Having just passed seven weeks on the road in Central America and now having only two days left in Guatemala before I return home this Thursday, I find myself cooling my heels in Antigua--I've run a bit over budget this week--and mentally summing up my journey.
My trip was successful in many ways. First, and most importantly, I allowed myself enough time to get truly immersed in the local culture. Though my original, vague goal of reaching beautiful Merida, Venezuela via Costa Rica and Panama was probably unrealistic given my penchant for taking things slowly and my unwillingness to spend more than four hours in a bus on any given day, I did achieve an important secondary goal of visiting several new places--notably Leon (Nicaragua), Perquin (El Salvador), Chichicastenango (Guatemala), and the beautiful countryside of the Ruta de Lenca in western Honduras (Los Cipreses, Marcala, La Esperanza, Gracias, and Santa Rosa de Copan). Also new for me were my brief stops on the Pacific coasts of both El Salvador and Nicaragua.
It was very important for me to give this trip a lot of time. My initial trips here in 2008 and 2009 were too brief--and too rushed--for me to do much more than take a quick glance at a region I'd found I liked at least as much as Southeast Asia--if not more so. One of the joys of traveling in Central America is the geographical fact that all these countries are very small, so the backpacking tourist can cover quite a lot of ground in relatively little time. Despite their size, however, these countries together boast an incredible diversity of peoples, languages, food, climates, and geographical features such as mountains, volcanos, cowboy countryside, beaches, two very different sea or ocean coasts, and numerous lakes--from the huge Lake Nicaragua to the large Lake Atitlan in Guatemala--and numerous smaller lakes and rivers between.
Secondly, once I'd postponed the Costa Rica leg of my journey, that opened up the possibility for revisits of Copan Ruinas (Honduras) and Antigua (Guatemala) this past week. Despite the fact that they were second time visits for me, they definitely remain highlights of this trip since I was able to capture hundreds of images of these beautiful places on my "photography mission."
My photography mission itself was a third important goal for me. I was able to take the time I needed to seek out and note photo subjects, mostly of city/town/village buildings and streets, and return later to take photos as unobtrusively as possible. There were three main reasons for this approach.
First, up until this time I had almost no experience taking hundreds of digital photos, so I considered this to be a learning experience for me. Early in my trip I didn't take very many photos at all, preferring instead to get the lie of the land. Later, after I'd become more sure of myself, I began to shoot much more, but with a strong emphasis on experimentation with light, shadow, composition, and subject. My aim here was to try to improve my skills shooting pictures with the modern equivilent of the old "instamatic".
Second, I didn't want to make myself a target for beggars and hustlers, or worse, thieves and muggers, by walking all over the place with a camera around my neck. Whenever I did shoot photos, usually I kept the camera in my shirt pocket or in my daybag until I found a likely subject.
Third, when it comes to photographing people, it pays to be discreet, especially in this region. Guatemalans in particular (but this goes for people all over the world) don't appreciate foreigners taking photos of them without permission. Consequently, I was very careful not to be too aggressive with the lens. Since I had almost no experience shooting candid photos of people, I was particularly careful to tread that path cautiously. I have probably improved a little bit in this area. But readers will notice that--once I get my photos posted--there aren't very many good photos of people apart from some typical street scenes.
Another important goal I achieved with this trip was the establishment of a credible travel blog which I can continue to build in the months and years to come. Committing myself to writing something almost daily was important in that it kept me on my toes, forcing me to wander--not aimlessly as I might have done two decades ago--but with some specific destinations in mind, always remembering that I had to be loyal to a readership (no matter how modest). This helped me to focus everyday on seeing things with a writer's eye. Everyday became a different story for me, and the challenge was to try to improve at creating a daily story that would be compelling to the general reader. I'm not sure how well I succeeded in that, but I think I've definitely made a good start.
Showing posts with label Perquin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Perquin. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Copan Ruinas and Beyond
Making up for yesterday's "lost" day, I grabbed a 7.30 bus this morning to La Entrada, the crossroads town in northwestern Honduras where I needed to catch a transfer to Copan Ruinas. I was checked into my hotel before noon and at the impressive Mayan archaeological site by 1.00 p.m.
This was my second trip to Copan following an August 2008 visit during which I had no camera. Today's visit was mainly for the purpose of getting photos--in that I can report I succeeded beyond expectations.
Click the following link for a very interesting website about Copan Ruinas:
http://www.honduras.net/copan/
Apart from the thrill of again seeing this amazingly well preserved site, I can report the oddity of traveling from one of the least touristed areas of Honduras--the Ruta de Lenca which I've just traversed from Perquin to Santa Rosa--to one of the top tourist destinations in Central America.
The village of Copan Ruinas, which I remember vaguely as a quiet, hot, dusty, and somewhat unkempt municipality now sparkles and shines vibrant with international restaurants, coffee shops and bars, a slew of hotels, and more tourists than I've seen anywhere apart from Granada, Nicaragua. These tourists are more affluent and of a wider age range than the college age backpackers I encountered in Nicaragua. The French seem particularly well represented here.
Readers of this blog have probably noticed that I'm not a huge fan of spending big bucks for the "touristy type" tours no matter where I go. Anything that costs more than $20 gets a long hard look before I decide to spend.
But the $15 admission charge to these 1600 year old ruins were definitely worth the splurge for me--even for a second time. From its Classic heyday circa 426-900 C.E. this important Mayan settlement was second only to the even more remarkable--and larger--ruins in Tikal, Guatemala.
Now that I'm only seven miles from the Guatemalan border, and a six hour microbus ride to Antigua, and since my return mission to Copan is basically complete, it's feasible for me to catch tomorrow's noon micro out of here and be in Antigua tomorrow night. From there the famous market town of Chichicastenago is only a couple hours away and Guatemala City's airport is only an hour or so. I will be very happy to have most of these arduous bus trips behind me.
A note about my photos: my readers understand, as I do, that a cutting edge 21st century blog needs photos along with other up-to-date bells and whistles. I appreciate my readers for their patience in bearing with me until I can return to the States, download the software, and upload some of my hundreds of photos. I hope to have an excellent slide show on this blog by August 1.
This was my second trip to Copan following an August 2008 visit during which I had no camera. Today's visit was mainly for the purpose of getting photos--in that I can report I succeeded beyond expectations.
Click the following link for a very interesting website about Copan Ruinas:
http://www.honduras.net/copan/
Apart from the thrill of again seeing this amazingly well preserved site, I can report the oddity of traveling from one of the least touristed areas of Honduras--the Ruta de Lenca which I've just traversed from Perquin to Santa Rosa--to one of the top tourist destinations in Central America.
The village of Copan Ruinas, which I remember vaguely as a quiet, hot, dusty, and somewhat unkempt municipality now sparkles and shines vibrant with international restaurants, coffee shops and bars, a slew of hotels, and more tourists than I've seen anywhere apart from Granada, Nicaragua. These tourists are more affluent and of a wider age range than the college age backpackers I encountered in Nicaragua. The French seem particularly well represented here.
Readers of this blog have probably noticed that I'm not a huge fan of spending big bucks for the "touristy type" tours no matter where I go. Anything that costs more than $20 gets a long hard look before I decide to spend.
But the $15 admission charge to these 1600 year old ruins were definitely worth the splurge for me--even for a second time. From its Classic heyday circa 426-900 C.E. this important Mayan settlement was second only to the even more remarkable--and larger--ruins in Tikal, Guatemala.
Now that I'm only seven miles from the Guatemalan border, and a six hour microbus ride to Antigua, and since my return mission to Copan is basically complete, it's feasible for me to catch tomorrow's noon micro out of here and be in Antigua tomorrow night. From there the famous market town of Chichicastenago is only a couple hours away and Guatemala City's airport is only an hour or so. I will be very happy to have most of these arduous bus trips behind me.
A note about my photos: my readers understand, as I do, that a cutting edge 21st century blog needs photos along with other up-to-date bells and whistles. I appreciate my readers for their patience in bearing with me until I can return to the States, download the software, and upload some of my hundreds of photos. I hope to have an excellent slide show on this blog by August 1.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
The Road to Marcala, Honduras and Beyond
If I had known that the 25 mile trip to Marcala from Perquin was mostly dirt road I might have thought twice about attempting it. I knew beforhand that I was facing a three hour ride but what I didn't know was that three hours was the minimum I could expect.
With too late a start on Tuesday--about 3 p.m.--it took about an hour to reach the remote Honduran frontier post where the immigration office wasn't even open but a friendly Honduran policeman waved me through with a bus full of locals headed to the high and muddy villages on the opposite side.
During the notorious "football war" of 1969, El Salvador's stronger army seized this territory from the Hondurans. With the end of the civil war in 1992, the Hondurans took El Salvador to the World Court which ruled in favor of Honduras. El Salvador accepted this verdict but under protest, and therefore it doesn't maintain an immigration checkpoint here.
The people who live in this tiny slice of territory--mostly of the indigenous Lenca tribe--are technically Salvadoran who happen to live in Honduras. This political grey area also happens to be one of the most remote and impoverished of both countries.
By 4.30 I was dropped off with some locals as far as the bus could go on these steep muddy roads near the village of Sabanetas. From there, I was told, I could try to hitchhike the last treacherous 12 miles to Marcala. Or I could walk. There were no more buses that day.
Fortunately there was one "hostal " in a tiny settlement called Los Cipreses where I was able to get a bunk in a cabin with no electric but with outhouse amenities. All the other cabins were occupied by Honduran NGO workers.
The helpful people of the hostal hooked me up with the one gringo living in the area, a young Peace Corps volunteer by the name of "Frank." He is about nine months through his two year stint here, and as his Spanish is excellent he is a wealth of knowledge about the area. We chatted for about two hours.
It soon became clear that it is the rare tourist who passes through this stunningly beautiful region. (Frank said I was only the third stranded backpacker in Los Cipreses during his tenure thus far.) I spent a chilly, rainy night in my candlelit cabin.
The next morning, Wednesday, found me hiking with my gear up and down the kilometer or so to the Honduran army post where I was able to squeeze onto a micro for the 90 minute journey to Marcala, a town of about 11,000--by far the largest settlement around.
There is a surprisingly large number of foreigners here, but not of the tourist variety--yet it's not so surprising once the brain truly registers the immense scope of the poverty of the locals. The westerners one meets are very busy as aid workers for government and NGO alike (when I checked into my hotel I was asked "Who do you work for?").
Marcala has almost no paved streets at all which tells us, at the very least, that there are more pressing priorities on the very limited resources that are available.
Yet the town boasts a couple cyber shops and even a tiny cafe with an espresso machine which is where I met Rachel, a Wellesly College senior who is on a ten week internship doing research for a Yale-sponsored entity called Innovations for Poverty Action. She enthusiastically described her project studying the underground micro-finance economy of Honduras--basically she's researching loansharks and their customers--and comparing that data with the economy of legitimate micro-finance. With the knowledge gained by her excellent Spanish she was able to fill me in on the latest political situation including details of the coup in 2009 and events since then.
Transport from here to my next destination La Esperanza is also difficult and sporadic. If I cannot catch the 11.00 micro today I'll probably have to hitch a ride on a pickup, a common practice here. Usually the driver will charge the going rate, a dollar or so, same as the buses.
But there's certainly no turning back for me now. Thankfully, Marcala has an ATM so I was able to get stocked with lempiras, the local currency, enough to get me Gracias or hopefully Santa Rosa de Copan. It's only after that that I can hope for better, paved roads
With too late a start on Tuesday--about 3 p.m.--it took about an hour to reach the remote Honduran frontier post where the immigration office wasn't even open but a friendly Honduran policeman waved me through with a bus full of locals headed to the high and muddy villages on the opposite side.
During the notorious "football war" of 1969, El Salvador's stronger army seized this territory from the Hondurans. With the end of the civil war in 1992, the Hondurans took El Salvador to the World Court which ruled in favor of Honduras. El Salvador accepted this verdict but under protest, and therefore it doesn't maintain an immigration checkpoint here.
The people who live in this tiny slice of territory--mostly of the indigenous Lenca tribe--are technically Salvadoran who happen to live in Honduras. This political grey area also happens to be one of the most remote and impoverished of both countries.
By 4.30 I was dropped off with some locals as far as the bus could go on these steep muddy roads near the village of Sabanetas. From there, I was told, I could try to hitchhike the last treacherous 12 miles to Marcala. Or I could walk. There were no more buses that day.
Fortunately there was one "hostal " in a tiny settlement called Los Cipreses where I was able to get a bunk in a cabin with no electric but with outhouse amenities. All the other cabins were occupied by Honduran NGO workers.
The helpful people of the hostal hooked me up with the one gringo living in the area, a young Peace Corps volunteer by the name of "Frank." He is about nine months through his two year stint here, and as his Spanish is excellent he is a wealth of knowledge about the area. We chatted for about two hours.
It soon became clear that it is the rare tourist who passes through this stunningly beautiful region. (Frank said I was only the third stranded backpacker in Los Cipreses during his tenure thus far.) I spent a chilly, rainy night in my candlelit cabin.
The next morning, Wednesday, found me hiking with my gear up and down the kilometer or so to the Honduran army post where I was able to squeeze onto a micro for the 90 minute journey to Marcala, a town of about 11,000--by far the largest settlement around.
There is a surprisingly large number of foreigners here, but not of the tourist variety--yet it's not so surprising once the brain truly registers the immense scope of the poverty of the locals. The westerners one meets are very busy as aid workers for government and NGO alike (when I checked into my hotel I was asked "Who do you work for?").
Marcala has almost no paved streets at all which tells us, at the very least, that there are more pressing priorities on the very limited resources that are available.
Yet the town boasts a couple cyber shops and even a tiny cafe with an espresso machine which is where I met Rachel, a Wellesly College senior who is on a ten week internship doing research for a Yale-sponsored entity called Innovations for Poverty Action. She enthusiastically described her project studying the underground micro-finance economy of Honduras--basically she's researching loansharks and their customers--and comparing that data with the economy of legitimate micro-finance. With the knowledge gained by her excellent Spanish she was able to fill me in on the latest political situation including details of the coup in 2009 and events since then.
Transport from here to my next destination La Esperanza is also difficult and sporadic. If I cannot catch the 11.00 micro today I'll probably have to hitch a ride on a pickup, a common practice here. Usually the driver will charge the going rate, a dollar or so, same as the buses.
But there's certainly no turning back for me now. Thankfully, Marcala has an ATM so I was able to get stocked with lempiras, the local currency, enough to get me Gracias or hopefully Santa Rosa de Copan. It's only after that that I can hope for better, paved roads
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Revolution Museum and Guerrilla Camp Worth the Visit
Steady rain all yesterday kept me away from the village for much of the day, but by this morning it had stopped and left behind a thick foggy mist covering the surrounding mountains.
I caught a ride in the back of a pickup--the village is a steep quarter mile trudge up the hill from Perkin Lenca--and arrived at the Salvadoran Revolution Museum early.
Inside are photos, posters, news clippings and many artifacts from the rebels' side of the brutal conflict that ravaged the nation from the late 1970s until the early 1990s. A highlight for me was the various maps of the conflict including one that showed the extent of FMLN territorial control. Other maps included hand drawn ones of combat operations planned against government forces.
Artifacts include weapons, communications equipment, medical supplies, diaries and personal effects of fighters and their leaders. Though most of the accompanying explanatory texts are in Spanish, the visitor gets a good overall picture of the history of the war from about 1975 until a U.N. brokered peace was established in 1992.
Outside the museum are remnants of American made aircraft which crashed in the area or were shot down. Perquin was the center of a very large area of the department of Morazan which was under rebel control for much of the conflict, so it was also a major target for government air raids and bombings.
The guerrilla camp features much evidence of those raids including shrapnel stuck deep in trees, unexploded (deactivated) ordnance, and bomb craters. Like the Viet Cong before them, the FMLN fighters built tunnels to shelter them from those raids.
The rebel camp also had a display of the party's clandestine radio station Radio Venceremos and a photo of the captured vice minister of defense being interviewed by rebel journalists.
After a day or two up here the visitor gets a good sense of how and why the rebels were able to control this area for so long. This is high, remote, heavily forested country, and though the main road is now paved, everything off the main road is dirt (or mud, as it is now). Is it any wonder that a weak central government, unable to outright defeat the rebels, sought material assistance in the form of aircraft and airborne bombs from the Reagan administration?
Although there wasn't truly an FMLN "revolution" in El Salvador in the strictest sense, I think it's pretty amazing what did, in fact, take place. The FMLN and ARENA--the main government party--eventually came to an accomodation with each other, and since 1992 the FMLN has been an active participant in the political process here. To me that seems a fair outcome after a war which obviously couldn't be won by either side--even with American assistance for one of the parties.
I caught a ride in the back of a pickup--the village is a steep quarter mile trudge up the hill from Perkin Lenca--and arrived at the Salvadoran Revolution Museum early.
Inside are photos, posters, news clippings and many artifacts from the rebels' side of the brutal conflict that ravaged the nation from the late 1970s until the early 1990s. A highlight for me was the various maps of the conflict including one that showed the extent of FMLN territorial control. Other maps included hand drawn ones of combat operations planned against government forces.
Artifacts include weapons, communications equipment, medical supplies, diaries and personal effects of fighters and their leaders. Though most of the accompanying explanatory texts are in Spanish, the visitor gets a good overall picture of the history of the war from about 1975 until a U.N. brokered peace was established in 1992.
Outside the museum are remnants of American made aircraft which crashed in the area or were shot down. Perquin was the center of a very large area of the department of Morazan which was under rebel control for much of the conflict, so it was also a major target for government air raids and bombings.
The guerrilla camp features much evidence of those raids including shrapnel stuck deep in trees, unexploded (deactivated) ordnance, and bomb craters. Like the Viet Cong before them, the FMLN fighters built tunnels to shelter them from those raids.
The rebel camp also had a display of the party's clandestine radio station Radio Venceremos and a photo of the captured vice minister of defense being interviewed by rebel journalists.
After a day or two up here the visitor gets a good sense of how and why the rebels were able to control this area for so long. This is high, remote, heavily forested country, and though the main road is now paved, everything off the main road is dirt (or mud, as it is now). Is it any wonder that a weak central government, unable to outright defeat the rebels, sought material assistance in the form of aircraft and airborne bombs from the Reagan administration?
Although there wasn't truly an FMLN "revolution" in El Salvador in the strictest sense, I think it's pretty amazing what did, in fact, take place. The FMLN and ARENA--the main government party--eventually came to an accomodation with each other, and since 1992 the FMLN has been an active participant in the political process here. To me that seems a fair outcome after a war which obviously couldn't be won by either side--even with American assistance for one of the parties.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Why Not Travel With Fiddle in Central America?
Now that I've arrived in a place that's crying out for some good oldtime fiddle music, it seems the ideal time to address the issue of travel with musical instruments, or in my case, why I haven't traveled with my violin on these recent trips to Central America.
Since we were kids in a growing "Suzuki violin family" I had always traveled with my instrument, whether to Disney World or on other family road trips, but especially to Grandma and Grandpa's. Our parents felt it was important for us to play impromptu concerts for our relatives and friends, but we also had a fairly strict rule in our family: we had to practice every day, even on family vacations, as Shinich Suzuki always urged Suzuki families to do.
As a young adult my fiddle became both my "passport and bank account" as I used my musical skills to earn money for travel, eventually becoming a globetrotting busker in 1980s Western Europe and 1990s Southeast and Northeast Asia.
My instrument and the music I played weren't only a means of earning a living, but also served as a great way to meet people of all stripes--especially other musicans and other buskers who traveled along the same routes that I did. This was a great advantage to me in my globetrotting as well as in life in general. My fiddle has taken me inside many situations which never could have happened without the very fact that I was a working musician, and mostly outside my home element in the United States.
These are some of the reasons I have always traveled with my instrument. But now that I've become a teacher, it's been possible for me to join a world of the ordinary tourist. I think of it as a type of "accidental tourism," to qoute from the novel and movie of that title, because in doing so I felt way outside of my usual element.
When I first started traveling in Latin America in the late 1990s and early 2000s with a couple trips to Mexico, I continued to take my instrument along even if I didn't use it very much. Colonial cities such as Guanajuato or San Luis Potosi were made for the itinerant musician, but I didn't do any busking there, preferring instead to hear Mexican groups in the streets and plazas of those cities.
When I returned to Thailand for visits in 2005 and 2006 I continued to bring the instrument because many of my friends there are musicians and it was always possible to sit in and jam with them while they worked. And on my 2007 visit part of my purpose there was to record some 22 fiddle tunes which I did with a couple collaborators on guitar.
So why not travel with the instrument now? Really it comes down to a couple logistical issues, starting with post-9/11 hassles and airline baggage restrictions. For a time in the mid-2000s musicians all over America were complaining that the airlines were, in some cases, forcing them to check their instruments in the cargo hold. Though that era seems thankfully to have passed, more recently the airlines have become very strict about the size and number of carry on bags they allow, and they charge about $25 for each bag over that they require you to check in.
Secondly, my first two trips to Central America in 2008 and 2009 were only two weeks in length. Because of some uncertainty regarding the difficulties of bus travel in the region, and since I anticipated that I wouldn't use my instrument very much--if at all-- I decided then to leave the violin home and travel only with a small backpack and a day bag. This turned out to be the most convenient way to get around, but especially on the airlines and on some of the notorious "chicken" buses (they just keep packing them in like Colonel Sanders) in Guatemala, Nicaragua, and neighboring countries. I have to admit that questions of security also weighed heavily in my mind: would I lose my instrument to forgetfulness (a life-long nightmare of mine)? Even worse, would I lose it to theft? It didn't seem to be worth the risk for trips of such short duration. Yet I also must admit that I felt very strange traveling without my fiddle on those two occasions.
What about this trip now, which is seven weeks long? Well, I'm still dealing with the issues outlined above, but a major difference now is I'm taking a lot more time with this journey, so now the question has reasserted itself. And with my arrival in Perquin, it seems a shame that I won't be able to get to know the villagers and their children by offering up some fine impromptu fiddle music for their entertainment and enjoyment. Music has always been a cross cultural way to break the ice and form some connection with strangers. And that I'm not doing so on this trip is indeed a bit disconcerting for me.
This question certainly will pop up again whenever I decided to take more than a week or two in a given region. I would like to find a way to travel again with a backpack, a day bag, and an instrument, but for the moment I'm glad I don't have to worry about an expensive violin, and how I'm going to transport it safely on the next crowded, rattletrap of a bus I board.
Since we were kids in a growing "Suzuki violin family" I had always traveled with my instrument, whether to Disney World or on other family road trips, but especially to Grandma and Grandpa's. Our parents felt it was important for us to play impromptu concerts for our relatives and friends, but we also had a fairly strict rule in our family: we had to practice every day, even on family vacations, as Shinich Suzuki always urged Suzuki families to do.
As a young adult my fiddle became both my "passport and bank account" as I used my musical skills to earn money for travel, eventually becoming a globetrotting busker in 1980s Western Europe and 1990s Southeast and Northeast Asia.
My instrument and the music I played weren't only a means of earning a living, but also served as a great way to meet people of all stripes--especially other musicans and other buskers who traveled along the same routes that I did. This was a great advantage to me in my globetrotting as well as in life in general. My fiddle has taken me inside many situations which never could have happened without the very fact that I was a working musician, and mostly outside my home element in the United States.
These are some of the reasons I have always traveled with my instrument. But now that I've become a teacher, it's been possible for me to join a world of the ordinary tourist. I think of it as a type of "accidental tourism," to qoute from the novel and movie of that title, because in doing so I felt way outside of my usual element.
When I first started traveling in Latin America in the late 1990s and early 2000s with a couple trips to Mexico, I continued to take my instrument along even if I didn't use it very much. Colonial cities such as Guanajuato or San Luis Potosi were made for the itinerant musician, but I didn't do any busking there, preferring instead to hear Mexican groups in the streets and plazas of those cities.
When I returned to Thailand for visits in 2005 and 2006 I continued to bring the instrument because many of my friends there are musicians and it was always possible to sit in and jam with them while they worked. And on my 2007 visit part of my purpose there was to record some 22 fiddle tunes which I did with a couple collaborators on guitar.
So why not travel with the instrument now? Really it comes down to a couple logistical issues, starting with post-9/11 hassles and airline baggage restrictions. For a time in the mid-2000s musicians all over America were complaining that the airlines were, in some cases, forcing them to check their instruments in the cargo hold. Though that era seems thankfully to have passed, more recently the airlines have become very strict about the size and number of carry on bags they allow, and they charge about $25 for each bag over that they require you to check in.
Secondly, my first two trips to Central America in 2008 and 2009 were only two weeks in length. Because of some uncertainty regarding the difficulties of bus travel in the region, and since I anticipated that I wouldn't use my instrument very much--if at all-- I decided then to leave the violin home and travel only with a small backpack and a day bag. This turned out to be the most convenient way to get around, but especially on the airlines and on some of the notorious "chicken" buses (they just keep packing them in like Colonel Sanders) in Guatemala, Nicaragua, and neighboring countries. I have to admit that questions of security also weighed heavily in my mind: would I lose my instrument to forgetfulness (a life-long nightmare of mine)? Even worse, would I lose it to theft? It didn't seem to be worth the risk for trips of such short duration. Yet I also must admit that I felt very strange traveling without my fiddle on those two occasions.
What about this trip now, which is seven weeks long? Well, I'm still dealing with the issues outlined above, but a major difference now is I'm taking a lot more time with this journey, so now the question has reasserted itself. And with my arrival in Perquin, it seems a shame that I won't be able to get to know the villagers and their children by offering up some fine impromptu fiddle music for their entertainment and enjoyment. Music has always been a cross cultural way to break the ice and form some connection with strangers. And that I'm not doing so on this trip is indeed a bit disconcerting for me.
This question certainly will pop up again whenever I decided to take more than a week or two in a given region. I would like to find a way to travel again with a backpack, a day bag, and an instrument, but for the moment I'm glad I don't have to worry about an expensive violin, and how I'm going to transport it safely on the next crowded, rattletrap of a bus I board.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Day 35 in Perquin: Cool Remote Place Charms The Soul
Perquin strikes one immediately as very quiet (there's hardly any traffic noise apart from the bi-hourly bus); very beautiful! (we are high in the mountains here, and even as it threatens to rain, the calm, cool forest green surrounding the area is pleasing to the soul); and very remote (the 40 mile bus trip from San Miguel takes more than two and a half hours).
Here we are in FNLN country: communists! Perquin was their HQ during the civil war, and the rebel guerrillas controlled considerable ground in this region, with many sympathizers living in the area. As we drive up we see evidence of this on the walls of people's houses and businesses: the red of the FNLN serves as a backdrop to iconic portraits of Che Guevara and other leftist heroes.
I'm staying at Perkin Lenca, a fine hotel/restaurant built and owned by American aid worker Ronald Brenneman who made his name in the 1980s building housing for refugees made homeless by the conflict. I was skeptical when I heard that this place has hot water, but I can confirm it is true: today I had my first truly hot shower since I left the States. . .
Perquin village at first glance is extremely charming. In a sense, this is the most remote area I've visited on this trip--maybe the most remote place I've visited since I was in northern Laos in the 1990s.
By remote I mean it takes some time and effort to get here. We are in a mountainous border region of El Salvador which supposedly doesn't even have an immigration checkpoint with Honduras, just a few miles up the road.
By remote I also mean there are no chain supermarkets, fast food joints, or even banks here ( I visited the ATM in San Miguel today to make sure I'd have enough cash for the next few days). Yet there are a couple cyber shops, a handful of cellphone shops, and a couple dozen restaurants.
There is the usual church, albeit a very small one, and the parque central/municipal square. There also is the Museo de la Revolucion Salvadoreña.
But mostly there is a lot of peace and quiet along this so-called Ruta de Paz which runs from here to the Honduran border. Perhaps this route is a testament to the possibility of reconciliation between once deadly enemies who--even today--collaborate hopefully in government for the good of all Salvadoreans.
Here we are in FNLN country: communists! Perquin was their HQ during the civil war, and the rebel guerrillas controlled considerable ground in this region, with many sympathizers living in the area. As we drive up we see evidence of this on the walls of people's houses and businesses: the red of the FNLN serves as a backdrop to iconic portraits of Che Guevara and other leftist heroes.
I'm staying at Perkin Lenca, a fine hotel/restaurant built and owned by American aid worker Ronald Brenneman who made his name in the 1980s building housing for refugees made homeless by the conflict. I was skeptical when I heard that this place has hot water, but I can confirm it is true: today I had my first truly hot shower since I left the States. . .
Perquin village at first glance is extremely charming. In a sense, this is the most remote area I've visited on this trip--maybe the most remote place I've visited since I was in northern Laos in the 1990s.
By remote I mean it takes some time and effort to get here. We are in a mountainous border region of El Salvador which supposedly doesn't even have an immigration checkpoint with Honduras, just a few miles up the road.
By remote I also mean there are no chain supermarkets, fast food joints, or even banks here ( I visited the ATM in San Miguel today to make sure I'd have enough cash for the next few days). Yet there are a couple cyber shops, a handful of cellphone shops, and a couple dozen restaurants.
There is the usual church, albeit a very small one, and the parque central/municipal square. There also is the Museo de la Revolucion Salvadoreña.
But mostly there is a lot of peace and quiet along this so-called Ruta de Paz which runs from here to the Honduran border. Perhaps this route is a testament to the possibility of reconciliation between once deadly enemies who--even today--collaborate hopefully in government for the good of all Salvadoreans.
Friday, June 25, 2010
To Perquin Via Choluteca, or From the North?
My next decision is one of logisitics: should I return to El Salvador right away from the east and proceed to Perquin from there? Or should I travel by way of the Honduran capital Tegucigalpa and approach Perquin from the north?
The Lonely Planet warns that because of a border dispute with Honduras, El Salvador does not have an immigration checkpoint on the road to Perquin from the north. This may not be a problem for me since technically I'm still traveling on my initial 90 day stamp I received from the Guatemalans at the start of my journey.
But the Planet warns that if I exit from another El Salvador checkpoint, I could conceivably face the issue of having formally exited Honduras without formally entering El Salvador. Because of this potential uncertainty, I'm probably inclined to enter El Salvador from the east, just to be on the better-safe-than-sorry side of things.
On the other hand, since I've now postponed Costa Rica until late this summer, that gives me more time now to visit Honduras for a bit, which I'd really like to do. Though I'd prefer to skip Tegucigalpa, it might be worth my while to explore some of the area to the north of El Salvador.
My original intent had been to use Honduras as a transit point between destinations, but now that the option is open, it seems a shame to completely pass on by.
Thus I'll be busy with my guidebooks tonight to fix some alternate plans.
The Lonely Planet warns that because of a border dispute with Honduras, El Salvador does not have an immigration checkpoint on the road to Perquin from the north. This may not be a problem for me since technically I'm still traveling on my initial 90 day stamp I received from the Guatemalans at the start of my journey.
But the Planet warns that if I exit from another El Salvador checkpoint, I could conceivably face the issue of having formally exited Honduras without formally entering El Salvador. Because of this potential uncertainty, I'm probably inclined to enter El Salvador from the east, just to be on the better-safe-than-sorry side of things.
On the other hand, since I've now postponed Costa Rica until late this summer, that gives me more time now to visit Honduras for a bit, which I'd really like to do. Though I'd prefer to skip Tegucigalpa, it might be worth my while to explore some of the area to the north of El Salvador.
My original intent had been to use Honduras as a transit point between destinations, but now that the option is open, it seems a shame to completely pass on by.
Thus I'll be busy with my guidebooks tonight to fix some alternate plans.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Projected Itinerary Beyond Perquin
Following Perquin I may re-enter Honduras and travel by back roads to re-visit the Mayan ruins at Copan. This is worth another look for me because this time I will be able to take photos, unlike when I made the journey there in August 2008. Alternatively, I can reach Copan by traveling to the El Salvador/Guatemala border near Esquipulas then cross to Honduras from there.
At that point I anticipate traveling by microbus from Copan to La Antigua de Guatemala, a six hour trip which is the reverse of the one I did in 2008. From Antigua I can make connections to Chichicastenango and other towns further northwest.
That will pretty much wrap things up for me for this round of Central American travel. As of today I have just over three weeks to catch my flight back to the U.S.
At that point I anticipate traveling by microbus from Copan to La Antigua de Guatemala, a six hour trip which is the reverse of the one I did in 2008. From Antigua I can make connections to Chichicastenango and other towns further northwest.
That will pretty much wrap things up for me for this round of Central American travel. As of today I have just over three weeks to catch my flight back to the U.S.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Route Ahead After Perquin
I offer this post as a picture for the reader of what I face in the days ahead. Managua is about 9 hours from San Miguel by bus and includes two border crossings into Honduras & Nicaragua. Considering the fact that I prefer to travel 4-5 hours per day at most, that means a two day trip with an overnight in the Honduran town of Choluteca.
Once past the Nicaraguan border formalities I have to decide if I will stop in Leon and/or Managua (probably one or the other but not both). Then it's onward immediately to my true destination goals of beautiful colonial Granada & the charming Pacific coast town of San Juan del Sur. Last year I visited both latter two places but was very short on time. I would like to spend perhaps a week total in that area.
Then there's another border crossing nearby into Costa Rica and one or two days (at my easy-does-it tempo) to the capital San Jose. A day or two there hanging out with my student's Uncle Marco is sure to be a highlight of this trip.
From San Jose, another day's travel will get me to Tortuguero, famous for its turtle-hatching seasons and its remote beauty (the only way to get there is by air or boat). This is yet another place that, for me, is worth spending a few days.
At that point, Panama--or at least the Carribean coast of Panama near the Costa Rican border--becomes a viable option. However, if I go that route, then Merida,Venezuela simply becomes not viable at all--if it ever was, at my meandering rate of speed.
Probably the reader has figured out already that this trip isn't really about getting to Merida, or any other destination, but more about the voyage of getting to several stopping off points along the way. Budget issues also play an important part in my deliberations. For example, if it takes me 14 days worth of hotel spending to get to Panama City from here, but I can get a flight for the same amount or less, should I buy the plane ticket? The answer is, not if that expense puts me wildly above my projected costs for the entire enterprise.
Once past the Nicaraguan border formalities I have to decide if I will stop in Leon and/or Managua (probably one or the other but not both). Then it's onward immediately to my true destination goals of beautiful colonial Granada & the charming Pacific coast town of San Juan del Sur. Last year I visited both latter two places but was very short on time. I would like to spend perhaps a week total in that area.
Then there's another border crossing nearby into Costa Rica and one or two days (at my easy-does-it tempo) to the capital San Jose. A day or two there hanging out with my student's Uncle Marco is sure to be a highlight of this trip.
From San Jose, another day's travel will get me to Tortuguero, famous for its turtle-hatching seasons and its remote beauty (the only way to get there is by air or boat). This is yet another place that, for me, is worth spending a few days.
At that point, Panama--or at least the Carribean coast of Panama near the Costa Rican border--becomes a viable option. However, if I go that route, then Merida,Venezuela simply becomes not viable at all--if it ever was, at my meandering rate of speed.
Probably the reader has figured out already that this trip isn't really about getting to Merida, or any other destination, but more about the voyage of getting to several stopping off points along the way. Budget issues also play an important part in my deliberations. For example, if it takes me 14 days worth of hotel spending to get to Panama City from here, but I can get a flight for the same amount or less, should I buy the plane ticket? The answer is, not if that expense puts me wildly above my projected costs for the entire enterprise.
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