Showing posts with label Antigua. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Antigua. Show all posts

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Merry Christmas – Go, Go, Go

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It seems Christmas day is no big deal here in Antigua; the exception is the firecrackers are still going off, making every one jumpy when taken by surprise. Our shuttle was due at 12:30 to 12:45, so we had time to walk downtown for breakfast. Everything was packed up and ready to go. We walked down to Café Bourbon which we had picked out yesterday as a place to try and asked ahead of time if they would be open Christmas day.

With cool jazz playing in the background, the graphics decorating the wall was a mosaic of jazz artists, which led me to rethink that this place was named for the liquor. My next best guess is that it is named for Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Typical of our meals here, it is so very inexpensive. We each had a variety of a full breakfast with all the trimmings and both of us had specialty coffees, Ron added on orange juice. I chose a second café latte. When we asked for the bill, we thought we were undercharged. It was 100 Q. There was no sign of my second coffee or Ron’s juice. When I tried explaining to the waiter they short-changed themselves, they looked confused. We owe you more than this I insisted, “We had 3 coffees total and an orange juice.” After some contemplation, the waiter called a colleague to look over the bill and bring it back to us with an explanation. Two of our coffees were included in the meal as was Ron’s orange juice. Our two very substantial breakfasts were only 10 Euros total.

As we leisurely walked back to our hotel, we searched out fresh fruit for our trip, but it was not to be had.  We sat around reading and waiting. There was a young couple from Canada who was also leaving for Pana as we were, but they were not on the same shuttle. When ours came, we said good-bye and climbed into a van like a soccer mom would use to cart around kids. Being next to the last, the shuttle was full with every seat taken. Right next to me was a young father with his very young baby boy. It was gratifying to see how well he cared for the baby, including mixing formula while holding the baby in a nurturing manner. By the time, I poked my nose out of my novel, he was beyond needing my help. Our road trip was about 2 hours on some paved roads and highways, but others cobble stone.  

A first impression of Pana was that this was a gigantic strip mall of outdoor booths. Our hotel, Mario’s Rooms is very centrally located. On either side are booths, stores, restaurants, and more of each. From what we saw of the town, this is a major street, one-way traffic, and hundreds of businesses with hundreds of workers begging you to come to their place to spend money. We walked down to the lake, Lake Atitlán and walked the shore line where there are another fifty or so vendors trying their luck interspersed with establishments such as restaurants in secured buildings.

As we walked, we ran into the Canadian couple from our hotel in Antigua and chatted for a bit. They are on an 8 month holiday throughout Central and South America and then Tibet. We found a place for our dinner, where two chicken dinners complete with potatoes, vegetables, and bread cost 3 Euros each. The next most expensive dish was 4.50 Euros. Ron keeps telling me how spoiled we are getting.

Before dinner and on the way back to the hotel, we stopped at three different travel agencies to check on boat ride tickets to the Mayan villages. Around Lake Atitlán, there are ten Mayan village settlements where they supposedly practice the ancient Mayan customs. Each of the agencies had similar offers, but one had 4 villages for the same price as the others had for 3 villages. Choosing the 4 village ‘tour’ set us back 90 Q or 9 Euros for both of us.

 Back at the room, it was chilly, so we did pull out the blankets. Their electric outlets are very convenient. In both hotels thus far, we have found that the outlets will accommodate both US and European plugs without needing a convertor. Ingenious! We will have to see if that is available in Europe also.

One Christmasy side note: My one private student, Janos, generously gives me Christmas presents each year. This year, he overwhelmed me with a pile of them. I had wanted to take them with us and open them on Christmas morning. Ron and I don’t exchange presents; our travels are our presents to each other. With airline limits being what they are, I opened my presents right before we left, but held the memory for Christmas morning. Janos himself is my best present.
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Friday, December 23, 2011

For Whom the Bell Tours

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There is a US American woman here who has made Antigua her business; her name is Elizabeth Bell. She runs a tourism agency, but primarily she sells walking tours and promotes her books on the city. Ron found out about her in our guidebook so we booked a 9:30am tour, giving us time to have breakfast beforehand.

We were to meet at the fountain in the central park, the place where Clara patrols. Of course, she spotted us immediately, but even if she hadn’t, all of her compatriots did shouting out a chorus of Clara, like tribal drums through the jungle. This is their own type of alarm system alerting them when a potential customer is returning. When you first suggest you may potentially buy at some time, though not the present, they tell you their name for future reference. What they need to include is “I will be your stalker for the rest of your time here.”

Elizabeth Bell showed up and assembled the group. She immediately corrected one person who stated she was an American. Elizabeth said that Guatemalans are also Americans, so those who need to should identify themselves as from the U.S. Although I agree with the comment, from the way it was delivered, I soon realized that this 3 hour tour was going to be really long. These tours really make me chuckle sometimes. Usually it is US Americans who start out by introducing themselves to everyone else around. Once they share their name, they want to know your name, country of origin, state if it is the US, what your occupation is, how many siblings you have, if you have any piercings, have your bowel movements been regular since being here. Based on their questioning, you would think we were doing 5 minute dating or deciding who gets the last life raft on the Titanic. Hey people, after this 3 hour tour, I am never going to see you again and no, I don’t want to friend you on Facebook.

Elizabeth moved here when she was fourteen years old and her father’s job took the family here. She has been here since and she is currently fifty-seven years old.

Elizabeth started this jolly holly tour by telling us that anyone caught cutting a tree, Christmas or otherwise from any forest would immediately be put in jail. Deforestation has ruined parts of the country so the laws have gone from fines to imprisonment. She continued with her monologue stating Christmas trees are not a Guatemalan tradition, nativity sets are. Christmas trees are tacky, especially the plastic ones. You won’t find many Christmas trees in the country, but you will see plenty of nativities. As I am staring at her while she speaks, I cannot help but notice the plastic Christmas tree decorated in the park about twenty yards behind her left side. All the stores and businesses with the exception of some restaurants will close early tomorrow, Christmas Eve.

In Guatemala, the major celebration is on the eve, not on the day.  As we hear from Bell, the churches will be jamming tonight, because many people who don’t set foot in church all year will attend Christmas mass. However, there is no midnight mass; 9pm is the latest. After mass, at midnight, the family has its Christmas dinner. After dinner they open presents and fireworks are ubiquitous. We were warned not to plan on getting much sleep for the noise. Christmas day is a relaxed kick back day. Santa Claus doesn’t come either, but the Santas you see around town will deliver presents for a fee. You hire a Santa to deliver a present and all the money the Santas earn go to charitable organizations. They volunteer their Santa time.
 
Once we were off and walking, the first place was the mayor’s chambers on the main square. There was an election and new people will take office in February. The president is only allowed to run for one term. As each person leaves their post, they take everything with them. The last major shredded all of the documents that accumulated during his administration. Leave no paper trail, seems to be business as usual.

We went to the new and old cathedrals, places where we had been on our own, but was now getting some input that we had not had. The new cathedral is earthquake proof, which the old one was not. This also referred to all of the buildings in the city. None of them are over 2 floors high and this is an earthquake measure. Their walls are extra thick and being so low, they cannot fall over. While in the church someone in the group asked why there was no baby in the crèche. Elizabeth explained that he does not get put in until Christmas mass which is on the eve, not the day. 

Another observation I had made was that there are no signs sticking out from buildings. The only identification of a business is on the front usually over the entrance. Until you get that close, you have no idea where the business happens to be. They have a sign ordinance here forbidding signage. The lack of flashing signs is surprisingly pleasant and attractive. Most of the stores do not have display windows either. Those that do, they are covered by bars with a shelf inside the bars, so they fill it with plants, not merchandise.

One woman on the tour was taking copious notes of everything Elizabeth said. I asked her if she were researching a novel, but she is a journalist with a small town newspaper. She kept stopping Elizabeth asking her to repeat things so they could be notated. From the pages of notes she had, she could have filled the NY Times travel section. Another woman had hurt her foot, so was hobbling around. Ron became her crutch going up and down stairs.
    
Elizabeth has been involved in a number of civic matters, both in reconstruction of historic buildings and social rights for women, education, and assorted other services. School is free, but books are not. They have to be bought from the beginning, so many children drop out of school after the fourth grade, luckier ones last until sixth grade. Her goal is to support the purchase of books so that more students can graduate high school. University is not free, but low cost, but again all expenses are a burden of the student.

The tour ended at one of the jade museums, where we heard about jade and learned there is a translucent and blue jade. The blue jade is quite lovely.

After the tour, we went to meet Clara in the park to buy the placemats and napkins we had promised to buy. I was not thrilled with the quality, but they were cheap enough not to squabble. After we told Clara our wallets were now closed for repairs, we just chatted. She was telling us that she sells things so her daughter can finish high school and then go on to college. She said once her daughter finishes college, she will quit. I had finished the The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, so we brought it back to her for her daughter who also speaks English. She was thrilled. She may sell or she may keep it, but it is her business that she needs to do what she needs to do.

We had a late lunch so came back to the hotel to gather our things for part 2 of going to the bank for cash. Everything will be closed Christmas day and we leave then for our next port o’ call, which Ron has warned is even lower key than here. Can I handle all of this rest and relaxation without running off to a museum or some other cultural event? With cash in pocket, we went back to the hotel to rest. Later this evening we were on our way out the front door when another guest stopped us to tell us to be careful. She was just robbed a few doors down from the hotel. She is a petit woman, young and alone; her name is Chen. As she was calling her bank, she shared that she was just returning to the hotel when a guy with a gun robbed her of her purse. She tried to just giving him the wallet, but he wanted it all. He had an accomplice on a motor scooter that whisked him away. With that paranoia, we only ventured to the church where little old ladies sell tostadas and tamales in the evenings. We had tamales, went for a beer, and returned to the hotel. We made a point to run into Chen to see if she needed money, but she has wisely left the bulk of her money here. There was no rendition of O Holy Night as the police said she will never recover her things. Merry Christmas, ho, ho, ho!
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Thursday, December 22, 2011

Mercado Mercado Mercado

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Ron found this restaurant listed in our guide that is supposed to have exceptional breakfasts.We needed the fortification for a day of exploring Mercado after Mercado after Mercado. We honestly checked and there are no museums here in Antigua. Without a museum to learn about culture, the next best thing is to shop. As we were heading to the restaurant, we confirmed our shuttle ticket reservations for Christmas Day when we will move on to the next city. Don't ask me what it is. Ron does all of the planning, so I am surprised when we leave one place and wind up in another.

The restaurant did have an excellent breakfast at a reasonable price, so much so, we booked reservations for dinner. They have some sort of dance performance. Until dinner time, we had to work up our appetites. As we were meandering toward the first Mercado, the old cathedral was open for exploration. It is not much more than a shell now, but it had some great architecture in its time, some still in evidence. Apparently, it was destroyed in earthquakes. They charge 3 Quetzals for entry, well worth it to explore what is still standing.

Our first Mercado was right in the center of town. We had passed the door a number of times, but did not realize what it was. Once you enter a long hallway, there are over a hundred stalls with goods that range from t-shirts to blankets, sculptures scarves. It is like a war zone. As one passes each stall, you are assaulted with the vendor's offer to give you a special price on whatever they have to sell. Of course this price is only in effect for today, so you must hurry. 

It is like a mine field trying to get past each one without having to stop and look at merchandise you have no interest in. If they should have something that catches your attention, you are doomed. Once you stop to look at something, even for a second, it is as if you have been trapped into a game of negotiation. I could kick myself each time I stop to check out something that has caught my eye, but on closer inspection is of no interested at all. A powerless comes over you. You know you need to make a quick get-away, but you are torn between courtesy and fear.

We made it down one whole row of about 45 stalls, but at the very end, Ron was attracted to painting and stopped. I have to admit, it was interesting. It was from the perspective of the ground up, while other paintings were from a bird’s eye view. There was a special deal for us for today because we were special people, but it was way too high. We left with the salesboy, not yet a man, begging us for forgiveness. Our hearts of steel carried us forward.

Mercado number 2 was a distance away, causing us to traipse through dusty streets frequented by a number of chicken buses and trucks. My first inclination was to skip over this part of the adventure and move on, but Ron persevered. Thankfully, he did. This was a cultural experience bar none. The Mercado is covers 4 square blocks and is filled with booths that sell everything and anything. It reminded me of the Chinese Market in Budapest, but items here were better quality. Still, you see the same merchandise at least 27 times throughout the Mercado. How can anyone compete? This is not a tourist area, as we were in the minority. Most of the shoppers had a better coffee color than we did and many dressed in cultural clothing that tourists generally don’t wear.  It is a maze that one could get lost in if you dare leave the straight path cutting through. I was tempted to look at other merchandise a few spaces to the left, but was afraid I would not be found again until New Years. We did look for the paintings we saw in the other Mercado, but it just doesn't exist outside of that one booth.

Our last Mercado of the day was another one in town. It is a giant cooperative where you can find many of the same things as everywhere else, but there were some differences. As the t-shirts in Cambodia say “Same-Same, but Different”. We found a great set of 4 posters, modern, a touch of indigenous, but inviting colors that we will have framed when we return.

Of course, we could not escape Clara, our wandering saleslady in the park. She decided we needed a set of table mats, which did trigger the notion that it would be good to have for the new apartment. Of course, we should buy the table first, but what the heck. After telling her that none of her colors met our needs, she promised to have a better selection tomorrow. She did sell us another table runner while she had us in her web.

We had to torture ourselves by visiting that one painting one more time in the first Mercado to see if we could reach a realistic agreement. Because it is located in the very back of the market, I told Ron we would have to make a mad dash, running past all of the other hawkers. We set a new record, but there was still no agreement on negotiations.

With great anticipation, we headed back to the restaurant where we had reservations. For the dinner show, you are seated in a different dining room than the uninitiated who haven’t been privy to live entertainment. There is no charge for the show other than your meal costs. Feeling special, we decided to order cocktails; they were listed on the drink menu and quite honestly, I have been thirsty for a Manhattan for some time now. The last time we splurged on cocktails was in Ljubljana where they tasted okay, but lacked liquor. I ordered a Manhattan and Ron ordered a martini, both specifically without ice. I would have said we wanted them “UP”, but I thought that would be lost in translation.

The drinks arrived. Ron’s martini had little ice floes floating around where miniature polar bears could have lounged or hung over the sides to catch fish. My drink was a dead give-away that there was more wrong than a polar experience. The glass was not a Manhattan glass, but one that you would use to serve a daiquiri or any of those sissy drinks that contain mini-umbrellas. Good grief, it also had a slice of orange on the side. The final clincher was that it was cloudy, not clear. I had to taste it in the waiter’s presence before sending it back. It tasted like Kool-Aid mixed with a scoop of sugar, but as far away from a Manhattan as Beijing is.

The head waiter wanted to know what was wrong. I explained how a Manhattan should be prepared. After a thousand apologies, they took it back and returned with a new drink. It looked identical with the exception that this one was adorned with an orange slice and a cherry. The cherry was all of the progress they made. The drink was identical.

Our dinner choices lost something in translation also. I ordered enchiladas, which I have been hungry for for some time, so was thrilled to see them listed. Ron ordered Chile rellenos. While we anticipated our gastronomic delights, a group of 6 xylophonists played in tandem. Six men playing in unison is a great feat and they performed superbly.

Hot plates were set in front of us. My enchiladas, note the plural, turned out to be a singular tostada. My culinary hopes vanished into thin vapors of steam coming off of my platter. Ron’s Chile rellenos was even more perplexing as it was sans the Chile. They must have stuffed the pepper, cooked it and then peeled the pepper off and tossed it.

Distracting us from disappointment were the dancers. Dressed in Mayan costumes complete with masks, they danced for fifteen minutes, the last 5 with audience participation. Once the show was over, we mourned our dinner another minute before paying the bill.
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Wednesday, December 21, 2011

I Give You a Very Good Price - $1.00

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Our hotel in Antigua is delightful. There are only about fourteen rooms; ours has a view of the volcano and the neighbor’s lovely garden below. At first, I thought the walls were strangely painted by children, but later in the day, I noticed that this must be a style here. Our room walls look like the plaster was steamed with moisture when painted creating streaked color with lots of white showing through. It is childlike, minimalistic, simplistic, and charming all in one.

Breakfast is not included here, but there is free tea, instant coffee, and local bread-type items to munch on when you crawl downstairs. We are both sore and crawling takes more flexibility than either of us are feeling today. So much for Pilates and yoga lessons before we left. 

However, there is a city to be seen. Most of the buildings are only 2 floors and they all look alike with the exception of colors. Once you leave the hotel, it is necessary to recognize landmarks to find your way back. At the end of our street is a psychologist and massage therapist: head and body care. Less than a block is the cathedral making a complete package.
 
One of our first chores was to get money. Everyone loves American dollars, but in reality you lose since the exchange rate changes all of the time, but they hold to the exchange of 7 to 8 Quetzals to the dollar, which may or may not be in your favor. We had taken some American dollars out of the ATM in Miami, but the machine had a limit of $250 per day, so that is all we could coax out of it. This turned out to be a good thing, but we used a part of it to pay our driver from the airport.

Prior to coming, Ron read a number of horror stories about using ATMs here in Guatemala. Crooks gain your ATM card number and code and then wipe your account clean. Being a different country, it is difficult to get restitution. We attempted to get a disposable ATM card before coming, but the timing did not work out in our favor. 

Once here, we were told that some banks have tightened up controls and the ATMs are now safe at BAM bank only. We went to the tourism agency next to the bank to book a walking tour, but were discouraged from using the ATM regardless of the bank. This created a whole new process for us. We had to use the agents inside the bank, but the line was ten deep. Fortunately, there was an American sitting waiting. She told us that the Colombians bought all of the banks in the country, thus making it unsafe to use ATMs anywhere. To get cash without the ATM machine, you had to have your ATM card, passport and a second photo ID.  I don’t carry ID with me, so we had to leave and return later. 

Luck was with us. There was no one in the bank, so we were cared for immediately. The process took twenty minutes. In Hungary, they have a zillion rubber stamps and everything has to be stamped thirteen times after they have handwritten all of the information. Here, the poor banker had to enter heaven knows what into the computer. If I had not seen his fingers gliding over the keyboard like Dick Button, I would have sworn he was the world’s slowest typist. He did however; know his way around the Spanish version of QWERTY working at a speed that was a golden invite for carpal tunnel. After sweating it out, fearful that our Euro account in Hungary would provide some glitch, he handed me a pile of papers sans any rubber stamps and only one signature. This had to be presented to the cashier for the good paper, currency. All of this for a maximum daily withdrawal of 330 Euros.

Within an hour, I am convinced by this young beautiful woman that I need to buy two table runners. At first, the one with the pinks, oranges, reds, greens, purples, blacks and yellows was really appealing. This took me by surprise, because normally I would say “too gaudy”. Maybe it is the surroundings that give it appeal. Set against a volcano background, it was quite attractive actually. It is one of those things that once you have it home, it transforms into “What was I thinking?” There is the new apartment to decorate, so it can be shipped over there, but then too, it was a bargain. 

This lovely woman had a sling around her neck which instead of holding a bambino, was filled with dozens of runners. Her pitch started out with "I give you a good price, $1.00". Who cannot resist $1.00? Somehow, we paid $23 for two. Still a bargain, but how did we negotiate in the wrong direction? Ron egged me on for getting 2. I would have settled for one, which I could probably have bargained for and gotten for $39.99. Later in the day, others have wanted to sell me things for $1.00. It must be a local custom to confuse the tourists or they have me pegged as a sucker.

Table runners are all I bought today, but I did give a little boy some change. He wanted to polish my Crocs, but I explained they only needed water, not shoe polish. I took his picture, but then felt guilty when he rubbed his stomach and told me he was hungry; it is one of the words I remember in Spanish. Just leaving a restaurant where we enjoyed lunch, aided my need to be codependent regardless of where the money finally ended up. 

We also made friends with Clara, another lovely lady who made me promise I would look at her table runners tomorrow. I promised I would look. Just like most Latin American countries there are throngs of people out selling goods from flutes to table cloths and other things in between. “I give you a good price” and “I give it to you for $1.00” must be all of the English they learn. Well, not true, they do know all of the numbers above 1 when it comes to bargaining.

In the afternoon, we returned to the hotel for a rest, to read and to write. Around 6pm, we heard music and the faint sounds of people singing. Curious and about to go to dinner, we headed out the door, but stopped in our tracks. Walking past our hotel door were three angels, each with different types of wings. Ahead of them were three kings, but no others corporeal or inhuman followed. When angels have feet and use them rather than their wings, you know something is amiss. Soft stepping behind them, we knew they were headed for the cathedral where the singing was still going on. These three were certainly not part of the choir of angels or else they were in trouble for being late. When we arrived at the church, there were people milling around, but not nearly what one would call a crowd. 

The singing and music came from a band that set up in front of the church. There was no indication that this was a special occasion. They were not dressed in anything, but regular clothes. As the angels made their way to the church, they just hung around the parking lot, not joining in, not doing anything angelic. The three kings totally disappeared, perhaps because there were no stars out last night; they lost their way.

When it was apparent there was not going to be a choir of angels serenading us, we left and went on to dinner. Ron had read about an El Salvadorian restaurant. Service was excellent. For the first half hour, we were alone with the waiter and chef. I loved my pork dish; Ron was up in the air about his choice. Even when you know the language, ordering in an unfamiliar restaurant is always a gamble.    
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Tuesday, December 20, 2011

American Airlines - 2 Thumbs Down

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After three poor nights of sleeping due to noise, we are moving onward. The circles under my eyes looked like hillside tiered gardening. If there were a inevitable harvest, I wouldn’t mind, but it is ruining the last of the good looks that I am desperately trying to hold on to. Getting to the airport was a snap. The metro station is almost outside our hotel door and under it is the station for the train. One train ride for one stop and then on to the metro connection and we are at the airport within twenty minutes.

American Airlines has a self-check in process in Madrid Airport. We could have printed our boarding passes at the hotel if they had a printer we could use, but there are also machines in the airport to do it for you. You punch in the reservation number, scan your passport, put in the number of pieces of luggage you intend to take and then gasp in all of the O2 when you see the additional cost if you have 2 pieces. One piece is free; a second is an additional hefty charge. Carry-on is limited to one piece, but the instructions are unclear whether this means in addition to a purse or briefcase or if this is the one piece. With boarding passes in hand, all we had to do was drop off our luggage at the designated drop off desk. It seemed like a simple task, but it turned out to be lengthy, making us miss any chance of using the Diners Club lounge.

Before shedding ourselves of the luggage, we had to go through a series of security questions, but the woman would not allow both of us to be there at once. Only family members are allowed to be joined at the hip. I corrected her and after a moment’s hesitation, she proceeded. Spain allows same sex marriage and all the rights therewith, so why should we be excluded? The list of questions was the usual, “Who owns these suitcases?; Who packed them?;  “Has anyone given you any gifts?”, but the differences were she genuinely seemed interested in the answers.

Once she put our clearance stickers on the bags, we had to drop them off at the counter. Although this was supposed to be a drop off only, the line was slow and tedious, because people are arguing over what they intend to check and what is a carry-on. It took us over thirty minutes after we had already printed out our boarding passes. Then we were told we had to be at the gate 1 hour before boarding or they would unload our luggage, plus there was a warning that the travel time to the gate from where we were standing was thirty minutes away.

It took moving escalators, moving sidewalks, elevators, and an airport sky train to get close to our gate; the balance of the distance was old-fashioned walking. When we were in the gate area, there was a lounge nearby, but they were not the Diners Club lounge. We were informed there was another lounge upstairs, but she wasn’t certain who they catered to. Being paranoid about time, we went to our gate.

The flight from Madrid to Miami is 9 hours and 40 minutes. One would think that in this day and age, a modern plane would be flying this route. It wasn’t. We were held up when the back-up generator failed. They had to complete the paperwork, but there wasn’t a word about fixing it on this old 767 equipped with a single row of monitors running down the center row of seats. Passengers not only did not receive any choices in entertainment for this long flight, but those who were stuck on the sides had to stretch their necks to view the videos. Although we had center seats, I skipped over the poor choices of entertainment and read my book instead. When drink service started, they announced that beer and wine would be available for $6.00. After hearing that, I tuned out on the cost of liquor. It was incomprehensible that a major airline would charge for the first drink on an international flight when one considers the cost of the ticket. Meal service was typical airline meals, but they service of the staff was excellent. The steward who gave me my meal asked if I wanted a bottle of wine gratis. I was not sure why, but I seem to think it was because I wanted chicken, but they only had pasta left.

Going through Miami was another nightmare. We were transiting through, but still had to go through Passport Control and Customs. Why are we wasting resources on that when we were already in a secured zone?  This took up a good 45 minutes of the 2 1/2 hours we had to spare between flights. Then we had to do the security thing all over again. They wanted to put me in that XRay machine where there is a see all-tell all view of your nakedness. I don’t even like seeing my naked body; I am certainly not going to parade it for strangers in Miami. Well, what a hullabaloo that was. I had to stand aside and wait for someone to be available to give me an hand examination. I waited so long, I felt like it was punishment for not getting the photo shoot done and over with. Ron went the same route, but his exam was faster. Not having been to the US since January 2003, it really irked me to have to deal with all of this. I had hoped that being a transit passenger, we could just slip by unnoticed and unharassed. 

American was the airline from Miami to Guatemala City. People were jamming with their carry-on luggage. How they managed to get as far as the boarding gate without being stopped by someone, is beyond me. There were full sized suitcases that would not have fit in an overhead bin during the most generous days of flying. Airline personnel were waiting at the gate, and stripping these people of their luggage and handing them an ID tag to pick it up in the luggage area when we arrived. This may have been smart, because I am not certain how the airline could then charge them for excess luggage once they made it to the door of the plane.

Flying time is 2 hours and 40 minutes. They had video monitors on this plane too and video service. If you wanted to watch the television shows they played, it would cost you $2 for earphones. If you had your own, they still wanted the $2. If you want anything other than soda, coffee or tea, there is a charge. One guy behind us ordered a couple of scotches. $26. The person on the other side of the aisle got some potato chips in a can. $3.29. If I were the flight attendants, I would be humiliated to ask for the money.

We arrived in Guatemala City, but we are staying in Antigua. Ron had arranged a taxi to meet us. Sure enough, there was a guy with a sign, which I pointed out to Ron. After we drove for an hour, I had this horrible thought. Having been traveling at that point for 26 hours, I was not certain I had read the driver’s sign correctly. I did see Ron Sc, but you know those visual tricks where your mind fills in what you think should follow. There was never a word spoken with the driver, making me hope for the best. Fortunately, we did arrive in Antigua after 1 ½ hours and he did drop us off where we had reservations. Time for a long winter’s nap or at least until 10am tomorrow.
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