Drunk days

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  Todos Santos, Guatemala
Friday, November 3, 2006

From Malacatancito, we stopped in Huehuetenango to grocery shop and meet up with other Peace Corp volunteers for the journey up to Todos Santos. Arriving in the village, it was apparent that this was the place to be, for Guatemalans and gringos alike. The volunteer that lives in Todos Santos had rented an empty house, completely devoid of furniture, and organized the convergence of over fifty Peace Corp folks for a raging Halloween party that night. Before we donned our costumes, we explored the local scene. Gambling, fried chicken stands, crowds of men throwing back cervesas, marimba bands and dancing, and the coolest part was everyone was wearing identical traditional dress which they actually wear in day-to-day life, not just for fiestas! Matt and I opted to skip a ride on the ferris wheel set up for the occasion after I told him the tale of my Uncle Tommy getting dumped out of a malfunctioning one in Mexico. After dinner of a disappointing Hawaiian pizza, we returned to Peace Corp party central where Matt transformed into a thistle (see photo for full effect) and I attempted to pull off Jackie Onassis Kennedy

01 Jackie O´

. The party was good fun, despite some very unfestive bickering between us that released some pent up stress in the end. Matt even got to show off his fire-spinning skills when after another volunteer performed, Matt casually asked if he could take over the poi. Everyone was more wowed by the fact that two fire-spinners were attending the same party in Guatemala,of all places, than the actual feat of flinging balls of fire around in an artistic manner. The next morning started way too early for my preferences, with the purpose of witnessing the crazy local tradition of ¨drunken horse racing.¨ An event difficult to put words to, much less understand, but I will give it my best shot: basically, teams of five men will pay a large sum of money to have the privilege of wearing fancy hats and racing horses a short distance, perhaps a third of a mile or so, back and forth all day long. The kicker though, is that to prepare for the races, they must start drinking and dancing to marimba music continuously several days before. Most of the men couldn´t walk a straight line if they tried, but somehow they tended to stay (barely) on the back of their horse. Some whooped and hollered, others chugged beers while riding by. All the townsfolk come down to watch the races, but I swear the gringos in the crowd were the only ones that showed an ounce of enthusiasm about it, cheering for the cowboys as they rode by, and flinching at close calls of falls and almost collisions. Although I was happily napping the afternoon away, I heard that the last hour of the races did have some gnarly spills, but no one died this year, which apparently is a common occurance and ensures a good harvest of crops in the coming year. I am sure that the farmers were very dissapointed with this year´s race. The best part is that no team really wins, they just pack up and go home at 5 oclock, with no more than a free rooster to show for their efforts, the supposed admiration of the rest of the town for their bravery and endurance, and probably a hangover that will last a week

02 Thistle

. Bizarre, very bizarre. We spent the evening hanging out with the few Peace Corp volunteers that hadn´t left that day and heading to bed early so we would have enough energy for a hike in the beautiful surrounding mountains the next morning. To get to our hike, Alleya, Matt, and I hopped in the back of a pickup headed to our destination village La Ventosa. After ten minutes or so of the steep climbing road out of Todos Santos, the radiator blew, but we had the good fortune of another pickup passing by at that same moment. We jumped ship and successfully made it to La Ventosa in the second. An eccentric old man, who took a liking to Matt´s trekking poles (and also suggested that Matt should smoke pot to stop his knee pain), pointed us in the right direction for our goal of standing on the ¨highest non-volcanic point in Central America¨. The hike was lovely, remote and relaxing after the craziness of the town, although we didn´t have the great views of distant volcanoes that can be seen on clear days. We returned via pickup to Todos Santos that afternoon, enjoyed fried chicken in a comedor popular with the locals and decided to get the heck out of town. Well, easier said than done. Since they were also celebrating Day of the Dead, the usual bus service wasn´t happening. We had no choice but the back of a big grimey work truck with a dirty canvas cover to keep out the rain. This alone was no problem for us brazen travelers, except that it was also filled with falling-over drunk dudes, one of whom had crapped in his pants and the smell made us gag. THAT pushed our limits for sure. We survived the torture to the intersection of Tres Caminos where we gleefully flung ourselves out the back of the truck and into a very comfortable microbus the rest of the way to Huehue. A couple of bus rides more, and we collapsed in Alleya´s home in Malacas, exhausted from the long day of travel in various forms. The hot water bucket bath was joyous, spaghetti with extreme garlic bread never tasted so good, and a real bed complete with a cuddly cat made us sleep like babies.

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03 Hippie girl	04 Men in traditional clothes	05 Dancing to the Marimba	06 The drunk horse race
07 One of the effects of drinking and riding	08 Taking a nap? or passed out?	09 Coffee break on the tallest non Volcanic Point

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