Wednesday, November 28, 2007

vino tinto y remolachas

Well, I have left Xela and I am back in San Marcos, taking part of the Moon Course at Las Pyramides which includes a lot of meditating, and for me a lot of napping. I´ve been exploring the more spiritual side of traveling and it is developing into an interesting process, one that is a bit strange to write about on this blog. But enough has happened since turkey day that I can entertain you with stories other than how I spent this morning detoxifying my system through breath.
I was in fact sick on thanksgiving, which combined with a lunch of remolachas developed into a late evening/early morning re-visitation of the fateful night of pink puke. Some will know of the story I speak, others will be glad not to know. Anyhow my Guate-family as well as my new french roommate were glad that I was somewhat recovered in the morning.
I met Sasha in the morning for a field trip to Mercado Minerva, one of Xela´s large markets. We walked there getting distracted along the way by two fantastic panaderias, Xelapan, as well as the Menninite run Bakeshop. I don´t know what it is about central america, but they know how to work the harina. Anyhow, once Sasha has sufficiently worked himself into a carb coma we took off to the market.
Minerva sprawls out onto the streets, it is loud, bustling and as every Guatemaltecca likes to remind us, peligroso. You can buy anything there, well within reason I suppose. I procured myself a market basket, and Sasha managed to discover a white bandanna in the piles of ropa Americana. It was a tough place to hang with the remnants of G.I. distress, raw meat and flies is not usually the most appetizing way to readjust to life after what I had experienced the previous night.
Friday afternoon I taught two english classes with Alexis from Tolouse to some very rowdy kids. We gave up on the first graders entirely and spent the hour reading them books like ¨go dog go¨and being crawled on. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
Saturday was spent gathering ourselves up and taking off on the chicken bus to Pana. How to describe our night of the full moon in Pana might take pages. I befriended street artists while waiting for Patricia to check her email. We started drinking liters of gallo on the sidewalk and speaking in spanish to the motley crew of vendors, then transitioned to dancing to live spanish reggae, and drinking clos straight from the box. The night ended with a bonfire on the shores of At├Čtlan. It was very hippy-traveler-bohemian.
So that is where I must leave you... evening meditation calls.

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