico and its much more hectic. People speak a lot less English, but Guatemalans lived up to there repuation of being some of the most friendly people in Central Amnerica. Stayed in a small border town for one night last night, which gave us a real taste of Guatemalan life. There is a lot of poverty here, the town itself was so picturesque set back in the ...

... kill me. Or so I decided at the time. As a result, I thought it would be best for my own sanity and safety to turn around while I still had the opportunity. The guide called into the office, and the office owner came to meet me at the lookout point to take me back to Xela. John and the guide opted to continue on the hike.

At this point, I´ll rely on John for an account of what happened next.

Shortly after I left, the trail continued to ...

... corner of mine. I embarrassed him by trying to get him to chit chat with me, and he blushed deeply while his friends teased him in Quiche.

These kids were killing me. They had to all be between 5 and 8 years old and all looked exhausted. I wondered what time they got up to travel into the city and beg to shine shoes. During the long ride, I stared out my window at the shacks on the side of the road, the wilting corn and the campasenos ...

... the road (which was a car road, not necessarily a people road), and started walking up, up, up, and up a hill into the teeny tiny little village of San Martín. Then, the road became dirt, and we continued hiking uphill. As we were hiking, a family of locals were also walking up the road with their children (who were wheilding machetes at the ages of 5-7 it seemed), and were slowly collecting firewood as they went. It was interesting to see who would make it to the top first... but ...

... hill from the main dock where we had arrived in February, you hit the markets where locals are selling everything from chickens and cowboy hats to beans and blankets.










Just around the corner, you walk off a main street busy with tuk tuks and women in traditional Mayan dress, or traje, of long skirts, blouses and aprons carrying huge baskets of corn on their heads, down a ...