Antigua!

Jeff and I just arrived in Antigua this morning. I don´t have my camera with me now, but I´ll be putting plenty of pictures up of this past week very soon.

Jeff and I just enrolled in some classes here in Antigua to improve are Spanish. I will be taking classes 8 hours per-day throughout the week, and Jeff will be doing four hours,--I´ve got quite a bit of catching up to do in comparison to Jeff´s six years of Spanish in school.

We´ll be staying with one of the host families that is provided by the school, with 3 full meals per day and constant Guatemalan study partners.

I´ll have easy access to the internet all week, so I´ll put up more entries and photographs later.

Yes, Gavin is Still Alive...

Where to begin!

First of all, yes, Jeff and I are both alive and safe. We are currently in Cancun (such tourists we are!) and after we finish here at the internet cafe, we will begin to work our way down the Yucutan Peninsula via bus, and will be spending Christmas (maybe) in Flores, Guatemala, and the New Year in Antigua Guatemala, just outside of Guatemala City.

Down to business:

It was impossible for us to hitch a ride out of Albuquerque. Throwing out our cardboard pizza-box sign, we bought two bus tickets to El Paso for $30 each, with hopes that we could hitch-hike south along the Rio Grande from there. When we got to El Paso, we had a dramatic change of plans. We met our new friend David, a Mexican who was in Colorado visiting his brother, who was on his way back home to Gomez Pilacio, a large city in northern Mexico. David offered for us to cross the border with him on a bus and to stay with him and his family in Gomez Pilaco.

The bus station in Juarez was by far the nicest bus station I have ever seen--that is, other than the military rifling through my bag with serious machine guns slung over their shoulders.

Our time spent with David and his family in Gomez Pilacio was eye-opening to say the least. Throughout our stay, which ended up being an entire five days, Davids family was consistently bathing us in Spanish while Jeff and I tried to keep up.

His family was incredibly hospitable. Alle, one of his sisters, made us several meals of eggs and beans, gorditas, tacos, etc. She and Dulce, Davids 8 year old niece, would take Jeff and I around town during the day while David was at work. They would never let Jeff and I go out alone--it was always too dangerous for gringos like us to be without one of them.

We spent plenty of time in their back yard, trying to convince Dulce not to beat little black dog Benji, while Alle did laundry by hand and hung clothes out to dry.

I fell in love with Dulce. She is a very cute little Mexican girl who wears her hair in a pony tail, and loves her candy. On friday, while Jef and I were still asleep in Davids room, she poked her head in to see if we were awake. When she caught my eye, I was greeted with a great big smile as she whispered "almuerza?" (breakfast?). After eggs and beans, Jeff and I spent the rest of the day playing with her.

The family dynamic in Davids home is very interesting. Dulces mother works during the day and Alle stays home to take care of both Dulce and Davids mother. Dulces father took off when she was very young, and therefore David is the only male figure in the household and acts as Dulces father. The relationship between Alle and Dulce is very intriguing, and illustrates the beauty of familial support under the harsh conditions of poverty.

Although I understood little of what she was saying, Alle quickly became my own "tia" (aunt). She was very concerned (yet not forceful) when she discovered that Jeff and I are not Christians. She was pleased when we went with the family to church, and gave us big hugs along with kisses on the cheek with our departure. One day, on our way back from the market, some kids called jeff and I "hotos" (faggots) and she took more offense to it than Jeff and I did. When Jeff and I left Gomez Pilacio, Alle made sure that we understood that we will always have a home in Mexico.

Their home alone is a symbol of the omnipresent poverty in their city. When we first arrived, the toilets would not flush -nonetheless, there were no toilet seats. Instead of cabinets, there were nothing but makeshift bookshelves that contained their few pots, pans, and dishes. Water pressure throughout the house was lower than I had ever seen it, and power lines dangled freely in the backyard. Curtains were held above windows by straightened wire hangers and light-fixtures were often broken, if not, non-existant. The cement that formed the walls was crumbling in many places, and the stairs leading up to Davids room were bare concrete.

Despite all of this, Davids family, especially Alle, went to great lengths to make sure that everything was perfectly clean. If Alle wasnt cooking or washing dishes in the kitchen, then she was scrubbing clothes and hanging them to dry in the backyard. The whole family took great pride in their cleanliness-both in the spotlessness of their home, and in their immaculate heigene and appearance. David says that he is puzzled at the fact that so many Americans look so dirty and dont take advantage of the opportunity to present themselves better while the means to do so are so readily available. I am guilty as charged.

Jeff and I tried to help out around the house whenever we could. Jeff had the opportunity to make authentic Mexican pico-de-guillo and Ive done alot of the dishes-which is quite time consuming when you dont have a dishwasher and must clean up after 5 to 8 people. We have also helped to buy a few groceries, including a lunch of delicious gorditas one day from a merchant just down the road.

The downtown region of Gomez Pilacio is packed with people. Many of the stores are incredibly Americanized. Driving in the city is an adrenailline rush itself--despite traffic laws, drivers here in Mexico basically do whatever they want. The streets are covered in trash, blocks of crumbling brick and other debris are piled up on every corner, and there isnt a single spot on any urban wall that hasnt been hit with graffiti.

David would usually come home from work (he works for the Mexican Government) at around 3:30 everyday. After strolling around town with David and running errands, we would go to a local bar on the other side of the city, where there was a jukebox that played American music.

We did several night-time activities with David. One night, we went out with his co-worker, Fatima, to a delicious Mexican resturaunt, where they both paid for Jeff and I. Another night, after going to church, we went and saw a giant statue of a Mexican war-hero atop a mountain, and another giant statue of Jesus on the other side of town on another mountain top. One night, we went to a "posada", which is one of many parties that occur within the week before Christmas. Here, we met a few Mexicans who spoke a little bit of english and one of them even pulled out his gun to show off infront of his friends. Jeff and I danced to a live band with some of the Mexican girls at the posada, and when the band left, we lingered with the lingerers, drinking "cervesas" until well past 2:00 am.

We left Gomez Pilacio for Cancun with David on Friday night, and didnt arrive until yesterday afternoon. Last night, we stayed in a hostel and woke up late today to eat breakfast at a resturaunt across the street. We did some laundry this morning, and now, were headed south on another bus for Playa del Carmen.

Snow--shit.

Jeff and I are in Albuquerque, New Mexico right now, and if we had a schedule, we would be running behind. Hitch-hiking through Southern Colorado and New Mexico has been somewhat difficult--it's not near as easy to hitch-hike as the Western Slope. On Saturday, we bought a marker and made a sign that said "Rocketship Broke, Need a Ride South", to see if it would help us get a ride; apparently, people thought we'd rather have money and we ended up getting handed dollar bills instead.

We only made it to Walsenburg our first night, and after building stoves out of alluminum cans in a convenience store, we got invited to camp in a local's back-yard. We woke up freezing cold and in the snow that we were hoping to outrun. We finally got a ride out of Walsenburg in an 18-wheeler, all the way to Albuquerque by a guy who convinced us to become Jehova's Whitnesses ;) . We got dropped off two miles out of down-town and have been here ever since--we got a hotel room last night to avoid more snow, woke up this morning, and are debating where we should cross the border into Mexico.

By the way--I cut my hair...

This blog is for YOU.

Jeff and I are leaving tomorrow. Our bags our packed, and our “thank-yous” and “good-byes” have been said. Among many other things that are uncertain, I have no idea when I will have the opportunity to further update this blog. Our only plan is to hitch-hike south toward El Paso, where we will (hopefully) be able to catch a bus that will take us over the Mexican border and through one of the most dangerous cities in Mexico, Cuidad Juarez.

Jeff and I agree that we would like to be in Mexico City for Christmas. After that, we hope to head further south to Antigua, Guatemala and then on to Costa Rica, where we plan on working on an organic farm for free room and board. With an open-ended schedule, we plan on working our way all the way down to Tierra del Fuego, the southern-most tip of South America, located in Argentina. We have only two limitations: the slow depletion of our meager budget and our goal to be back in Denver by August, 2009.

With these things said, I write this blog for one reason: you. My friends and family. Saying farewell to all of you wasn’t easy—but there will be no better feeling than embracing you when I return. I’ll miss each and every one of you—Mom, Dad, my brother Max, my Grandparents on both sides, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

Among my friends, I’d first like to thank Pablo Cruz, who inspired this adventure in the first place; Rey Hernandez, who taught me to see people for people; my childhood friend Caitlin Muse; Jordan Woodard (don’t get married while I’m away—I’d still like to be your best man!); my intellectual partner in crime Dave Wylde; Gary Bryant, one of my closest friends and mentors who has taught me about the value of life; and Coya Lindberg, whose generosity in allowing me to crash at her place for the past two weeks helped me save up enough money to make such an adventure possible.

I’d also like to thank Dr. Pamela Troyer for encouraging the spirit of the “bad—ass wanderer” within me all the while making sure I pursue my studies; and Dayne Pillow, founder of There and Back magazine, for showing me that I truly can write for a living.

Cheers,

Gavin Wisdom