Several days later, a lot has transpired!

Saturday

It’s our third full day here, and the first day I have ventured beyond the hotel grounds. First, in the morning, just across the street first, to the office, to let them know that I wanted to go on the coffee tour this afternoon. So not sure that actually qualified as off the grounds. ( no pun intended.)  This morning after breakfast I worked again on Cindy’s mural, putting in some last pieces of the blue sky at the top of the mural.  That has been pretty much what I have worked on, and very little on Deb’s.  But next week I will be sure to work some more on Deb’s project.

Both murals are nearly done. Now the contact paper has been laid over, and they have been cut into segments and flipped. I did a small amount of cutting with a razor blade, and then heated the segments with a hair dryer to adhere the plastic more firmly to the tiles.

It is getting dark, and we have stopped for the day. Tomorrow Cindy, and anyone else who is up early, will finish up separating the segments, eight I believe. At 9am we are heading out for a day long boat trip around the lake, stopping at a few communities with artisans, and at a hotel restaurant for lunch.

Four of us went on the coffee tour, accompanied by a guide, his young son, and Anita, a local woman who went to Antigua for three years to learn English, and now works as a translator.  Of the four of us, three including me had some skills in Spanish, and one, Inez, originally from Chile, is fluent.  We probably would have been fine without a translator, but it was nevertheless nice to have Anita along.
People are gathering for drinks and dinner, so I will stop for now and be sociable.


A couple of days later. I am sitting in the sun on the terrace of the hotel in San Lucas Toliman.  The view in front of me is the view depicted in our mural, which is now complete and was mounted yesterday on a wall along the town’s main street.  The sun feels great, although in a bit it will be too hot and I will probably retreat to the shade.

We have just finished breakfast, me and the three others who did not go on the morning jungle hike to look for quetzals, the beautiful and elusive birds that are Guatemala’s national bird. With me were Ines, Colleen, and Laurel. Colleen and Laurel are now heading out to Santiago to buy some more handicrafts. Ines and I are spending the day here.

A lot has transpired in the last couple of days, which I will try to recap. It’s been a bit more adventure than I signed up for. First, on our boat trip around to various towns along the lake a couple of days back. I got lost. Really lost. We’d just landed on the outskirts of town, and a number of us stopped to use the bathroom. When I came out, after just two or three minutes, everyone was gone.  I knew they were heading to a restaurant for lunch, but had understood that the restaurant was a twenty minute walk into town. That had indeed originally been true, but the boat guide,Rigoberto, had discovered that there was a dock right in front of the restaurant.

So, not realizing there had been a change, I began walking to town, figuring I would catch up with the group, or find them at the restaurant after a walk of about 20 minutes.  After 15 minutes I was in the middle of town. Lots of local shops and a chicken/pizza place, nothing that looked like a restaurant for gringos. Saw a couple of cops and tried asking them for help. No luck. Finally they suggested a fancy restaurant, and called a tuk tuk to take me there. After a 10 minute ride, a beautiful hotel and restaurant, but no group.

I was running out of ideas. Then it occurred to me that Susie, the Guatemala/Boston woman with whom Cindy and I had ridden here from Antigua, had told me a story about the restaurant. It and its hotel had belonged to a woman, from the States I think, who had lived there for many years, through the war, and had written books about her experiences. She was now elderly, and her family had tried, without success, to sell the place. So they wound up selling the individual casitas (cabins) and kept the restaurant. When I described that the staff at the fancy hotel recognized, right away, that it was La Posada that I had described. They called me another tuktuk and he took me off to La Posada. I realized on the way that it was where we had started out. I was about to say it wasn’t the right place, but then realized it was the best place to go, since that was where we had last seen each other. Just before we arrived back at La Posada, I saw Cindy walking along the road. She was as relieved to see me as I was to see her.  It turned out that Cindy had misunderstood, at first, where we were going, not knowing that there was a dock right at the restaurant. So La Posada was where we had landed and used the bathrooms, and the restaurant was right across the street, and I needn’t have gone anywhere except across the street to find the group.

I do feel like I handled it pretty well, and was at least pleased with myself that I was able to communicate with people in Spanish. The problem wasn’t a language problem, it was a misunderstanding about where we were going. And I had sent out a WhatsApp plea that at least some of the group received and answered. But by then I was too caught up in taking tuk tuks and trying to find the place to check back.

Cindy felt bad and was both apologetic and grateful, saying the situation made her realize that they needed to do a headcount when moving from one place to another. And she thanked me for handling the situation so well. It is true that I was  half laughing, relieved at being found and also realizing the absurdity of the situation.

So I had some lunch, while the rest of the group headed up to the town, which I had already seen, thank you very much, And Rigoberto took me on a private ride to the main dock where we re met  with the rest of the group. And I had enough time to peruse the stalls down at the dock, and to purchase a beautiful piece for myself. It’s kind of poncho like, but more of a shirt, beautifully embroidered.  Back at the boat a bevy of sellers was literally swarming the group trying to ply their merchandise.

The rest of the trip had been quite interesting. We visited a ceramics factory, the place that all the pottery at the hotel was from. I recognized that some scraps from broken pots had been incorporated into our mural. They had been acquired from someone the previous year. There was a shelf of seconds, that had small cracks or chips. And then a basket of “thirds” which were really broken and really cheap. So I bought a couple of broken pieces to use either in our next mural next week, or take home. They have painted birds or fish on them.

And we also visited a weaving collective in the same town. Two women gave us a demonstration of the whole process, from cleaning and spinning the wool or cotton, spinning, dying, and weaving.  There was a large loom that, if we understood right, dated from the 1800s, and a smaller one that was older and the more traditional method.  I also saw what looked like a bicycle wheel spinning wheel. Maybe next week, when I return with the other group, I can ask about it. The part about all the natural eyes they used, and how they got different effects from varying the time in the dye bath, temperature of the water, phase of the moon (I need to research that a bit more].
But that was not all...

And now, for the great fiasco,  that had nothing to do with mosaics, and everything to do with me.

Yesterday afternoon, while walking from Cindy’s mural to see Deb’s,  I tripped over a rise in the sidewalk and fell spectacularly on my face. I remember lying on the floor, blood dripping from I didn’t know where, and Cindy saying stay calm, you’re going to be okay. Reassuring in one way, scary in another. And then saying, you’re going to need stitches. Some people gave me some ice, and others an ice cream bar (it was in front of an ice cream shop). So off we went off in a tuk tuk, Cindy and Marina and me, to the hospital. Even though my Spanish is getting better by the day,  I was awfully glad to have them along. Marina speaks fluent Spanish, and Cindy nearly so.  The hospital staff was great, the nurses  cleaned me up and the doctor came came before long. Marina knew him personally, she spends part of the year here. She is originally from the Philippines.  The doc injected me along my eyebrow, and on my upper lip.  That was the worst part, and not all that bad. Once the anesthesia took effect, I could hardly feel any pain from the stitches.

They had a black cloth draped over my face, which was probably a good thing. I know Cindy and Marina took pictures, but I am not sure I want to see them.

I came back to a lot of sympathy and concern, and offers of various pain killers and drugs from most of the members of our group.  This morning I have an impressive black lip, but the stiches along my eyebrow, which received more, are barely noticable. My lower lip is sliced too, but I guess didn’t warrant stitches.And I am barely in any pain, just a little discomfort. Didn’t even take any advil this   am.

My taking it easy, which I had planned to do anyway today, while most of the group went quetzal searching, started with me having breakfast, then chatting with Colleen and Laurel, before they went off to Santiago, and later with Ines and Marina. Chati, who is the owner of the hotel, also came over, and offered to change my room, since it is is up a flight of stairs. I think it is the only one not on the ground level. It is also the only one with a view of the lake. I don’t care much about that, since the restaurant views of the lake are beautiful, and Loring and I have had wonderful views from our other abodes. But it is called the writer’s room, according to Chati, because of the desk with the lake view. I do like having the desk, although I haven’t done most of my writing there. But I asked Chati to show me another room, so I can decide.

Everyone is very solicitous and concerned about my tribulations, and have been giving various pieces of advice, things to do, not to do, etc. But the fact is that I am much better today, hardly in any pain, and went on a long walk through town, to visit the installation that I worked on yesterday and didn’t get a chance to grout, the final step.

Then I spent a good hour walking through the market, which happens three times weekly, and where people sell everything from onions to avocados to shrimp to the beautiful woven and embroidered huichols that virtually all women and girls here wear. They have some of the most colorful clothes I have ever seen, and I am impressed that virtually every girl and woman wears them. They consist of an embroidered blouse, a skirt made of a rectangular piece of fabric, an equally colorful apron, and an embroidered belt. The women buying the clothing were locals, not tourists. In fact, I saw no tourists during the hour or more I wandered around.

I try to be sensitive and not take pictures, except of peoples backs, without their permission. But there were a few instances  when I just couldn’t resist. I will post some on fb, and here, if I remember how.


Aside from the beautiful colors and the impressive landscapes of lakes and volcanoes, other impressions include some sounds:  the marimba  band playing at supper ( I hope to go visit the school, tomorrow, between group one’s departure and group two’s arrival)  the sound of women making tortillas in the street, slapping them back and forth between their hands, the tuk tuk milkman crying leche, leche as he rides along, the onion seller in the market, calling cebollas, cebollas,  cinco por un quetzal. (five foe a quetzal, about fourteen cents.

I found out from Chati that Cindy’s design for the next mural includes several children,  and is based on a photo by local photographer Walt, as is the one we just completed. 

Another local person who has helped with the thin set mortar this year and last, is Denber. He is a cute young man who wears a beret shaped hat made of Guatemalan material, and looks like a young Che Guevera. This morning, Chati mentioned that he has a court date tomorrow. He has two kids, and is separated from his wife, who has refused to give him visitation rights. Chati has written a letter of support, as she is his employer. But she seemed worried about whether the court will rule in his favor. She says he is a wonderful father, not an alcoholic as his wife has charged, only has a beer or two from time to time, with her, Chati.  So based on Chati’s information, I am worried for him. She says the wife has had mental problems for years, and Denber actually stood by and supported her.

Well my phone is just about out of charge, so I will stop here and head back to my writer’s room!  And catch up more later.