Here endeth this blog

Warm greetings, dear readers, and apologies that this my final instalment is so late coming.  

Our final day in Guatemala was eventful, and the journey back to reality rather longer than expected.

It feels like months ago when I awoke to our final Guatemalan morning, but it was only a few hours.  I say 'a few' in the Guatemalan sense, as it was, perhaps, two days ago now.  As mentioned, time differences perplex me.  I can't even handle the 'spring forward, fall over' changing of the clocks here, so the whole concept of time travelling, and arriving before you've left is beyond me.  I don't really get seasons.  It's usually cold in the UK, so it is hard to tell which season it is meant to be.  Or there's an unexpected heatwave, the railway tracks melt, the public complain and we can't cope.  We can't seem to cope with snow either.  Anyway, enough about all that, back to our extremely long last day.

I was intent on going swimming at the rather swish hotel we were staying at in Guatemala City, so at 6.45am, I bounced along to Gill and Zoë's room, where they were making full use of the complimentary bathrobes and slippers.  Down we went to the outdoor pool.  It was like swimming in a warm bath and was simply perfect, as was the jacuzzi.  Post-breakfast, we checked-out and bundled into our minibus, with Manuel our guide and Saolo, our driver, who has driven us hundreds of miles around Guatemala, this fascinating country.

We drove around the city, learning about how it is all divided up into zones, looking at which zones were predominantly residential, where the big businesses were located, seeing the slum areas, the largest of which is known as 'Limonade', which Manuel informs us, means 'lemonade, like the drink', but no-one is quite sure why.

We stopped at the main square and went into one final church for a short tour.  Afterwards, we had an unfortunate incident where one of our group had a chain snatched from her neck.  In a split second, whilst we were crossing the road, in that anxious-tourist manner, when one's guard is down, some chancer ripped the chain from her neck and was gone before we had even realised what had happened.  This was extremely unfortunate as Manuel was in the process of saying how important it is to stay together as a group.  The chain had great sentimental value and was irreplaceable.  But, to be fair, this incident could have happened in Plumstead, Old Street, just about anywhere in the world.  So if you are thinking of travelling to Guatemala, don't let this put you off.  Much worse things happen, and really, the only thing which matters, is life.  I've been mugged in the past, in Ghana, in 2002, which freaked me out, especially as they got my passport; but I got a shiny new one within a week or so, with the place of issue listed as 'British High Commission Accra', which was quite quirky.  The last time I stowed a bag above my head in a bus, I never saw it again - that was in Mombasa - so I don't store things there any more.  

We went to the ministry of something-or-other, where we obtained a crime number so that our group member can make an insurance claim.  We couldn't do more as there is no way the chain would be found.

I was extremely hungry and I planned to ask Manuel, with Gill's help, in my best Spanish, when we were going to stop and eat.  I asked this, but unfortunately I asked when we were going to stop and smoke, rather than stop and eat, as the verbs sound quite similar.  Manuel said that my pronunciation was great, even if what I had said wasn't what I intended.  Story of my life.

We lunched in a shopping mall, which could quite easily have been Bluewater.  All the multinationals were there - every conceivable sports brand, fast food chains.  I sat munching a chicken salad from Pollo Campero, Guatemala's fast food chicken shop which can be found across the country, reflecting on the surreal nature of the shopping centre experience - the gap between rich and poor is immense here, as it is everywhere else, like London.  And this gap only ever seems to get bigger.  

It was sad saying goodbye to Manuel. He had looked after us throughout our stay, ferried us around to restaurants, churches, ruins, hotels, churches, ruins, toilets, churches, ruins, cafes, churches, ruins, gardens, churches, ruins, coffee plantations, churches, ruins, ATMs, churches and ruins.  Did I mention the churches and ruins? He is clearly proud to be Guatemalan and was pleased to show us his country.  He was very embarrassed by the robbery, even more so because it happened a few feet away from him.

So we said goodbye and bundled into the airport, changing into our trip polo shirts, which we dutifully wore all the way home.  We flew to El Salvador (I think I've met her), for reasons unbeknown to man or woman for that matter.  Once there, I was intent on finding a glass bottle of Coca Cola (see previous posts on this important topic), as it would have 'El Salvador' written on the rim.  Pip was up for this challenge, so off went in search of this priceless artefact.  Fact: there is one place at this airport where they sell Coke in glass bottles.  A bar.  A bar, which was just about to close.  But I could see the glass bottle in the fridge! We pretty much begged the man for even just the lid, not even the liquid, I mean, let's face it, when am I going to be in El Salvador again? Probably on the 12th, 12th of Never.  This was my only chance.  As I stood there looking totally pathetic, the man relented, fetched an opener, charged me $2, gave me the lid and poured the Coke into a plastic cup, which Pip and I shared in celebration! Mission accomplished.  

Meanwhile, back at Gate 9, the troops were mustering.  The flight to Madrid was scheduled for 1950.  We boarded, all was well.  Well, until we started moving around the runway, then the pilot announced that there was something wrong with the plane.  We were frustrated, but subconsciously all thought that it was better for there to be a problem now, than in the mid-Atlantic.  So the pilot tried to take off, but again, decided there was a problem, so back we went to the parking area.

Time was ticking, and the chances of us missing the connection from Madrid seemed to be increasing.

The pilot announced that he was going to refuel.  I couldn't help wondering why he hadn't done that in the first place! If I don't put fuel in my car, she doesn't go anywhere! Surely it's the same principle with a rather large aeroplane? We all had to undo our seat-belts whilst they added the fuel - why was that? I don't ask my passengers to do this when I go to the petrol station.  Strange.

We had been there for almost 2 hours.  I spoke to a Spanish nun who was also on the flight.  I'm always reassured when there is a nun around.  As Sally remarked, every flight should have one.  Unfortunately this particular nun and I didn't have much language in common.  I understood that she had travelled from Honduras, and was bound for Madrid, but apart from that, I was nun the wiser.

The two hour mark passed, we had missed the connection in Madrid.  Pip suggested I perform a comedy gig.  After all, this audience was locked inside a plane on the tarmac at San Salvador - they weren't going anywhere - talk about a captive audience! Just as I was working out the logistics of running a comedy improvisation workshop for these lucky passengers, the pilot announced that everything was sorted and that we were off to Madrid!

Ten hours later, we touched down in Madrid, and had been booked onto the next flight, which was in 5 hours.  Pip and I intrepidly jumped on a Madrid-bound aeroporto bus and headed for the city, taking advantage of the free WiFi on the bus to tweet our way into town.  Forty minutes later, we were sipping cerveza near the main square.  And the barman even found me a Coke lid - 'la tapa, por favore?'

A short hop from Madrid, and we touched down at Heathrow.  It was reassuringly cold.  We said our farewells and went our separate ways.  After 25 hours variously in the air, in transit lounges, and bribing barmen for Coke lids (well, maybe the latter was just me), we were exhausted, and most probably still are.

What an experience we have had.  I can't recommend a trip to Our Cabana highly enough.  Please GO GO GO there as soon as you can.  It is a beautiful place, in a lovely setting, it's warm and friendly, you become part of a very special community of people united by one set of values.  Look at their website, book yourself in for one of the sessions, or do what we did and organise a pick n mix programme, incorporating whatever you want.  It really is a wonderful chance to go and experience somewhere which epitomises Guiding.  If you're a member of Girlguiding, these World Centres are your home, so go and stay! If you're not a member of Girlguiding, why not become one? We always need more volunteers.  If you live anywhere near Chislehurst, get in touch as I could do with some more Guide Leaders! Guiding offers life-changing opportunities for girls and young women; come and be part of it; come and discover, grow, challenge yourself and be challenged.  Reach out and grab the opportunities that come your way.  If none come, look harder, or create these opportunities for girls and young women.  Life's short, don't let it pass you by.    

And if you do go to Our Cabana, go to Guatemala for a bit afterwards.  It's very well-equipped for tourism, as this provides a huge source of income.  I highly recommend it, especially Antigua, and of course, the Rainbow Cafe, location of my first every live gig!

So what's next? 

Well I am back at work now, and am here for two weeks, working and building my poetry empire.  Then I am off to Rwanda for the Fifth World Centre pilot, a conference for the WAGGGS (World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts) Stop the Violence campaign.  I will start a blog about this before I go and will tweet the link.  This will be a very different experience.  I am looking forward to meeting WAGGGS members from across Africa and the world, to find out more about what their organisations are doing to Stop the Violence, and to discuss the way forward.

Thank you for following my adventures - I hope you have enjoyed this blog.

Best wishes - Helen BB

Adios Flores, Hola Guatemala City

The best line today came from Miguel, our trusty guide on the Flores leg of the trip, who when asked if the land we were visiting was flat, replied  'Yes, once you've climbed the hill'. 

We set off for Tikal, the UNESCO World Heritage Site, early this morning.  The site was much more established than yesterday's site and was littered with rest areas, with a little Guatemalan man selling Coca Cola and benches to rest on.  There were a lot of other people there, unlike yesterday when we were the only group.

The 40 degree heat made the experience extremely strenuous, but worth it for the spectacular views of the temples from the top of the highest pyramid.  A big highlight for me today was meeting two French tourists at the top of this pyramid, who said to me, 'You are Helen, non?' - 'indeed - how do you know?' I replied, with surprise.  They said that they had been at the Rainbow Cafe on Wednesday night, when I did my routine! I have a fan base! Or, at least, 2 people who were there and remembered me.  Antigua was where our Guatemalan adventure began several days ago, hundreds of miles from Tikal. 

We saw a lot of wildlife today, including animals a bit like racoons, but native to Guatemala.  One came very close to it.  I tried to talk to it, but it only spoke Spanish.  We also saw coties wandering around and even a toucan in the trees.  We saw howler monkeys nursing their young in the trees.  They defecate on the people below to mark their territory.  Nice.

My jungle-strength insect repellent doesn't seem to have worked on the vicious mosquitoes of Flores - my little arms and ankles have been nibbled, despite long-sleeves and copious amounts of sweet-smelling jungle lotion.  But I have been taking anti-malarials on Tuesdays, just to be on the safe side, so if any of those naughty mosquitoes are malarial, I am safe.

We flew back to Guatemala City from Tikal in a larger plane than we had flown there.  This plane even had an air hostess, who kindly bought us a drink and biscuits during the flight.  What a job that must be - 45 minute flights from Guatemala City to Flores and back, presumably only when enough people want to fly.  There is something quirky about flying within a country with a tiny airline that no-one has heard of.  It was a pleasant flight, and we didn't need earplugs as previously, which was a relief.

Manuel was waiting for us at the airport.  He had had a haircut, so looked refreshed.  He said that he had missed us, but I'm not sure if this was true.  We piled into the bus and headed to downtown Guatemala City, for our final night here.  Tomorrow we are wandering around the city in the morning, then starting the long journey back to reality.  Night night everybody.     

Rather warm

I was looking back through my photos of this trip.  The first couple of nights in Mexico, joking about Moctezuma taking the tube, seem like a lifetime ago.  Our Central American adventure is coming to a close very soon.  We have one more night here at Mosquito Central, then a night in Guatemala City, then we fly home.  On Thursday, I'll be doing battle with the Northern Line once again, and starting to plough through thousands of unread work e-mails.

Let me tell you about what we got up to today.  We spent the morning at an archaeological Mayan site called Yaxha where we walked around an enormous site, consisting of a series of complexes where various Mayan things used to happen.  We walked around in sweltering heat - 40 degrees temperature and 97 degrees humidity- and Miguel told us all about the different ruins - where the Mayans used to hang out, eat, make sacrifices, perform ceremonies, check their e-mail and play football. 

The most special part of the morning was when we climbed a pyramid and renewed our Promise at the top.  It was moving.  Truly a pyramid-top moment, one which I will not forget. 

Sheila was in archaeological heaven at this site.  We also watched howler monkeys having a siesta in the trees and all sorts of exotic birds darting around. 

On the way to the site, we saw lots of pigs by the side of the road, often with little piglets.  One man appeared to be walking  his  pig.  I think perhaps here people have pet pigs like  we have pet dogs.  There were also horses with their horselets and cows with their cowlets. 

We went to a restaurant for lunch and were bemused to be presented with boiling hot vegetable soup - not quite what we were anticipating in this heat.  But it was delicious, as was the chicken which followed and, fear not dear readers, there was an option for our vegetarian friends.  We enjoyed refried beans - Pip's favourite - and an abundance of tortillas, the Central American staple. 

On arriving back, exhausted from pyramid-hopping and, in some cases, Mayan overload, we plunged into the swimming pool, which was heavenly.  Am currently blogging with a gin and tonic, besides the crocodile-infested lagoon, listening to the chirruping cicadas and all manner of other night life.  

This whole trip has been quite an experience. It was beautifully divided into bite-sized chunks - a minibreak in Mexico City, a six-night programme at Our Cabana, the World Centre in Mexico, then a few nights in Guatemala, before flying home on Tuesday, via San Salvador (yes indeed, the capital of El Salvador - we have heard that we are getting off the plane - just hope I'll be able to have a bottle of Coke, so that I can get the Coke lid.  I know it's geeky, but I collect these from wherever I go in the world, as they are always locally bottled, so have the name of the country written on the rim.  I hope they drink Coca Cola in El Salvador.  They don't have it in Laos.

We have spent time doing such different things, that this trip has felt like lots of different experiences, in one.  And my hope is that everyone who has been on this huge adventure will take something special back to their units, Districts, Divisions, as well as the County and wider Region.  We are already planning the reunion where everyone will be asked what they have done as a result of this trip.

So Sally and Pip are sitting opposite me, playing 'Pass the Pigs', that special game that can be played with two pigs and a notebook.  In fact, we could have played the real thing with the pigs on the roadside, though I'm not sure they would have appreciated that.

We about to meet up for dinner, then we'll be checking out with our tiny bags and heading to Tikal, the UNESCO World Heritage site we have all come to see.  Then we'll board the tiny plane and head back to Guatemala City for one more night.

So I will sign-out there, and will blog again from our final destination here tomorrow - Guatemala City.  Hope you are all doing well.  Little man with g & t approaching....

Sounds of the jungle - Mosquito Central

Sorry I had to cut the last blog short - had to jump onto a tiny plane, which turned out to  be big enough to accommodate the 14 of us, plus two unfortunate members of the public, as well as a pilot or two.  We were given ear plugs in our tiny cardboard box, which were most welcome considering the noise which emanated.

Earlier in the day, we visited a market, not a tourist market like the one at Chichicastenago, but a local market, where locals do their shopping.  It was an interesting experience, with lines and lines of women selling vegetables, many wearing their beautiful traditional cloth, all of which has slight variations.  The local population was doing its shopping here, whilst we wandered round, gazing at mutant-sized cabbages and smiling at people. 

Most of the vegetable stalls were manned (for want of a better word) by women, many of whom were breastfeeding and selling tomatoes at the same time.  There were a lot of smaller children running around.  Others had babies secured to their backs with beautiful cloth, evident only from the tiny feet sticking out of one end of the material.  Work doesn't stop here when a woman has a child; there is certainly no maternity leave - she carries on running her stall.  Needs must. 

We stopped at a Mayan archaeological site, hence the name of the previous blog entry, where there were steep steps, because the Mayans had long legs.  We learnt about how Mayans built their complexes according to the nature of the cosmos.  We saw a hole which Manuel described as 'the belly button of the earth', which was where the Mayans would offer incense and light candles etc.

That visit was a few hours ago, but seems like months ago.  Fast forward to now, and I am sitting in the reception of a stunning complex, surrounded by incomparable noises of the Guatemalan jungle.  There are chirruping cicadas, howler monkeys, the whirring of the fan above my head, and a million insect noises.  This is mosquito central, and I am coated in my new fragrance - Deet Femme - it's not exactly Clinique Happy, but it does the job.  It is past 10.30pm and the heat is astonishing.  I don't think I've been in a climate quite like this since Timbuktu 2002, when the heat was so close, you could hardly move.  But somehow, one does, on a camel, into the desert heat. 

Our tiny plane touched down; I had a stabbing pain below my left ear throughout the flight, so spent most of the time in the brace position, which made it better, although wasn't very sociable for my neighbours.  But they got over it.  The airport was tiny, and we were met by Miguel the guide, and driver Saolo, who drove us in an enormous bus, to buy water, then here to the hotel.  En route to the supermarket, we passed Pizza Hut, again, globalisation at its worse - we are in Guatemala for goodness sake!

We are staying in a series of little bungalows and the complex has two lagoons, one of which has a resident crocodile, which Miguel tells us we can watch eat breakfast tomorrow, when we  are having breakfast.  There is a swimming pool, which will be blissful to plunge into tomorrow, as long as it's definitely a swimming pool, not the lagoon with the resident crocodile.  'Lagoon'.  What a great word eh? I don't use it very often.  There aren't many lagoons in Plumstead, that's probably why.

We've been reading tweets today from our friends at Girlguiding's Trainer Conference in a place called Wyboston - hello to you if you have been there today.  Pip and I would be there, if we weren't in Guatemala.  Hope it has gone well and that you have made new friends, and kept the old.

Off to climb the pyramid tomorrow.  Night night!

Long-legged Mayans climbed steep steps

So 17 has now become 14 as we have said farewell to the Guatemala 1 group, consisting of Caroline, Margaret and Eileen, who are flying home tonight. 

The remaining intrepid 14 are currently at a tiny airport in Guatemala City, miles away from the international terminal.  We are speculating as to whether the plane will be a 5-seater, in which case, some of us may need to sit on the wing, or a 20-seater, which will accommodate all of us comfortably.

It has been a satisfying day and it's not over yet.  Rumour has it that our hotel is located in a swamp, surrounded by angry mosquitoes, scorpions, howler monkeys and crocodiles, all ready to pounce, having been told of our impending arrival.  But we are suitably equipped with industrial quantities of repellent and will not be swimming in the crocodile-infested lagoons. 

Where on earth are you going? I hear you cry, from this waiting room in Guatemala City (yes, really) - the Guatemala 2, who have managed to postpone their return to work till Thursday - are bound for Flores, the heart of the Aztec kingdom, in the north of Guatemala, quite close to the border with Belize.  Pip and I are going to make a border dash to Belize - who's in? It's only a centimetre on the map, so it can't be far. More later - we're about to board!

Lake Time

Lake Atitlan or Lago Atitlan, as it is more commonly known in these parts, is absolutely beautiful.  It is set between three volcanoes, which are called Atitlan, Toliman and San Pedro.  The space where the lake is now, used to be filled with boiling magma.  I am reassured that this no longer is the case, as a boat trip on bubbling, oozing, sweltering magma would have been quite uncomfortable.  There have been a lot of eruptions over the years, but none recently.  The last one was in 1835.  There certainly wasn't one today.  If there had been, I wouldn't be sitting on this hotel balcony sipping cafe con leche, blogging and listening to the happy sounds of Atitlan town at this precise moment. 

Volcanoes.  Don't you just love 'em? I remember learning about them at school, with Miss Cook, I think, in Year 8.  We also learnt about them in Year 9, but I spent most of the time I should have been in Year 9 geography at the orthodontist, having my front teeth gently coaxed into my mouth using all sorts of fantastic contraptions.  My front teeth used to enter the room half an hour before the rest of me.  It was like having a giant house rabbit around.  I owe my life to that orthodontist.  But enough about all that, let's get back to the volcano lessons I do remember.  We drew pretty cross-sections of them, showing all the different rock types - like the Ignatious rock (who later founded the Jesuits) and the Iraenean rock (some sort of theodicy, I believe); we made models of the volcanoes with layers of corrugated card; we recreated explosions where magma and llama flowed out - (can you tell that I'm not a geologist?) But actually seeing volcanoes in the flesh, well - the rock - is something else.  They are utterly spectacular.  If you have never seen a real volcano, I think you should.  Find out where they are, then go visit.  There is something called the Pacific Ring of Fire, created by the tectonic plates and their mates.  But don't go if they are erupting as they wreak havoc.

Manuel and his trusty boat mate took us across the lake in their boat.  We sped through the lake, at great speed, spending the day at various co-operatives, including a delightful textile co-operative which receives funding from USAID, amongst others.  We learnt all about the process of producing the threads, dying the threads, then weaving them into all sorts of objects and designs.  Many of the places which are of interest to visitors are run by co-operatives, and we also visited a local artist's co-operative.  These types of establishment benefit the whole population and are beneficial as they enable people to contribute to the community as a whole.  That's what Manuel said.  He also said that as a result of tourism, 90% of the homes in this area have their own sewerage systems, which is unheardof in the 'Global South' (which used to be called the 'Developing World'. 

I'm not sure how all the traders survive though.  We passed hundreds of stalls today, all selling remarkably similar items - woven goods, wooden goods, masks, bags, pens, jewellery, key-rings, huge tapestries, bags; some people purchased all sorts of things, which is great.  I bought a tiny beaded frog wearing a Santa hat, which I am going to give to my Dad because he collects frogs.  An old Guatemalan lady followed me around; I was teaching her to say the names of the things she was selling in English - 'ferg, buy ferg'; 'frog, it's a frog'; there were also 'pergs', otherwise know as 'pigs' and 'pingin', which was in fact, 'penguin'.  Pronounciation was awkward because she didn't have very many teeth.  She would have benefited from intensive orthodontics some years ago.

We passed a ferretaria and I wanted to go in and buy a ferret.  The others weren't so keen.  I was disappointed.  I was even more disappointed when I found out that a ferretaria sells hardware, rather than ferrets.  Saying that though, I'm not sure how I would have got it home.  Can you take a ferret as hand luggage? I'm not sure. It would probably have to go into quarantine anyway.  Ferret.  What a great word.

When we were at the weaving place, Manuel explained that weaving is what the women do, because they can go to the co-operative, collect the raw materials they need, then take them home and weave, whilst looking after their children, whilst their husbands can get drunk, because many men here are, apparently, alcoholics.  When you are a weaver, there is no annual leave.  There is no holiday pay, sick pay, or maternity pay.  It's weave, or nothing.  And the men are out drinking.  What a depressing situation Manuel described.  One which doesn't demonstrate very much gender equality.  But this is what he said, and it's not for me to criticise, but it doesn't quite seem right.  But is it cultural? Societal? The way it's always been? None of this makes it ok.  There is a very long way to go when it comes to gender equality here. 

This is a place of paradox.  There are toothless women selling beaded frogs and tiny children selling chewing gum, then there are breezy rooftop restaurants with complimentary wi fi.  What a curious world this is. 

Our final stop on the boat was in Santiago, where the locals make money by, amongst other things, weaving any name you want, onto a pen, in the colours of your choice.  This simple but highly effective souvenir was appreciated by the group, who brought many of these pens.  So if you are expecting a souvenir, expect a pen with your name on it!

Back at the hotel, I played table tennis with Zoe (sorry Andy, I can't find the two dots!) - it was a closely fought match, made more challenging because the ball was in fact, a golf ball rather than a ping-pong ball.  After this, I went for a dip in the pool, which was very refreshing in this balmy heat.

We are shortly heading back to Helena's place for an omelette and beer.  Jesus will be there.  It'll be like the Second Coming.

Then we are all meeting up for a farewell drink as tomorrow, we say goodbye to the Guatemala 1 group who are returning to the UK in time for work on Monday morning.  The remaining 14 of us are flying up to the heart of the Aztec kingdom in Tikal, where we understand that we will be staying in a swamp.  I'll let you know tomorrow. 

My first live gig! And meeting Jesus.

Last night, Pip and I headed off across town to what sounded like a quirky place called 'Rainbow Cafe'.  After a few wrong turnings, we found the place.  It was very friendly and chilled, packed full of Europeans, Americans, Canadians, Australians.  This was a proper ex-pat hang-out.  The  beer was flowing, people were gathering.  I liked it straightaway.  A poster at the entrance boasted 'Wednesday - Open Mic Night'.  I thought to myself - shame it's not Wednesday.  Then I thought - hang on a minute....!

I signed up to perform, then set about writing myself a comedy routine, exploring our experiences on this amazing trip, then I got up and performed! It was fantastic, engaging with the crowd, asking if they were in the Girl Scouts - one man claimed that he was, but I think he was lying - then I chatted on about Twitter, vegetarianism, time management and other subjects close to my heart, then finished with my poem, Broken Society.  It was well-received and extremely exciting.  Pip was tweeting out pictures, telling the world about my stand-up debut.  I've got into stand-up and comedy impro in the last few months and have some gigs coming up in London, having almost come to the end of my Central American tour (Mexico last week, Guatemala yesterday).  If you're around, come to The George Pub in the Strand on Mon 22nd April, 7.30pm for 8pm,  £5 on the door.  See you there?

But enough about all that. 

We checked out early this morning, then Elgar, our trusty driver, who is taking some time-out from his composing regime to drive us round Guatemala, piled our luggage on top of the bus quite spectacularly, lashing it all together with what he called a 'carpet' was in fact, a tarpauline, under which everything was quite safe.

We headed for Chichicastenango, the famous site of the bustling market, where they sell everything you can possibly imagine, from TV remotes, to live budgies, very dead chicken (which looked sumptuous in the morning heat), to thimbles, worry dolls, and every type of Guatemalan mask imaginable.  We hired a guide called Tomas, who showed us around.  All the guides were smartly clad in khaki jackets and it felt like an organised operation.  The market was an exhilarating jumble of smells, stupendous colours, curious noises - a cacophony of small boys chasing us with wooden flutes, vendors shouting 'Hola, I give you good price'.  I was followed the entire time by a woman trying to sell me a giant piece of weaving, which was beautiful, but there's no way it would fit in my bag.  I commended her for her persistence.

As yesterday, women sat by the road weaving, or embroidering, with their babies lashed to their packs in beautiful traditional cloth. 

This place thrives on the informal economy and we all put some of our tourist dollars into it.  Several of the group bought Christmas decorations, most appropriate at this time of year in Guatemala.

We bundled back into the bus and in the late afternoon, arrived at our hotel, where I am currently sitting on the balcony, overlooking a glorious white tree covered in white lights, listening to distant barking and the hum of music from nearby bars.

We spent a fun hour or so on a balcony, having a beer at Helena's Restaurant, which is nearby.  Her restaurant consisted of 3 plastic tables, with chairs, a fridge, a lot of dead flowers, tinsel and multiple Christmas decorations.  My Spanish is quite limited, but we established that she is 24, with twin sons - Alphonso and Louis.  We agreed to go back there for dinner tomorrow, she was asking what time we would come.  A 12-year-old boy then appeared, and started chatting to us in English, which he told us he has learnt from the tourists he had met in the street, as it's too expensive to learn it at school.  He proceeded to translate the entire menu for us.  His name was Jesus; so yes, the Region Chief and I met Jesus. 

Pip taught the local child population our 'Oggy Oggy Oggy' chant, which can be heard in towns and villages across Guatemala.

Well I shall leave it there for now - off to dinner soon.  Hope you are doing well.