Ah, the sacrifices we make for our children. Including our ankles. Here are some shots of the streets of Xela, and the curious sidewalks. It seems that every 5 feet of sidewalk was layed at a different time, and for a different purpose. In any block, you can come across a 3 inch high section, a 2-foot high span , a utility cover, no sidewalk, a 50% graded “driveway”(actually a cement ramp designed to drop a car the 2´ from a courtyard to a narrow street. A lot of cars here have rubbed or dented ‘corners’ from trying to make tight turns against cement walls or curbs,) an 8-inch wide sidewalk, a sidewalk partially blocked by a cement utility pole so that the only options, if you’re over 10 years old, are to jam yourself between the pole and the building or swing out into the street – and speaking of which, more often than not, there isn’t enough room to do the “slide sideways past each other” when passing someone, so you usually find yourself yielding to ladyfolk and the venerable by traipsing out into the street, most of the width of which is already required for the (swift) passage of vehicles, and paved with uneven cobblestones of various designs.
So, dancing between ankle-breakers and speeding busses I make my way to class each morning. I was still using a cane and icing my sprained ankle when Sarah and I arrived in Guatemala. But between the roads and the altitude, this town really toughens up the legs. At about a turned ankle every other day, a few outright falls, and two close calls with cars, I´ve managed to drastically improve my reflexes, increase my lung capacity, and keep my ankle somewhere between nearly healed and somewhat gimpy.
After being forced by cars out of the more level streets and into the paths of little old ladies or utility poles on the sidewalks for 3 weeks, it was a pleasure to see the vehicles themselves squeezed. The car above wedged its rearview mirror into the van (each vehicle pressed up against the curb/sidewalk) as it tried to pass. They were still troubleshooting how to get unstuck without damaging each other when I left. Maybe Guatemala should import their cars from Italy. When we traveled there, we couldn´t figure out why all the cars had rear-view mirrors that folded in. Then we drove the curving, narrow roads around the Amalfi peninsula. On streets you mighta sorta felt okay driving a single car past pedestrians, they took full sized tour busses past each other on hairpin turns, with cars parked on either side and motorbikes squeezing through cracks an octopus would have trouble traversing. The first time I was stuck in a tight spot I was sure I could not drive out of, gestures from passers-by reminded me that my rear-view mirror could fold in and provide that last tiny bit of space.
Like Europe, everyplace seems tighter here. Buildings in large cities and small towns are right up against each other. The only thing between those buildings and the other side of the street is sidewalks and pavement, dorrways are narrower and public transport cramped. A couple of the famed chicken busses are shown above. They’re essentially imported school busses. So it´s not the finest comport for a 4-hour trip. Instead, to Xela I took a ‘pullman’ bus – an imported used greyhound (without bathroom). However most people spend the 3$ it takes to go that distance on a chicken bus instead of the $7 I spent. The chicken busses are good for getting around the countryside, and we use them whenever we go on field trips with the school ( as well as pick-ups for the shorter runs.) The name comes from the fact that you´re supposedly as likely to have livestock as a person for your seatmate.
It´s great to be getting familiar with the culture, surroundings, and language that we’ll experience together when we visit as a family. I guess I picked this part to highlight today because of my aching ankle! But all of it is memorable, from the incredible colors of the textiles Mayan women wear, to the kind and open nature of the people to the rockin’ ceviche I just had for lunch.
See you all soon.
-Matt
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