Austin, Texas

In a few words I bring my first blog to a close.  Our experiences over the 45 day trip are deserving of a book rather than a blog post.  However, a point of completion is always necessary to any task. I encountered dynamic people, beautiful terrain, and new emotions in Central America.  By backpacking a portion of the western hemisphere I have been better able to understand myself and the world around me.  I really do not know the exact reason I undertook this trip.  It appeared challenging and somewhat unprecedented.  It seemed to offer freedom that can only be found outside the comforts of a familiar environment.  It was a way to grow closer to my beloved cousin. Most importantly, I believe, it would allow me to get closer to finding my purpose.  I am forever indebted to the people of Central America for allowing me to enter their lands as a visitor and letting me leave a better person.

On that final crossing into the United States of America Max and I stopped just before the official line marking the border.  We looked at each other, with bags on our backs, and held hands.  Together, and in unison, we stepped over the line into the United States bringing finality to the 45 days and 7 countries that were our Central America trip.

McAllen, Texas - United States of America

We have returned to the United States of America.  

After our one night in Saltillo, among the echos of our family's past, we departed and arrived at the Reynosa -Hidalgo border crossing.  On that hot day we carried the weight of the gift bags we had filled over time along with the weight of the memories earned over the duration of the trip.  We scaled the white spiraling stairs that led to the elevated bridge which hovers over the Rio Grande.  It felt like we were ascending into the heavens.  It was the feeling a mountain climber must feel upon reaching the summit. From the bridge three beautiful images lay just over the river in clear view: The Texas flag, The American flag, and Whataburger sign.

A short and to the point stint at the border patrol office was our only stop before heading straight to eat.  The border patrol agent had a son who attended the University of Texas and our ability to make a close connection certainly helped ease our entrance.  Sweaty, hungry, and mentally drained we walked two blocks to the best cuisine that Texas has to offer - Whataburger.

For the out-of-staters, please cope with the next few sentences as they directly relate to Texans.  Max and I spoke about getting to the Mecca of all fast-food joints during our entire trip.  When food was difficult to swallow and we had thoughts of the comforts of the states Max and I would simply discuss out loud what we would order upon arriving at Whataburger.  Like the volleyball Wilson that Tom Hanks grew to love in the movie "castaway" so too did we create mental distractions in order to keep our sanity.  We have a new and solidified appreciation for American cheeseburgers and fries.

My mother picked us up from the restaurant and we headed to the hotel which we would call home for one night.  We consider it "our" hotel, as we stay in that same location upon every visit to see family in the Rio Grande Valley.

We spent the evening visiting with my grandmother who continues to live in the house where our fathers grew up.  With my new confidence with Spanish I was able to have the most 

complete conversation I have ever had with my grandmother.  One day we were in the town of my grandfather, the next day the town of my father, and in the following day we would be in my own town of Houston.

We were back, not completely acclimated, but we were back none-the-less.  I am proud to declare that we were never victims of crime.  We arrived home with what we had taken originally - a goal that I set out to attain.  I never got sick (knock on wood for future trips) reaffirming that my illogical approach toward eating while traveling is successful.  Entering the United States safe and sound with all items in tow makes a traveller want to scream in exhilaration.

Following the one night in the Valley I drove the 6 hours back home to Houston.  It was the most peaceful 6 hour trip I have ever taken.  

This post is the last pertaining to the events of the trip.  One last summary will follow.

Saltillo, Mexico

The Garcia sons returned to their place of origin.  Our grandfather departed the town of Saltillo back in the early 20th century as part of the Bracero Worker Program with the U.S. To my knowledge we are the first of our family since that time to step foot back on the soil containing our deep roots.  We were all proud to be in a place that at one time in our family's history we called home.

Saltillo itself is quaint and the people are incredibly friendly.  It is not grand like the colonial tourist towns, but not ragged or culturally devoid like some of the smaller towns in Central America.  

Emotionally we were all in period of "calm before the storm" - well, especially Max and I.  We were one night away from home and all the luxuries that come with it.  As a result of that mindset we spent the day aimlessly wandering the markets and sitting in the plazas.  We even spent a good amount of time in the hotel.  At this point in a long trip, you almost want to go into hiding so as to not have any bad experiences that might taint the trip and be qualified as bad luck.  One night until home - only one night.

Even with a mixture of calmness and anxiousness we decided to go out

 on the town for our final evening.  We drank some beers and danced with some new friends at the very American Carlos and Charlies Bar.  

The next day we would cross the border into home.  The final post to this blog will follow.

San Luis Potosi, Mexico

On this trip I have encountered the most beautiful rainbow, volcano, waterfall, pyramid, and sunset I have ever seen.  All those natural occurrences became temporarily forgotten when I entered the city of San Luis Potosi.  It is there that Max, Tex, and I would find the most beautiful women of the entire 45 day excursion.

I wish at this point there was more to offer in the way of personal experience, but

 there is not.

The town itself was surprisingly beautiful.  It was unexpected only because I have met many immigrants in the U.S. who have roots in this particular town.  I figured it must have been, well, a place that one would actually want to leave.  This was not the case.  There were beautiful plazas, churches, shopping avenues, and parks.  There was a slow pace of life, but nothing implicating the place as a monster scaring away its citizens.

Two days from home, we passed the day away eating, drinking, and window shopping.  Having already spent my money in San Miguel de Allende, it was definitely a good decision.  

During the only evening in San Luis Potosi I found myself engaged in a religious conversation in one of the

 town plazas.  A young man sat down next to me on a park bench to discuss Jesus and all the other tangents that naturally accompany a discussion of him.  Slowly but directly, the rest of his group gathered around me as well to take part in the debate.  

All in Spanish, I proceeded to defend my opinions/theories/philosophies with regard to religion and Christianity.  It was as if God sent me a final oral Spanish test to take at the end of my trip.  It was a good opportunity to practice Spanish and also pass on my logical conclusions.  Imagine 8 people huddled around me, listening, objecting, and eventually shaking their heads in understanding. It should not be an illusory image, because the event actually occurred.   On the stoned plaza, beneath the stone masoned cathedrals, I felt like a philosopher of old teaching in the School of Athens.  It was an incredible hour and a half experience that will not be forgotten.

Knowing that only one town, one blog, and 6 hours lay between me and the U.S. kept me constantly thinking of home.  At the end of a long trip you spend then last few days willing yourself to get back.  I apologize to San Luis Potosi (and even the women) for not being wholly present in mind and heart. I do promise to return to San Luis Potosi (and the women).

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

I returned to the movie set Mexico likes to call San Miguel de Allende. Last summer I lived for a week in this colonial town learning and practicing Spanish. Clean and vibrant, San Miguel is still the place that I am most certain I will return many times into my future. The actual filiming location for "Once Upon a Time in Mexico" really looks as it does on the big screen. Because of its appeal, the emphasis of this blog is on location and not so much on us.

We stayed at my hotel - the place I called home for a week in the summer passed. After a brief contemplation the owner of the hotel remembered who I was and quickly moved to replace her current reservation in order to accomodate us. The family bond that had existed from the previous year was still intact. It is a warming feeling to make true lasting friends in a foreign country.

Most of our days in San Miguel were spent filling the empty suitcases Tex brought with gifts for loved ones back home. The artesanias, jewelery, and pottery handcrafted in the town are the best in the area. Shopping is exhausting but we managed to survive the arduous task. We filled our bags with blue-rimmed glasses, beaded masks, decorative silver, and ornamented crosses. As all of us Garcias had recently moved to Austin, we found plenty of Mexican pieces to fill our new apartments.

San Miguel was the first of our final 3 quick stops. Leaving the town was not sad or difficult because I will be returning frequently.

Mexico City, Mexico

I completed a life goal by entering the streets of Mexico City....

First impression: Mexico is humongous. It is not so much overpowering as it is never-ending. The former home of the Aztecs was like the last frontier of Mexico for me. I had never been to the city in all my travels throughout the country. It was an accomplishment of a lifetime.

We arrived late on a Saturday night so we quickly showered and took a taxi straight to the Zona Rosa bar section of town. The bar scene was not as impressive as I expected it to be. After a brief stop at a bar with live rock music we decided to liven things up a bit - so we headed to a place called ¨Foxys.¨ It was a waste of time and money, but not effort I promise. At the end of the display I was surprised with the collective $300 bill. Turns out, this fine establishment chages $13 for a corona and $30 for our ¨friends¨ drinks. I bit my lip and we walked out feeling collectively hustled. Welcome to the big city I guess.


The following day, in order to redeem myself, I set out to find the true essence of D.F. Leaving the younger cousins behind to shop, I bussed myself to Teotihuacan - the location of the Aztec pyramids. As this was the most important moment of the trip for me I would like to explain its siginificance...



Imagine the feeling that most people have upon their college graduation - mixed nostalgia, combined with exhiliration, upon excitement of the unknown. Some might also feel relief or for some a sense of accomplishment; I truly felt none of the previously mentioned emotions. The sentiment of completion for which I yearned had alluded me.

My true graduation occurred while walking at the summit of the Aztec pyramid. My bedtime stories included the names of the Aztec kings Cuahtemoc and Montezuma. Raised with the confidence of an heir to their ancient thrones, I have carried within me a strength and spirit derived from another era. The ruins were part of a mythology to me and representative of something divine. As if that was not sufficient to give them greater meaning, these pyramids had come to represent a relationship that is no more. Near the heavens, surrounded by blue sky, with the strong wind pushing against my skin, I could only feel whole. In my life that experience has marked a termination. It was truly the completion for which I had been searching.



I descended and would meet a couple new friends on their way back to the metropolis as well. I would spend the entire rest of the day running around the city with them. They gave me the underground guided tour of the non-tourist sections of town. I hung out in an apartment, rode the subway, and ate a famous taqueria. It was the pefect ending to a life-changing day.



If I described everything I saw in Mexico City it would bore all readers and myself. Therefore, I will let this post mostly be a tribute to my experience at Teotihuacan.



Mexico City was the pinnacle to my trip and catalyst for a new period of my life.

Oaxaca, Mexico

"Oaxaca, Oaxaca, Oaxaca......"

These introductory lyrics delivered by the distinctivly haggard yet uniquely soulful voice of a zocalo (plaza) singer continue to resonate in my mind. He was only one of many performers that would seronade use while eating the comidas tipicas of the puebla.

This was not my first rodeo in Oaxaca; I had previously visited the state for a week with my family at the age of 13. I had hoped I would walk into the zocalo to have memories remerge. I had no such luck. Unfortunately, no expert knowledge could be claimed.

If 2 Garcias travelling together didn´t create enough volatile energy then 3 was certainly sufficient to create an explosion. We picked up Max´s brother, my cousin, Tex at the airport. He would finish the remaining 7 days with us.

The only place that I did vividly remember was the famous Dona Rosa black pottery shop. The Oaxaquans mold sculptures, pottery, and jewelry out of natural clay. Once set to fire, it hardens in a pitch black hue. It had been 10 years since I had walked on that very ground. Even though I am in my early 20´s that kind of experience can make one feel a bit weathered.


We tried some local prodcuts. Tex and I tried Mezcal. It´s basically tequila without the chemicals, straight from the plant. Also, we all ate crickets. I wasnt´t brave enough to try the delicacy on my last visit so I had to on this one. The picture is posted.


After a day of trying new things the spirits of Mexico would take over...

Following our feast in the romantically lit plaza, we would accept an offer from Tex´s new friends to attend a house party in another section of town. The tequila poured and the bachata, salsa, and banda music were no less intoxicating. We were the triggers to the party. Eventually we would make our way back to our luxurious hotel in the zocalo. Drama ensued.

Due to the family friendly rating of this blog I will leave readers to their imaginations. However, here is a list of verbs (some requiring direct objects) that help to tell the tale of the night: Eating chile rellenos, sipping tequila, dancing, shooting tequila, carrying family, shoving family, throwing luggage from 2nd floor balcony (okay, one prepositional phrase). The events of that festive evening will allow me to expound upon an observation of mine.

Mexico is replete with emotion - for better or worse. Love can be more loving, violence more violent, hate more hateful, and compassion more compassionate. A culture that embraces both life and death is bound to provoke emotions in people. On my trips to Mexico I have felt the entire spectrum of emotions - from love to anger. Both beauty and darkness inhabit this country and it can consume the inhabitant and visitor. I have been consumed by and touched the soul of Mexico.

In the morning I said goodbye to Oaxaca, later than planned, yet necessarily. On the bus toward Mexico city, I mentally dispelled the chaos of the previous night and the dumbfoundment of the morning. The only things left resonating in my head were the lyrics of the old man singing ¨Oaxaca, Oaxaca, Oaxaca.....¨

San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico

We have arrived to a place that is recognizable, familiar, and comfortable. It is not home, but it is soothingly similar. After 33 days of travelling through 6 unknown lands Max and I have entered our 7th and final foreign country: MEXICO.

Although we stood on our own two feet, internally we both were crawling toward the Mexican border. It took us 4 chicken buses under a rainy afternoon in order to finally set foot in our intended destination. We inherently knew that the trip would get a much needed final boost of energy upon entering the country of our ancestors. Mexico to this point has certainly been just that.

Our first stop was the puebla of San Cristobal de Las Casas in the state of Chiapas. Chiapas is where the revolutionary guerillas Zapatistas originated, so there is still an aura of pride in the distinctive qualities of the state. One can also find a fair number of international hippies scattered around.

In previous posts, possibly prematurely, I compared Central America´s aesthetically esteemed cities to those of Mexico. My observations were confirmed while walking around San Cristobal; That is, Mexico has the most tranquil, culturally saturated, and gorgeous pueblas from Latin America´s waist up.

We spent two full days wandering around the cobble-stoned town. Each store is painted with a unique pigment. What would be considered an eye-sore to some neighborhood communities (cough...cough... Irving, TX) back in the states is cultural expressionism here.

Tacos are back. I know it may sound a bit odd to some, but not all Latin Americans consume tacos. Mexico is actually the only Central American country that offers them.

Since this would be our last stop in what was previously land occupied by the Maya, Max and I bought tickets to a play with a plot based on Mayan mythology. The dialogue of the work was performed completely in Quiche, so we understood very little. However, the elaborate constumes and the scantily clad love interest were more than entertaining.

We generally spent our days as one should in the beautiful pueblas of Mexico. We shopped for artesanias, sipped coffee at the outside cafes, read in the parks, and lounged the time away in the zocalo. Of course, filling the gaps with internet stints for blog posts.)

At the end of our 2nd and final day in San Cristobal we entered an 8pm bus for a 12 hour ride to Oaxaca - the location where we would add a new traveller to our journey.

Chichicastenango, Guatemala

Every Thursday and Sunday the town of Chichicastenango turns into a Mayan market probably not so different than how it would have been during the reign of their empire. Max and I found ourselves in the town by a stroke of luck in timing. After a few hot tortillas and an early morning bus we were in Chichi and pleasantly surprised as to the activity.

The pictures I took in Chichi only begin to capture the unique experience of walking around the intense market. Imagine a disturbed ant pile with rainbow colored ants. Now put yourself in the pile. That is what it felt like to be within the crowds of people. The entire center of town was draped in tarps and filled with food, artesanias, crops, and live animals. The vendors are true descendents of the Maya. They spoke Quiche and adorned the colorfully woven dresses that we had recently learned about in the Museum in Guatemala City. Various traditions were carried out in front of the cathedral and the sights, sounds, and smells of the entire afternoon will not be forgotten.

If there was ever an instance on the trip in which I had hoped I could share the experience with everyone I know, this was it. The invoked feelings can not be conveyed by picture, postcard, or blog. One can simply not have this experience without visiting Chichi on a Thursday or Sunday.

In the early evening I discovered a new favorite food. I ordered what I thought was a tamale from a street stand but was quickly given a lesson in indigenous dining by the chef. I devoured 3 hot Chuchitos and a few tacos dorados. I felt right at home sitting on the undersized plastic stool (which i nearly broke) eationg among the Mayan citizens. It is a heart-warming feeling to share similar physical features of the people around me while at the same time being at least a 1/2 foot bigger than everyone.

Our small hotel provided us with amazing views overlooking the town cemetary and the surrounding hills. We sat on top of the roof sunbathing and using up the rest of our Guatemalan cell-phone minutes. Inactivity can be amazingly fulfilling in the appropriate environment.

Lastly, if I hear another rooster crow at 5am in the morning I may just take my pocket knife and hunt for breakfast. There must have been 100 roosters in the vicinity of our hotel. Combined with constant barking of the 100 or so stray dogs in the same area, a cacophonous symphony took place in the early morning. The ruckus can not be conveyed in words. It would have been a great opportunity to gather a sound-bite, but instead I was smothering my ears with my pillow.

From Chichi we headed to the motherland, the place of our ancestors, the birthplace of Tequila, and the birthplace of Salma Hayek: MEXICO.

Panajachel, Guatemala

We got tattoos. However, they are of henna and of a temporary nature. Upon arrival in Panajachel, the morning after my Batman experience, Max and I went straight to shopping along the vendor lined streets of Panajachel. Within 5 minutes we were sitting down to get inked up. I was surprised to find the exact design that I have contemplated putting on my body for a few years now. Although the artist didn´t free-hand the piece to perfection, it came out decently representative of what I might actually get. I am 25% sure I will get the real one sometime during my life - either over the next 3 years or as part of my mid-life crisis. Suggestions are welcome.

The town of Panajachel is located along the banks of Lake Atitlan. It is set among rolling hills and mountains. The water has mirror-like qualities and the bright sun among the blue sky helps to complete the masterpiece. The draw of this place is certainly its natural beauty.

With that being said, there is very little else to do in the place besides being awed by the views and shopping the streets. We filled our day by doing both.

At night we ate a lake side dinner and then departed for drinks.

The highlight of the stop was the conversation Max and I began on the street and finished over a few Cuba Libres in the local bar. We are part of a family that, in it´s history, is not that much different than the kinds of families we have encountered along our journey. I´m not sure if it was the beauty of Panajachel or the lack of activities, but we took the opportunity that night to recognize how fortunate we were to be in that very position. We talked of our parents´youth and their struggle. Due to their hardwork we were in a place undiscovered by any other Garcia before us.

After a few cigars of an embargoed nature we headed to sleep for an early rise the next day.

The "Dark Knight" in Guatemala City

Still puzzled as to our lack of productivity in Antigua, Max and I backtracked to Guatemala City on a Friday in order to reunite with my family. We had hopes of heading to their beach house on the coast. Unfortunately, inclement weather forced us to stay inland. The result: we would depart for Panajachel on Lake Atitlan in the morning. However, the "knight" was not lost.

A quick glance in the local paper revealed the sweet information that the new Batman was playing in an IMAX theatre around the corner. The following post will now, from this point, proceed in form as a short movie review fused with my normal travel blog. (I have been writing about travelling for 35 days and needed a reprieve.)



"Its not about the money. Its about sending a message"

I was appalled by the action and grew angrier by the second. Unable to bear the blatant lack of disrespect I tapped the middle aged man on the shoulder and in broken Spanish let him know that the line for entry into "Batman: The Dark Knight" started 40 people behind us. He was shocked and angered at my audacity yet reaffirmed his self-entitlement to the front of the line by refusing to adhere to my implication. In line for the IMAX movie, in the most affluent part of the country of Guatemala, I stood pondering the deeper meaning of his action. After the movie, I would have a theory.


"The Dark Knight" is a cinematic success. It is so filled with entertaining and substantive content that it could, and arguably should, have been made into two great movies. I entered the theatre a critic who hated the most recently released version of Batman. Yet, the director redeems himself in creating a follow-up film that, beyond the super-hero surface, instills a strong message.

The strength of the movie is derived from its actors, dynamic characters, and lasting images/scenes. Really, this trinity must be discussed concomittantly. Elaboration on the most dominant performance, specifically for purposes of this blog, is sufficient to make the point.

Heath Ledger is, so early in the year, deserving of a best-supporting actor nomination for his role as the Joker. The Joker has always been a multi-faceted character exuding both a humor and terror, but Leger elevates these bare descriptions to create the best villian I have ever seen on film. The splattered and dripping clown make-up, the scarred mouth, and the flacid-armed strut convey a fear-of-the-unknown in the viewer. When the voice and laugh is added to the image the demon is completed. With a better-than-mediocre script Ledger then uses the already provoked feelings to magnify incredible scenes. The pencil magic trick, the hospital walk, the police car ecstacy ride, and the fiery money pyramid will forever be ingrained in my mind. Yet, imagery is not all I would remember into the night.

In one of the scenes, the Joker slides down an 10-ft pyramid of mafia-money. Waltzing around his supposed treasure he wittily informs the spectating mobsters that he is now in charge of all crime in Gotham. He douses the entire pile with gasoline and ignites it to create a fiery green volcano. The words that followed should be etched into the hollywood hall-of-quotations. To the dismayed and frightened former crime bosses he says "Its not about the money. Its about sending a message."

In the world of reality my hope is that the message will be something more progressive than terror or death. In fact, it should always be that. However, there is a beauty in watching from afar, and from reality, a character that shuns the greatest social confine of them all - monetary wealth. The Joker applied his no-rules chaotic lifestyle even to the most tempting of all vices. My cousin always says that nearly all men "have a price" - not the Joker.

While on the chicken-buses of Central America I have ridden among some of the most impoverished people of the world. Yet, the people function in a respectful and orderly way, however disorderly the system may seem. Entitlement, power, wealth, and hierarchy are refreshingly absent in these small scenes. I was quickly reminded of the two-sided world we live in by the individual action of the person in line before the movie. His action, derived from an elevated social class, is frequently emblematic of those in a position of wealth. At what price is respect for others and the public good lost? That small act, combined with one of the messages from "The Dark Knight" has left a lasting impression on me.



One should deny ultimate temptations, including false societal norms, in order to be free enough to send a positive message - this is the point I have ironically taken from the villian of the film as I apply it to my environment and ongoing experiences while travelling.

"The Dark Knight" is rated PG-13 for strong violence (Parents strongly cautioned) and is being shown in theatres nationwide.

(insert Joker laugh here)

Antigua, Guatemala

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This post is going to include random information about our experience in Antigua. Pictures will generally not be associated with paragraphs because, well, we don´t have that many photos of the place. We stayed two nights in the touristy town but did not venture out to explore as has been typical of our trip.

I want to briefly make excuses for our lack of exploring Antigua, foremost out of guilt, and secondarily out of a desire to make a statement on tourists.

First excuse: We got a little sick. Second excuse: Antigua has too much of a tourist vibe. Now, one could argue that we are tourists - this is somewhat true. However, we have learned that there are generally two different kinds of travellers on these kinds of adventures. We tend to have a strong affinity for backpackers and a bitter taste for the "part timer." Without going into too much detail, the Part Timer is the kind of person that is overtly a tourist in dress, action, and demeanor. They tend to transport their own culture into the visiting location rather than make a strongly apparent attempt to adapt. Antigua is filled with these sorts. The point is made.

We arrived in Antigua in the early evening of a rainy and dreary day. As the rain neared the level of a downpour we quickly zig-zagged our way through the streets until we came across hostel ¨jungle party.¨ The name says it all. We were greated by a friendly, flirtatious, and flamboyant owner at the door who gave us a quick tour of the lively hostel. He made us aware that it was ladies night at the hostel bar so Max and I then made the decision to stay over. Let me define Ladies Night as it means at hostel Jungle Party: If males adorn the dresses that are hanging over the bar then they basically drink for free. Hence, we have ladies night. Hence, we were in bed by 10pm.

It may have been the rain or maybe the smokey cloud of cigarette smoke that hovered over my top bunk, but I ended up with a slight cold. The whole next day I had a sore throat and felt like I had a good ole traditional American cold. Max felt similar. The body needed rejuventation so most of the day was spent eating, drinking, and relaxing. I read my Legal Writing book and Max left me to get a massage/facial.

One of the best parts of Antigua is the jewelery shopping. The Mayans valued precious stones and jewels just like many people do today. Jade, turquoise, amber, and sea shells all helped to distinguish the higher classes of society. These classes included ball players, priests, kings, etc..In search of a good souvenir, I picked out a beautiful Jaguar Jade necklace and Max bought a large jade cross piece. The stones give us a strong sense of pride in our ancient heritage.

I have one more highlight that deserves mention; I may also may express just how little we did in the town. While walking around we came across two guys pushing a stalled vehicle. Although I was sick and and my body had atrophied over the 30 days travelling, I helped the Guatemantecas push the truck for a few blocks. That marked the second vehicle I pushed on the trip. Truthfully, the picture of me pushing the truck was one of the only pictures we took so I needed to include the story.

We finished up the evening forcing down a few beers - well I did - and discussing the usual world issues with our new Dutch friends. The Dutch phrases "hottie" and "you are beautiful" that Max learned from our first encounter with Dutch women in Panama have definitely been beneficial. With some light political discussion as a nightcap, we headed to bed after a long exhausting day of rest and relaxation.

The next day we would head back to Guatemala City thinking we would be headed to the beach; However, the plans would change.

Guatemala City, Guatemala

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We entered Guatemala, the 6th country of our journey, unshowered, unshaven, and slightly unannounced. The change in our timeline that resulted from the short stopover in El Salvador caused us to be in Guatemala City a bit prematurely. Our intention was to stay with family but I had made little contact with them because of the last-second change of plans. We lingered in an internet cafe for a few hours before finally uniting with my incredibly hospitable family.

So try and follow; We stayed with my mom´s brother´s wife´s cousin´s family. Basically, my amazing aunt in California put us in contact with her close cousin who lives in a beautiful suburb of Guatemala City.

I really hope I did not scare the family initially. Had I used the shower in the last hotel I might have exited more dirty than upon entry. Needless to say, we both needed to shower . Also, I made a futile attempt to grow a beard in order to scare away any gang members in El Salvador; The only thing it accomplished was me being mistaken for max´s father. So after the initial greeting, we headed straight into our guestroom and cleaned up. Hedged, scrubbed, and dressed we all departed for a filling fondue dinner complete with pitchers of gallo beer.

Over the next two days Max and I discovered the many ¨Zonas¨ of ¨Guate.¨ The city is divided into distinct Zonas or districts that help inhabitants to coordinate themselves in the gigantic city. Overall, Guate has been the second best city next to Panama City. I really don´t understand why tourists fear the place. I do understand it has a high crime rate, but Max and I never once felt uneasy.

Our first stops in Zona 13, were two small museums located on a university campus dedicated to the Mayans. The population of Guatemala is half mayan and half latin american; It is refreshing that the country takes pride in both its heritages. The Museo Ixchel was dedicated specifically to the current lives of the Mayan people. Exhibits expressed the importance of ritual and traditions. The displays of the ornate and multi-colored clothing of the indigenous were especially interesting. The second museum displayed artifacts of the Maya, including: pottery, writings, urns, jewelery, and tools. The Mayans used to place a deceased person´s entire body inside a trash can sized urn. I told Max this might be how I want to be stored into eternity. I´m still debating.


Again, like in other cities, Max and I wandered around for hours in hopes that luck would be our tour guide. It worked. We encountered interesting graffiti art and even more interesting people. We were most surprised by the goat herder who decided to lay his flock down to pasture on a street median.

My new legal focus has somehow urged me to take pictures in front of courthouses, so I modeled in front of the Supreme Court of Guatemala. We saw the famous palace in the plaza and eventually found the city´s best mall. The evening steadily approached while we sipped coffe and watched the Guatemantecas go about their everyday lives.

The following morning we plunged ourselves back down into the city to see the large relief map of Guatemala that we had missed the previous day. Maybe we should have thought about it a little bit more before departing. A map can only excite one to a certain level. Regardless, it was a monument type of which I had never seen. We quickly left underwhelmed and hungry.


For lunch we feasted on ¨Pollo Campero,¨ the pride and joy chicken fast-food joint of Guatemala and most of Central America. We would have never considered dining at the establishment if it had not been for us learning some interesting aspects of the company. It is Guatemalan owned and incredibly popular. Also, the company grows its own chickens, packages, transports, cooks, and serves them. Most fast food company purchase supplies or services from outside vendors - this company does not. The food was good was good but the conversations we had, over the greasy lunch, about starting our own similar business was better.

Midday we caught a bus headed straight for the cobble-stone paved town of Antigua. We planned to return to Guate to visit our family´s vacation home on the beach so we did not say offical good-byes.

Santa Ana, El Salvador

Directions: Before reading go to youtube.com. Search¨MS-13¨ and click on some of the videos. You will have viewed the reason that we only spent one day in the country of El Salvador and even decided to bypass the capital. Excuses...Excuses...

Upon leaving Honduras we needed to get to El Salvador. If we were not to spend substantial time in the country, I still wanted to stay one night, see one attraction, eat some pupusas (thats a food by the way...), and get my passport stamped; We would accomplish 3 of the 4.

The shortest route to El Salvador was first through Guatemala. We entered briefly and then walked across the scenic border crossing. We were the only people crossing during this time. The area was basically deserted and those citizens at the border watched us as if we were lost. I knew where we were, but we would soon find out we would have preferred not to be there at all.

We direced ourselves to the second largest city in El Salvador named Santa Ana. Evading the passed-out men in the streets, and the not-so-tempting prostitutes, we found ourselves at a decent hotel.

Upon arrival did we decide not to see the ruins that lay nearby on the very day. However, once we had made that decision we soon found out that the ruins were to be closed on Monday. The ruins were not to be.

Not much occurred over the next few hours. In a scramble to find an ATM that accepted our debit cards, we walked around the city for a good hour and a half.

I bought Max a piece of cake for his birthday and we finished the eevening eating pupusas from the local street vendors (...again, thats a food).

Although there is not much to write about in reference to our one night in El Salvador, I do want to add that I enjoyed not seeing another tourist for the entire day. It was almost as if we had discovered a lost and forgotten city (or country even). In alot of ways, we became an attraction to the Salvadorans.

Lastly, Max´s birthday will be celebrated at a later date. My impeccable precision in trip planning landed us in the worst place possible to celebrate a birthday. In an attempt to make amends, every picture in this post is of him. (Pictures will be posted tomorrow 8-4 due to computer difficulties)

After a day in our 5th country we were headed to Guatemala.