This year for spring break (April 20-29), we made a rare and
memorable trip to Carlos’s birth country, Guatemala.
Kirk and I originally traveled there in September and November of 2006 to visit our little Chub-chub. When the adoption process ended, we returned to Guatemala in January of 2007 to bring our son home. What overwhelming joy we felt!
More than five years later, we finally were blessed with the
time and resources to reunite Carlos with his birth country and culture. This
was also Arianna’s first visit to Guatemala. In the weeks leading up to this
trip, Kirk and I worried about how the kids would react to this very different
place, but we also felt confident that it was time to make the trek. After all,
Carlos was now a talkative boy who used every opportunity to tell us how things
were done in his imagined Guatemala (ex: “One time in Guatemala when I was a
baby, I went on a scary rollercoaster with lots of upside downs and I wasn’t
scared but my diaper fell off!”)
We took a direct red-eye flight to Guatemala City on Friday,
April 20th. Carlos is always enthusiastic about airplanes, but the anticipation
of going somewhere so special filled our little Chubber to capacity; he was ecstatic!
Not only did Kirk’s many travels provide the money and
points for our flights, but they also allowed the whole family to fly first
class; the kids felt so special!
We arrived bleary eyed Saturday morning and immediately
checked in to our hotel for a restorative nap.
In the afternoon, we took a taxi to a huge 3D map of Guatemala, which really put into perspective the immensity of Guatemala’s volcanoes. These burst out of the placid western coastline into multi-mile-high giants (some over 12,000 feet!) that frame some of our favorite places.
Next, we stopped at Pollo Campero to introduce our children to Guatemala’s signature fast-food restaurant (think: yummy KFC).
We then
visited the city’s central square, where the kids especially enjoyed chasing
Spanish-speaking pigeons, LOL.
The adjacent shopping district furnished our
proud Father and Son with Guatemala’s stylish national soccer jerseys (not
surprisingly, these are nearly impossible to find outside of Guatemala!) We
were grateful for the evening cloudburst that sent us back to the hotel and an
early bedtime.
Sunday, we took a taxi to Kaminaljuyu, the earliest known Central
or South American site with writing (remember: Mexico, which was earlier, is in
North America). Guatemala City grew
up and industrialized right over many of Kaminaljuyu’s ruins. From an
archeological perspective, this is unfortunate; however, from a sociological
viewpoint, this demonstrates the importance of this location to millennia of
people.
Happily, some ruins came under national jurisdiction in time to save
them from destruction, and it was amazing to walk among them and feel the deep history
that they represent.
After visiting the main ruins, we went to the Miraflores
Museum, which houses many of the artifacts discovered at Kaminaljuyu sites. In
fact, part of the museum is built within an old ruin, and we were able to walk through
a subterranean exhibit that led us under the mound (previously: pyramid).
Sunday evening, we took a taxi to Antigua, the old colonial
capital of Guatemala. If you’ve ever seen a postcard from Guatemala, it likely featured
this incredibly scenic town. We stayed at the picturesque Quinta de la Flores;
I thoroughly enjoyed the flowers, while the kids made good use of the
playground.
We spent Monday morning walking through Antigua’s quaint
cobblestone streets and taking in its many grandiose churches.
That afternoon,
our hotel concierge talked us into a ‘pleasurable family excursion’ to Pacaya
Volcano. We traveled by van with other tourists for 2 hours to the base of the
volcano’s hiking trail and found ourselves woefully underprepared: let’s just
say that this hike is intended for fit, active adults wearing hiking boots. The
‘pleasurable family excursion’ included climbing up a 60% grade on loose ash
and basalt gravel for an hour; then hikers slid down the mountain side for
another hour before resuming the 2-hour drive. We had to hire “horse taxis” for
the kids, and the loudly-complaining Lauren only barely survived the knee- and
ankle-wrenching journey.
Kirk especially enjoyed breathtaking views of the sun
setting over the volcanic horizon, but both the sky and the moonscaped terrain
were lost on the kids, who clearly let the other hikers know that we were bad
parents! Although the hike was not what we expected and maybe not a *good*
experience, we (read only: Kirk & Lauren) were glad to have seen a new part
of the country that we love.
We dedicated Tuesday to recovery and to ridding our bodies
of the persistent volcanic ash (read: gray boogers and fingernails). We spent
nearly two hours relaxing in the central square, where the kids made instant
friends with Jose, Carlos’s equal in age, activity level, and love for helados.
There, I became
friends with a Mayan woman named Ruth. She lamented the fact that the
Guatemalan government had ended foreign adoptions and emphatically promoted the
right for every child to have a loving family, regardless of how that family is
composed. She was pleased to meet our happy and pleasantly plump Señor Carlos and
thanked us for loving him so much. I was grateful to find a Guatemalan ally and
advocate for adoption.
We shared another lunch at Pollo Campero with a sweet street
urchin named Zacharias Carlos. He is 12 years old but probably weighs the same
as our gordito; when I hugged him goodbye, his chest felt hollow and frail like
an empty shirt box. Up until this point, Carlos was in denial about the poverty
in his birth country, despite the overwhelming visual evidence. He had been
insisting that “all kids have a mommy and daddy to take care of them.” Our
lunch with Zack seemed to erode the last of Carlos’s stubborn but innocent
optimism in a gentle way. The following day, Carlos came to the realization (1)
that Guatemala is a marvelously wonderful place that he can be proud of; but
(2) that many people—especially children—in Guatemala face hungry lives full of
hard work. For all of our family, this experience reemphasized how
unexplainably lucky we are to enjoy such blessed, blissful lives and how important it is for us to love
and care for the rest of humanity.
Tuesday afternoon, the kids played in the hotel pool while
Kirk and I relaxed among the quinta’s pristine landscaping.
On Wednesday we traveled to Panajachel by way of the
Panamerican Highway. The backdrop of volcanoes and rolling hills took our
breath away and inspired Kirk with the desire to someday drive the entire length
of the “1” (Kirk will be alone for that drive, LOL).
Just 6km off of the 1, we found Iximché (ee-sheem-chay), a
city of little-known ruins in the mountain tops. After seeing so many green
mounds that represent buried ruins (leaving much visualization to our imaginations),
we were flabbergasted and elated to discover extremely well-preserved pyramid
temples, aqueducts, city plazas, and the ever-important Mayan ball court (no
wonder why Carlos has innate soccer skills!) Even the kids were impressed by
the monumental scale of Iximché’s structures; there was a definite feeling that real people once lived out their lives among these magnificent
buildings.
We arrived in Panajachel at the lake-view Posada de Don
Rodrigo Wednesday evening. Somehow, despite this being my fourth time to
Guatemala, this was the first time I tried Guatemalan enchiladas. They are a
disaster of tastes: start with a tostada shell, then add a cabbage leaf, a
small portion of shredded meat, pickled beets, and a hard-boiled egg. That was
a hungry meal.
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| our room on the left, overlooking Lake Atitlan |
On Thursday, we joined another van of tourists for a trip to
Chichicastenango’s famous market. At first, we were annoyed that our guide
wanted to lead us through the market, but, once we stepped into its convoluted
passages, we were grateful for a knowledgeable companion.
The market is full of
Mayan handicrafts and magic; fresh produce and grains; and lots of eager kids who will “give you a special price” for whatever
they’re hocking. Our guide kept us moving at a brisk pace to make it through
the main parts of the market, and he showed us all sides—the enchanting
clothing as well as the chicken heads for sale.
He also took us into the *infamous* Chichicastenango cathedral,
where worshippers overtly combine the Catholic and Mayan religions into a
complex, ritualistic creed. This church is notorious for welcoming devout Mayan
Catholics whose beliefs have little in common with the Pope’s; other
Guatemalans view the compromise of faiths with humor and see themselves as “true”
Catholics when compared to Chichicastenango’s aberrant traditions.
We had the brief opportunity to empty our wallets in exchange
for souvenirs before setting off for the ruins of Kumarkaj. This was once the
exclusive city for royals, but it has not endured as well as Iximché. The mountain-top
location commands an impressive view of the surrounding lands. While this
unique geography enabled its ancient locals to watch the progress of the incoming
conquistadores, it did not prevent
the Spanish from sacking the city.
Realizing that they were doomed, the Mayan men
carved a hidden network of caves under the mountain bluff for their families to hide in before they (the men) succumbed to invasion and death.
We returned to Panajachel Thursday evening with just enough
time to make use of the hotel’s waterslide and pool (read: highlight of the
vacation for our kids, LOL). At the pool, we met another adoptive family whose
Guatemalan daughter is only 1 month older than Arianna.
Our kids instantly
became buddies, so we decided to prolong the fun by dining together. Arianna
made the meal into an event when she began dancing to the music, and we ended
the evening practically crying with laughter.
On Friday, we took a guided boat tour around the scenic Lake
Atitlán. Our guide brought along his son, Marvin, who was also Carlos’s age. We
stopped at the small towns of San Marcos, San Juan, and San Pedro. San Juan is
one of the last locations in all of Guatemala where ancient Mayan textile
traditions continue.
Our guide took us to a women’s cooperative managed by an energetic lady in her 60s. She led us through the process of refining and spinning cotton, dying it with natural plant matter, and then weaving it into elaborate patterns. The loving and painstaking care put into each item contrasted sharply with our commercialized, mass-produced lives in Los Angeles.
Next, we boated to Santiago, the Mayan city opposite
Panajachel. Santiago sits along a narrow isthmus of Lake Atitlán. The immense
and picturesque volcanoes of San Pedro, Tolimán, and Atitlán seem to leap from the
lake as they surround Santiago, which is one of the most authentic and purely
Mayan places in the whole world. Our guide noted that 7% of the residents speak
only Mayan languages, and even those who know Spanish generally use Mayan
dialects for everyday life. The only way to get to Santiago or its neighboring
villages is by boat or, more commonly, canoe.
We toured the town and dropped in on a ceremony with the Mayan
idol Maximon. He is a wooden carving who enjoys cigars, booze, money, and
expensive silk scarves. A quorum of brethren oversees these religious ceremonies,
and the shamans act as intercessors between worshippers and Maximon. Previous
to this experience, Arianna had asked me why Catholics pray to idols. I
explained that they weren’t actually praying to the statues but to the people
represented by those statues (ex: Jesus or Mary). However, our encounter with Maximon
gave me the chance to essentially say, “This is it, kid!” Arianna seemed both
fascinated and horrified to witness true idolatry.
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| pronounced ma-she-moan |
Before leaving Santiago, our guide brought us to the home of
a wizened woman who spoke only Mayan. This woman kindly showed us how to wear
Santiago’s traditional clothing and even dressed up Arianna. It was an amazing opportunity
to be part of such a rich and welcoming culture.
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| the headdress is 22 meters long! |
The sun was setting over San Pedro Volcano as we made our
return trip across Lake Atitlán. It felt as though we had left this world and
were instead traveling in some heavenly place; the beauty and peace of our
surroundings simply could not be captured in words or photographs.
That evening, Carlos had an upset tummy, so we cancelled
Saturday’s excursion to the ruins at Takalik Abaj and instead spent the morning
relaxing and touring Panajachel.
This was the only city where we saw gringos—a big change from five years ago, when adoptive families and tourists were everywhere. Happily, there were five additional adoptive families staying at our hotel, and the kids had lots of fun feeling part of a bigger multicultural family movement.
Our hotel also featured a small museum of artifacts
retrieved from within Lake Atitlán. In 2010, divers discovered five Mayan
cities that sunk two thousand years ago when volcanic activity caused the lake
bed to shift. It was amazing to see fully intact vessels that still had carved
designs on them despite being submerged for so many years. (You may notice from
other pictures that the lake is currently elevated by 10 meters, so the fate
of these sunken villages seems to be a common hazard of lakeside living.)
Saturday afternoon, we reluctantly left paradise and returned
to Guatemala City. We ended our vacation by discussing the many things that we’d
seen as we dined at a “chapin” restaurant.
Early Sunday morning, we were back at the airport, and
Copilot Carlos got to ride home in first-class seating again.
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| the airport is new since our last visit in 2007 |
We feel so blessed to have enjoyed this wonderful trip.
Despite Guatemala’s harsh realities (ex: poverty), our kids came to adore this
wonderful country that means so much to us. Carlos even suggested that we move!
Our kids were more mature, wiser, older
people when they returned to America, and, for that alone, the trip was
invaluable. We are so proud of their eagerness to learn about and experience a
new culture, and we look forward to future family vacations to the “alma de la tierra.”
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| "alma de la tierra" means "soul of the earth," and refers to Guatemala |
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Dairy products are
pretty much our family’s mascot, so there could be some sad alterations in our
future. (Gluten + dairy = now you see why I have a paunch, LOL!)
The principal reassured me that she started
out teaching just two classes, but that’s not doing a lot of console me. I also
heard from my professional references that a high school in Santa Clarita is
doing their due diligence on me for a French position; keep your fingers
crossed!
