We left Oaxaca on a midnight bus, eating our last Oaxacan tortas and tlayudas (enormous corn tortillas smothered in beans, avocado and quesillo) at a cart in the park where once there was the Feria de Mezcal. Our bus traveled by the highway all the way to Mexico City, arriving to a freezing cold, wet night in the enormous bus terminal around 5-30AM. We walked through a small market to the metro, and caught a train heading to the home of Carlos, our Couchsurfing partner in Mexico City.
Carlos lives on a quiet dead-end street with a gate at the end, in a brightly painted, pre-WW1 house with his parents and sister. As we waited for the family to wake up, Cat and I talked about what we wanted to see and do in Mexico City, starting with visiting the Casa Azul, where Frida Kahlo was born, painted and lived with Diego Rivera. As we talked travel, the doorway to the house opened and Carlos, a tall DF´er in an Ed Hardy T-shirt, stepped out to go for a walk. Our introduction was, ¨Cool, come on in...¨ and we gladly dropped our bags on the floor, before sacking out on the sofas as promised. I woke up three hours later to Catherine astounding Carlos´s mother with her Spanish. I was in no condition to add my own commentary, and groggily attempted to get out of the sofa where I had created my nest.
But all the same, several showers, papaya, yogurt and granola breakfasts, and well-wishing to the family later, Cat and I were off to explore. Our first stop via metro was the Casa Azul, in the former town and current sprawl of Coyoacan (coyote). Our walk through Coyoacan took us through shady neighborhoods with private courtyards on every house, and an overall impression of wealthy people guarding themselves in the friendliest way possible. . . By building walls.
The museum and former residence of Frida was amazing, with her studio, kitchen and bedroom preserved as she lived in them, and artifacts on display including several of her chest braces, decorated as if by a child with autographs, portraits and well-wishing. Another part of her house was devoted to a gallery of her works, which included interesting portraits that were unfinished, as well as a gallery to Diego Rivera, with one of his final paintings, done while he was dying of cancer in Acapulco, inscribed with an epitaph to the deceased Frida that read, Älthough you have been ashes for the past two years, you live on in my heart.¨
A touching end to a stormy relationship.
After the Casa Azul, we debated finding the museum of pre-Colombian artifacts assembled by Diego, but opted out when realizing how far things are from each other. Plus we had the zocalo of Coyoacan to explore, some more market food to purchase, and a bandaid for my foot (stupid huaraches!). In the park the flavor of summer was abundant with highschoolers getting temporary tattoos and a drunken local official attempting to extort bribes from the tattoo artists to continue their clandestine operations. . . Failed, by the way. He was too drunk.
After the park we were both feeling pretty fried so what did we do but go to the Zocalo (official) to witness the ceremony at the end of the day, where easily eighty to a hundred Mexican military do a procession to the center of the park and lower the flag of Mexico from its position, then carry the whole thing out. This was amazing and occupied us for several minutes, after which we went to see the foundations of the ruined Pyramids of Tenochtitlan, the only reminder, besides the wildly canting buildings and cracking edifices of modern-Mexico City, that the entire city was formerly lake Texcoco, site of the city state Tenochtitlan. We walked around the neighborhood of the Zocalo, admiring the many wrecked buildings and reserving a hostal for our final night in Mexico, with a shuttle early early early to the airport on Saturday morning.
Now, we are heading back to the house of Carlos to find out what is his will, to see if he is interested in going out to eat, cook, or something of the sort, and then, who knows... We are dog tired, and sad that we have to cram it all into a few short days.
Best wishes!
Brian and Catherine
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Oaxaca, Mexico. Land of Mole, Huaraches, and fried Grasshoppers
Oaxaca. In 2006, this city, the capital of the state of Oaxaca and the center of trade for the area, was crippled by a conflict that started when teachers, striking for higher wages and educational supplies, were attacked by over 3500 police and army troops. In the days that followed the initial barrage, the teachers were joined by citizens of Oaxaca, frustrated by the corruption of their government and the over-zealousness of the imported troops. What followed was a siege of this beautiful, peaceful-seeming city that culminated in the burning of many buses, the erection of barricades and the throwing of many molotov cocktails. In short, urban warfare.
But now, three years later, the city is calm again and the tourists are here, particularly for the Guelaguetza, a celebration of the cultures of the region that takes place in the amphitheater above town, and that occurs simultaneously as the Mezcal festival, which celebrates the beloved younger, smokier step-sibling of Tequila by providing a cheap way for thousands of people to get ridiculously drunk off of samples of the stuff.
So Catherine and I arrived in Oaxaca, midafternoon, after a dizzying ride through the mountains that left us both cramped and exhausted. We staked out a hostal that provided clean drinking water, and ditched our bags, then walked back to the Zocalo, the central park where we watched little kids play with the favorite toy of Oaxaca, six foot tall plastic bags with famous cartoon characters drawn on them which the kids blow up and bounce into the air. Mingling with these airborn treats were the light up helicopters being sold by vendors, and the effect, coupled with the backdrop of baroque, colonial churches, was fantastically whimsical and reminiscent of a scene in Alice and Wonderland (albeit one that was ommitted).
Walking through Catherine´s old haunts from a year ago, we stopped in at a Comedor selling tlayudas, the enormous bean and cheese filled street snacks that first made Catherine love Mexico (I think), and then we went to visit the feria de mezcal, where we were offered every kind of mescal thus far invented, and tried only a few before realizing we would be getting very drunk if we continued. All parents listening will be happy to know that we did not.
The following day we drifted into the museum of photography, where we looked through photographs from the occupation of Oaxaca by APPO and the battle with the military. It was hard to believe looking at the photographs, that this was the same city only three years later.
Next we stopped at the beautiful botanical garden attached to the former convent of Santo Domingo, which was first home to a massive convent under the Spanish, then home to the Mexican military (until 1996) during which time the walls of the building were used as target practice... And then it almost became an American style shopping mall, but was instead developed into a beautiful, conscientious garden of local flora from throughout Oaxaca. Cat and I listened intently to the Spanish tour, understanding almost all of what was said, and appreciating the incredible variety of plant life of the region.
The festive atmosphere of the day continued throughout the evening as fireworks lit the sky and we ran into two siblings from Israel who were out clubbing. Cat and I weren´t quite up to it and instead went out to a pub where we listened to Cuban love songs sung by a classy group of musicians, and drank micheladas. Today, we woke up to go up the hill to the ruins of Monte Alban, the third most important (in no order really) of the pre-colombian ruins in central america. Monte Alban was the center of Zapotec society influenced by the Teotihuacaños, and rivaling the distant city state of Tikal in size. The ruins span a huge area on top of the highest point in the valley of Oaxaca city, commanding a 360 degree view of all of the fertile volcanic land and the villages where people were extracted in tribute to the priestly class. We hiked up and down pyramids with our Israeli friends, Abad who lives outside of Mexico City and his sister (whose name I cannot recall) are very interesting and cool, and we had a good time talking about traveling, Israel and life in Mexico.
Afterwards we went to the market where catherine used to go to eat with Lydia, and we all ordered some banging food. Then Cat and I walked through the market, trying delicious cheeses and chocolates, and buying some mezcal, mole (three different types!!!) and some secret shoes... hint hint Craig, hope they had a big enough size.
Now we are checking internet while the band of Oaxaca plays Dixie outside (better than Simon and Garfunkel) and we are going to go Salsa dancing tonight before being whisked off via another night bus to Mexico City, where we are staying with cool dude Carlos and his family near the city center. ¡Viva Mexico!
But now, three years later, the city is calm again and the tourists are here, particularly for the Guelaguetza, a celebration of the cultures of the region that takes place in the amphitheater above town, and that occurs simultaneously as the Mezcal festival, which celebrates the beloved younger, smokier step-sibling of Tequila by providing a cheap way for thousands of people to get ridiculously drunk off of samples of the stuff.
So Catherine and I arrived in Oaxaca, midafternoon, after a dizzying ride through the mountains that left us both cramped and exhausted. We staked out a hostal that provided clean drinking water, and ditched our bags, then walked back to the Zocalo, the central park where we watched little kids play with the favorite toy of Oaxaca, six foot tall plastic bags with famous cartoon characters drawn on them which the kids blow up and bounce into the air. Mingling with these airborn treats were the light up helicopters being sold by vendors, and the effect, coupled with the backdrop of baroque, colonial churches, was fantastically whimsical and reminiscent of a scene in Alice and Wonderland (albeit one that was ommitted).
Walking through Catherine´s old haunts from a year ago, we stopped in at a Comedor selling tlayudas, the enormous bean and cheese filled street snacks that first made Catherine love Mexico (I think), and then we went to visit the feria de mezcal, where we were offered every kind of mescal thus far invented, and tried only a few before realizing we would be getting very drunk if we continued. All parents listening will be happy to know that we did not.
The following day we drifted into the museum of photography, where we looked through photographs from the occupation of Oaxaca by APPO and the battle with the military. It was hard to believe looking at the photographs, that this was the same city only three years later.
Next we stopped at the beautiful botanical garden attached to the former convent of Santo Domingo, which was first home to a massive convent under the Spanish, then home to the Mexican military (until 1996) during which time the walls of the building were used as target practice... And then it almost became an American style shopping mall, but was instead developed into a beautiful, conscientious garden of local flora from throughout Oaxaca. Cat and I listened intently to the Spanish tour, understanding almost all of what was said, and appreciating the incredible variety of plant life of the region.
The festive atmosphere of the day continued throughout the evening as fireworks lit the sky and we ran into two siblings from Israel who were out clubbing. Cat and I weren´t quite up to it and instead went out to a pub where we listened to Cuban love songs sung by a classy group of musicians, and drank micheladas. Today, we woke up to go up the hill to the ruins of Monte Alban, the third most important (in no order really) of the pre-colombian ruins in central america. Monte Alban was the center of Zapotec society influenced by the Teotihuacaños, and rivaling the distant city state of Tikal in size. The ruins span a huge area on top of the highest point in the valley of Oaxaca city, commanding a 360 degree view of all of the fertile volcanic land and the villages where people were extracted in tribute to the priestly class. We hiked up and down pyramids with our Israeli friends, Abad who lives outside of Mexico City and his sister (whose name I cannot recall) are very interesting and cool, and we had a good time talking about traveling, Israel and life in Mexico.
Afterwards we went to the market where catherine used to go to eat with Lydia, and we all ordered some banging food. Then Cat and I walked through the market, trying delicious cheeses and chocolates, and buying some mezcal, mole (three different types!!!) and some secret shoes... hint hint Craig, hope they had a big enough size.
Now we are checking internet while the band of Oaxaca plays Dixie outside (better than Simon and Garfunkel) and we are going to go Salsa dancing tonight before being whisked off via another night bus to Mexico City, where we are staying with cool dude Carlos and his family near the city center. ¡Viva Mexico!
Amazing Mazunte to Oaxaca!!! Appo Vive? No se...
Via San Cristobal in an all-night bus with Whoopie Goldberg´s Sister Act playing loudly, we arrived in the morning to Mazunte, sweltering heat, flip flops, sand and surf. Our second attempt at taxis since our trip began was a rip-off, as our driver demanded 150 pesos, waaaaaay more than he deserved, but we arrived all the same at a posada called Balam Juyuk, perched at the high point overlooking Mazunte beach, a cluster of small thatch-roofed cabañas and a banging restaurant officiated by none other than Emiliano, who must be channeling some of the reckless energy of his namesake Zapato, yet providing a more constructive outlet in amazing, if often delayed until 11PM, food.
Cat and I hunkered down in a screened-in building where our first night, I stuck my arm out the mosquito netting and allowed countless bloodthirsty insects into our little haven to devour poor Catherine, who it turns out is deadly allergic to them. I did not make the same mistake the second night...
Mazunte, with its small community of bungaloes and thatch roofs, is actually a boom town. Compared to Cat´s last visit here, the place has grown by leaps and bounds, despite the economic downturn. New places are everywhere, and everyone it seems is offering rooms to let, regardless of what that means. Our stay with Emiliano was great, punctuated by countless games of backgammon, which Catherine promptly learned and mastered (Grrrr...) and many naps in hammocks and days spent reading our books.
We also, surprise surprise, got to swim a good deal in the Pacific Ocean, which is warm and salty, and wonderfully clean. The waves were great for getting thrown around, though not for body surfing, but we survived all the same. We also went to the ¨Jacuzzi,¨ a tidal pool with a slot opening onto the ocean where waves push in with great force, causing the entire pool to bubble and roil, before being sucked back. It was great except for the little fish nibbling my mosquito bites.
Perhaps the most beautiful part of our stay at the beach happened with our last night´s hike out to Punta Cometa, the peninsula arm that shelters the bay of Mazunte from the open ocean. On the point is a giant Saguaro-type cactus with dozens of ten foot tall arms sprouting from its trunk, and high cliffs that you can hike around to see the waves break against the rocks.
The day before my birthday (July 25th, #26 if we are keeping count), we switched digs to an upscale neighbor of Balam Juyuk where we stayed in the lap of luxury, with our own private bathroom, porch and hammock. Not to mention a fan and room that was completely mosquito-proof.
On the last night of our trip we walked out to the point just before dusk, when the light was getting soft and the western horizon began to glow. As we walked towards the point we could see four donkeys that were being grazed on the sheer cliff edges and huge waves breaking over the rocks. We situated ourselves on a slab of granite that was fractured in the middle all the way down to the water, and delighted ourselves with the huge waves that broke occassionally over our little spot, inundating the crabs that stalked the cliff edge and sending them running for cover.
Walking on from our cliff we came to a beach open to the Southwest, where we were able to see the sunset fill the sky, and turn the waves crimson for a few moments before it passed on, and we walked back in darkness. The next morning we packed and left via a colectivo (pickup truck) for Pachutla, from whence we caught a minibus that took us to Oaxaca, the capital of the state, and one of the most interesting cities I have seen.
Cat and I hunkered down in a screened-in building where our first night, I stuck my arm out the mosquito netting and allowed countless bloodthirsty insects into our little haven to devour poor Catherine, who it turns out is deadly allergic to them. I did not make the same mistake the second night...
Mazunte, with its small community of bungaloes and thatch roofs, is actually a boom town. Compared to Cat´s last visit here, the place has grown by leaps and bounds, despite the economic downturn. New places are everywhere, and everyone it seems is offering rooms to let, regardless of what that means. Our stay with Emiliano was great, punctuated by countless games of backgammon, which Catherine promptly learned and mastered (Grrrr...) and many naps in hammocks and days spent reading our books.
We also, surprise surprise, got to swim a good deal in the Pacific Ocean, which is warm and salty, and wonderfully clean. The waves were great for getting thrown around, though not for body surfing, but we survived all the same. We also went to the ¨Jacuzzi,¨ a tidal pool with a slot opening onto the ocean where waves push in with great force, causing the entire pool to bubble and roil, before being sucked back. It was great except for the little fish nibbling my mosquito bites.
Perhaps the most beautiful part of our stay at the beach happened with our last night´s hike out to Punta Cometa, the peninsula arm that shelters the bay of Mazunte from the open ocean. On the point is a giant Saguaro-type cactus with dozens of ten foot tall arms sprouting from its trunk, and high cliffs that you can hike around to see the waves break against the rocks.
The day before my birthday (July 25th, #26 if we are keeping count), we switched digs to an upscale neighbor of Balam Juyuk where we stayed in the lap of luxury, with our own private bathroom, porch and hammock. Not to mention a fan and room that was completely mosquito-proof.
On the last night of our trip we walked out to the point just before dusk, when the light was getting soft and the western horizon began to glow. As we walked towards the point we could see four donkeys that were being grazed on the sheer cliff edges and huge waves breaking over the rocks. We situated ourselves on a slab of granite that was fractured in the middle all the way down to the water, and delighted ourselves with the huge waves that broke occassionally over our little spot, inundating the crabs that stalked the cliff edge and sending them running for cover.
Walking on from our cliff we came to a beach open to the Southwest, where we were able to see the sunset fill the sky, and turn the waves crimson for a few moments before it passed on, and we walked back in darkness. The next morning we packed and left via a colectivo (pickup truck) for Pachutla, from whence we caught a minibus that took us to Oaxaca, the capital of the state, and one of the most interesting cities I have seen.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
San Cristobal de las Casas
Knocking at the door was our friendly, Chapin driver for the first part of our eight hour journey to San Cristobal de las Casas... It is amazing how eight hours can fly by though, when you are traveling through some of the most beautiful country in the world and you dont have to worry about being the driver and avoiding a) runaway horses and cows, b) chicken buses, and c) steamrollers being loaded into dump trucks. This is of course, among many other roadside hazards that are standard fare on the journey... The hardest part about the trip was the gnawing emptiness inside our taut bellies. It was like forced starvation, we had used all our Quetzales the night before and were hoofing it to Mexico for our next meal.
The border crossing was an experience that was standard, easy, and seemed legitimate. The customs agents at both sides stamped visas for us without blinking, and we were happy to be on our way, guided by bus operators who were efficient and thorough. The landscape changed rapidly when we crossed the border, from steep jagged cliffs covered in lush greenery and a patchwork of small family farms, to massive fields of maize and lowland ranches, overgrazed by fat cattle. . . Just a little bit closer to the good old, US of A. Our minibus began to climb into evergreen forests that looked suspiciously like tree plantations, passing large military bases (like summer camp for soldados!) that were surrounded by bales of concertina wire. Militarization of Chiapas is ubiquitous as they have been fighting a dirty war between the Zapatistas and the government over what was initially a land grab by corrupt bureaucrats against indigenous people, but turned into a revolutionary movement among the indigenous that continues to this day. The landscape became more lush and the air (we guessed, in our AC'ed van) cooler.
About three in the afternoon we pulled into the crossroads for San Cristobal de las Casas, turning onto a narrow cobblestoned roadway that led straight as an arrow towards the park in the center of town, known here as a Zocalo. San Cris presents as a better kept, more lively version of Antigua Guatemala, with people visiting town for the weekend from all over the country, many Europeans, and lots of food to choose from. We walked to a hostal called Posada Mexico, where we were shown to our private room on top of a hill. Spotless rooms and a springy (as in, all springs and no padding) mattress were a welcome sight after eight hours in the bus, and we soon were off to dinner at a place recommended by Sally, Madre Tierra, where Cat got the most interesting crepes ever, filled with an incredibly rich fungus that grows on corn and tastes like heaven... Not to mention the fantastic loaf of whole wheat bread that came with dinner, which we devoured. After dinner we wandered the crowded festive streets, Cat bought some slippers that brought up memories of knit goods from her great-grandmother, and then to Revolucion! for some banging, live reggae music, and two micheladas, aka beers with chili and lime. Mexico really knows how to throw down; In comparison, Guatemala seems like its people are still being oppressed, and there is not the same festive pride that we found in Mexico. . . People here know how to boogy.
We walked around a while, looking at food we were not hungry for (shockingly) and making it back late to the cabaña, where I (-1 for Brian) managed to lock us out of our room, although we had the key... Long story but it ended when the new guy who kept saying, "This is my first day" and the experienced manager made an executive decision NOT to call the boss at 130 am, and instead helped to completely remove the window from our wall. So late though it was, we went to bed happy to be in Mexico, ready for another day of exploring the beautiful city of San Cristobal.
The border crossing was an experience that was standard, easy, and seemed legitimate. The customs agents at both sides stamped visas for us without blinking, and we were happy to be on our way, guided by bus operators who were efficient and thorough. The landscape changed rapidly when we crossed the border, from steep jagged cliffs covered in lush greenery and a patchwork of small family farms, to massive fields of maize and lowland ranches, overgrazed by fat cattle. . . Just a little bit closer to the good old, US of A. Our minibus began to climb into evergreen forests that looked suspiciously like tree plantations, passing large military bases (like summer camp for soldados!) that were surrounded by bales of concertina wire. Militarization of Chiapas is ubiquitous as they have been fighting a dirty war between the Zapatistas and the government over what was initially a land grab by corrupt bureaucrats against indigenous people, but turned into a revolutionary movement among the indigenous that continues to this day. The landscape became more lush and the air (we guessed, in our AC'ed van) cooler.
About three in the afternoon we pulled into the crossroads for San Cristobal de las Casas, turning onto a narrow cobblestoned roadway that led straight as an arrow towards the park in the center of town, known here as a Zocalo. San Cris presents as a better kept, more lively version of Antigua Guatemala, with people visiting town for the weekend from all over the country, many Europeans, and lots of food to choose from. We walked to a hostal called Posada Mexico, where we were shown to our private room on top of a hill. Spotless rooms and a springy (as in, all springs and no padding) mattress were a welcome sight after eight hours in the bus, and we soon were off to dinner at a place recommended by Sally, Madre Tierra, where Cat got the most interesting crepes ever, filled with an incredibly rich fungus that grows on corn and tastes like heaven... Not to mention the fantastic loaf of whole wheat bread that came with dinner, which we devoured. After dinner we wandered the crowded festive streets, Cat bought some slippers that brought up memories of knit goods from her great-grandmother, and then to Revolucion! for some banging, live reggae music, and two micheladas, aka beers with chili and lime. Mexico really knows how to throw down; In comparison, Guatemala seems like its people are still being oppressed, and there is not the same festive pride that we found in Mexico. . . People here know how to boogy.
We walked around a while, looking at food we were not hungry for (shockingly) and making it back late to the cabaña, where I (-1 for Brian) managed to lock us out of our room, although we had the key... Long story but it ended when the new guy who kept saying, "This is my first day" and the experienced manager made an executive decision NOT to call the boss at 130 am, and instead helped to completely remove the window from our wall. So late though it was, we went to bed happy to be in Mexico, ready for another day of exploring the beautiful city of San Cristobal.
Some more about Xela, redundantly wonderful
On Friday we left the Escuela de la Montaña and headed to Xela where we were going to meet up with our friend Amy. After finding her posada, we knocked on the almost unmarked door and were greeted by friendly, ten year old Ikea who told us that Amy had stepped out. Walking away a little bit dejected, we stopped to look at the map to see what crummy hostel we were going to stay in for the night and lo and behold! Amy arrived with a (hey lovebirds!) for us (sorry, quote key broken) and we had a place to stay. The posada is in its third or fourth iteration, first as a stable, then a school, then various uses interspersed with earthquakes which have forever altered its personality- walls end halfway up, or start where they shouldnt, etc... All the same, an awesome place to stay and Amy has a fantastic room with a nice view of the courtyard.
We took Amy out for indian food (!!!) at Sabor de la India, a restaurant at the hilly end of the square, located on a dead end. We sat in the dining room at an enormous table, wondering what Indian would be like in Guatemala. . . Turns out, pretty different from Indian in the USA. Cat ordered palak paneer, a classic that should be pretty straightforward, but came lightly steamed with a spicy, ginger sauce. I ordered and loved my chicken tikka marsala, with thick rich sauce and special cashew rice in yogurt. It was Amy whose meal took the cake as the most bizarre, with Koshka ball curry (or something like that) which gave her the opportunity to develop her language skills by asking (What is in this!).
Awakened early to the alarm clock, Amy going to meet up with friends and climb a volcano picking up trash. . . Got up, made some coffee, realized the kitchen and pila, or outside sink, were super skunky, full of dirty dishes and stagnant, putrid water, and sat down to wait for our shuttle to Mexico, booked the night before at the Black Cat Hostel... We were sitting down at the sofa in the courtyard when we heard the pathetic mewling of a little cat, which had fallen off the roof and was terrified to find that it was lost... It was very sad; the cats parents were up on the roof but we could not reach up to get the cat back to them, much less find the cat, once we let go of it... It ran away and hid under the sofa. Brian decided to take on the filthy Pila and spent a half hour plunging it with the toilet plunger, after which we filled it with clean water, and left feeling heroic, for our minibus...
We took Amy out for indian food (!!!) at Sabor de la India, a restaurant at the hilly end of the square, located on a dead end. We sat in the dining room at an enormous table, wondering what Indian would be like in Guatemala. . . Turns out, pretty different from Indian in the USA. Cat ordered palak paneer, a classic that should be pretty straightforward, but came lightly steamed with a spicy, ginger sauce. I ordered and loved my chicken tikka marsala, with thick rich sauce and special cashew rice in yogurt. It was Amy whose meal took the cake as the most bizarre, with Koshka ball curry (or something like that) which gave her the opportunity to develop her language skills by asking (What is in this!).
Awakened early to the alarm clock, Amy going to meet up with friends and climb a volcano picking up trash. . . Got up, made some coffee, realized the kitchen and pila, or outside sink, were super skunky, full of dirty dishes and stagnant, putrid water, and sat down to wait for our shuttle to Mexico, booked the night before at the Black Cat Hostel... We were sitting down at the sofa in the courtyard when we heard the pathetic mewling of a little cat, which had fallen off the roof and was terrified to find that it was lost... It was very sad; the cats parents were up on the roof but we could not reach up to get the cat back to them, much less find the cat, once we let go of it... It ran away and hid under the sofa. Brian decided to take on the filthy Pila and spent a half hour plunging it with the toilet plunger, after which we filled it with clean water, and left feeling heroic, for our minibus...
Mira! Fotos!
Catherine and our newfound friend Amy in Antigua Guatemala
Catherine at San Jorge La Laguna, where we stayed with the Ramos Family.
Catherine at San Jorge La Laguna, where we stayed with the Ramos Family.A candid photo of 2 men in Xela... one of our favorites!
A fun Friday night at La Escuela de la Montaña...
The PLQ Graduation, making kites (just before eating pizza)
Brian with teachers Eunice and Abbi
Brian with teachers Eunice and AbbiFriday, July 17, 2009
On the road again...
Well, our time at the mountain school has come to a close... for now. We "graduated" today with lots of fanfare... Brian made 4 pizzas to share (which was really quite a feat considering what we had to go through to find yeast and mozzerella, not to mention the walk down the road to use a stove in one of the neighboring communities). We also made kites from sticks and plastic bags and Brian and I sung a rousing acapella rendition of "If I had a hammer" translated into Spanish by yours truly, which went over quite well, I must say. We said our goodbyes and promised to come back and jumped on the chicken bus for Xela, narrowly missing getting run over by some stray cows. We're staying here with our new and dear friend, Amy, with whom we just ate Indian food, which, while delicious, was not quite what we were expecting in all cases... Brian and I hop on a Minibus for San Cristobal de las Casas tomorrow, what will likely be an 8-9 hour journey across the border and up into Chiapas. We're super-stoked about hanging in Mexico, most especially about eating there, and we're just all-around happy to be venturing on, although it was great studying spanish and we'll miss the family atmosphere of the mountain school...
Love,
Cat and Brian
Love,
Cat and Brian
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
near the end of our stay at the escuela de las montanas
We are approaching the end of our studies at Escuela de las Montañas, and Cat and I are waiting a few more minutes before going over to the stadium where the Telethon for disabled kids is taking place and where we are going to be playing another legendary game of Futbol with the Jefe, Abileno, and some other folks from town, as well as our teachers Abbi, Eunice and Tito.
The people we have met at the school have been overwhelmingly decent and cool, although the crowd this week is significantly younger than last week and has a different vibe, which I will not attempt to categorize at the risk of being unfair to people from California. At any rate, we are learning a good deal, Cat has approached and surpassed survival spanish, and I am slowly learning to use the preterito and so on. . . At any rate, we are planning on leaving the mountain school on Friday night for Xela (pronounced shayla) and are going to be heading up to Mexico to stay a few days in San Cristobal de las Casas, despues de que vamos a Mazunte, a beach town that is also the farthest west you can go in Mexico, after which we will be going to Oaxaca, where Cat is working out homestays, so to speak, with local people. We have a lot of travel ahead of us but what a great time to see this country.
As I write we are coming to the end of three days of almost rainless weather in Guatemala, a rarity for this part of the world at this particular time of year. Cat went this morning to the abandoned finca known as the Finca de los guerillas, where she was able to get some amazing photos of the old house of the Dueño, something that seems right out of a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel, and then saw the volcano Santa Anita erupting. I stayed and studied, and my only experience of the volcano was the ash falling on me in my little thatch roofed hut.
At any rate, we are about to go over and play soccer, and wish you all the best back home!
Love from Brian and Catherine
The people we have met at the school have been overwhelmingly decent and cool, although the crowd this week is significantly younger than last week and has a different vibe, which I will not attempt to categorize at the risk of being unfair to people from California. At any rate, we are learning a good deal, Cat has approached and surpassed survival spanish, and I am slowly learning to use the preterito and so on. . . At any rate, we are planning on leaving the mountain school on Friday night for Xela (pronounced shayla) and are going to be heading up to Mexico to stay a few days in San Cristobal de las Casas, despues de que vamos a Mazunte, a beach town that is also the farthest west you can go in Mexico, after which we will be going to Oaxaca, where Cat is working out homestays, so to speak, with local people. We have a lot of travel ahead of us but what a great time to see this country.
As I write we are coming to the end of three days of almost rainless weather in Guatemala, a rarity for this part of the world at this particular time of year. Cat went this morning to the abandoned finca known as the Finca de los guerillas, where she was able to get some amazing photos of the old house of the Dueño, something that seems right out of a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel, and then saw the volcano Santa Anita erupting. I stayed and studied, and my only experience of the volcano was the ash falling on me in my little thatch roofed hut.
At any rate, we are about to go over and play soccer, and wish you all the best back home!
Love from Brian and Catherine
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Escuela De Los Montanas (2)
Our first week of classes is over and we are traveling the country again, bound for the hotsprings of Fuentas Georginas outside the town of Xunil. The sun is beating down outside the internet cafe where Cat and I are updating the blog, after eating a sandwich and soup at a popular spot called Salon Tecun in an old mostly abandoned building in downtown Xela.
We had a great time this week at Escuela de las Montanas, eating dinner with our host families and reading books to their kids. We also made some friends in the school, including Tony, who´s been there for several weeks, a group of girls from the bay area who are traveling through central America, and of course our teachers. Brian went and played soccer with the teachers on Wednesday night and is still achy and stumbling around today. After a traveling pízza salesman came to the door on Thursday and Brian declined to purchase a pizza against his better instincts, Cat sprang a big surprise by working out a pizza delivery from una vecina de su maestra (a neighbor of her teacher) who cooked a pizza, half meaty and half veggie, and had it ready to go in the morning on Thursday. Buen Onda for sure.
So now we´re in the little hamlet (not so little really) of Xela, where Brian ended his trip last year, and besides Cat´s having gotten some indegestion (probably from a TVP empanada at Brian´s family´s house) we´re doing okay and hoping to meet up with some folks tomorrow in town.
Hope all is well back Stateside, and ciao for now!
Brian and Catherine
We had a great time this week at Escuela de las Montanas, eating dinner with our host families and reading books to their kids. We also made some friends in the school, including Tony, who´s been there for several weeks, a group of girls from the bay area who are traveling through central America, and of course our teachers. Brian went and played soccer with the teachers on Wednesday night and is still achy and stumbling around today. After a traveling pízza salesman came to the door on Thursday and Brian declined to purchase a pizza against his better instincts, Cat sprang a big surprise by working out a pizza delivery from una vecina de su maestra (a neighbor of her teacher) who cooked a pizza, half meaty and half veggie, and had it ready to go in the morning on Thursday. Buen Onda for sure.
So now we´re in the little hamlet (not so little really) of Xela, where Brian ended his trip last year, and besides Cat´s having gotten some indegestion (probably from a TVP empanada at Brian´s family´s house) we´re doing okay and hoping to meet up with some folks tomorrow in town.
Hope all is well back Stateside, and ciao for now!
Brian and Catherine
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Escuela de la Montana
We left you after our fourth of July, which we spent ignorant of the important celebrations going on in the USA until the day was almost over. From San Marcos Atitlan, we traveled in a Lancha to the town of San Pedro, where the street festival was almost all packed up and put away, and where the people seemed tired and strung out from the weekend of partying and eating pizza.
We ran into the capitan of our lancha from the previous day, who helped us to find the bus stop for the camioneta that would take us up to the ¨ruta principal¨or pan-American highway (CA1) where we could change to a camioneta to Xela. As we sat on the corner with a large group of people, a very sincere boy of about 12 years old approached us. ¨Are you waiting for the bus to Xela?¨he asked. We told him yes. ¨There aren´t any buses today, because of the fiesta.¨He pointed sadly at the tents strung up in the street. ¨You will have to take a truck, but luckily, I know one you can take.¨ How much will that cost? Only 400 Quetzales... Approximately 50 times more expensive than the Camioneta for the two of us.
We told him ¨NO gracias,¨and he said in essence, ¨suit yourselves.¨ Less than a minute later, we heard the telltale roaring of an old Bluebird bus from Cincinatti Ohio, and roaring into sight around the corner, belching fumes and blaring its horn, rolled the Camioneta to the Ruta Principal.
We left without a backwards glance.
We navigated two transfers, to another camioneta on the Ruta Principal, and then a camioneta in Xela´s hectic Minerva bus terminal, that to our mutually experienced eyes seemed a place of peace and calm in contrast to past experiences. Leaving Xela we climbed through hill country with incredibly lush landscapes overflowing with green, the shining leaves of coffee plants reaching over the roads, and the mud and tin huts of the campesinos huddled along narrow paths uncertainly. We got off after descending into cloud forest, and Catherine walked the remembered path down to the mountain school, where we had missed the tour but not dinner. After dropping our bags we were whisked off downhill to the towns of Fatima and Nuevo San Jose, both formed by former Finca workers who had struggled for the right to receive wages and have access to medical care, and who had been denied their rights for years. This is the story of many of the Fincas of Guatemala, where the barest minimum of protection for the people who work there is tantamount to rebellion, and where the Dueños (bosses of the Fincas) hire thugs to burn houses, shoot out the windows, and blacklist workers who organize.
Catherine is staying with the family of Lizbet in the town of Fatima, while I am staying with Irma and Casinto in the town of Nuevo San Jose. Dinner was sopa de pollo, and I talked with Casinto who was up at three in the morning to catch the first Camioneta into San Juan, the nearby town where itinerant day laborers such as himself go in search of work.
In the evening we met up at the school for a history of Guatemala, leading to the present and touching on the events in Guatemala city where camioneta drivers are being murdered in an effort to terrorize the population and attack the transportation system. It seems that the attacks (supposedly because drivers are not paying the mafia fees that are being demanded) are an effort by the military and its paramilitary arms to reassert itself in the face of threats to its massive budget, and they have been effective, as evidenced by the fact that the budget was since restored and increased, and new military bases opened. At the same time, the right wing of Honduras has orchestrated the coup against their moderate president, and it´s up in the air whether this will work or not. If the coup is successful, the president of Guatemala, Alberto Colom, may risk the same assault on his own presidency from the right within Guatemala, whereas if the coup is unsuccessful and the orchestrators discredited, the presidency of Colom may survive to the end of his term. Scary stuff, but very interesting.
We have now been at Escuela de la Montaña for three days of classes, and are learning lots. This is clear because I clearly need a lot of help, and Cat´s blazing through the spanish and rocking and rolling. We are now about to get booted from the internet here and sadly the photos aren´t working again!
As soon as we get a reliable source of internet we´ll get some pics up.
Love,
Brian and Catherine
We ran into the capitan of our lancha from the previous day, who helped us to find the bus stop for the camioneta that would take us up to the ¨ruta principal¨or pan-American highway (CA1) where we could change to a camioneta to Xela. As we sat on the corner with a large group of people, a very sincere boy of about 12 years old approached us. ¨Are you waiting for the bus to Xela?¨he asked. We told him yes. ¨There aren´t any buses today, because of the fiesta.¨He pointed sadly at the tents strung up in the street. ¨You will have to take a truck, but luckily, I know one you can take.¨ How much will that cost? Only 400 Quetzales... Approximately 50 times more expensive than the Camioneta for the two of us.
We told him ¨NO gracias,¨and he said in essence, ¨suit yourselves.¨ Less than a minute later, we heard the telltale roaring of an old Bluebird bus from Cincinatti Ohio, and roaring into sight around the corner, belching fumes and blaring its horn, rolled the Camioneta to the Ruta Principal.
We left without a backwards glance.
We navigated two transfers, to another camioneta on the Ruta Principal, and then a camioneta in Xela´s hectic Minerva bus terminal, that to our mutually experienced eyes seemed a place of peace and calm in contrast to past experiences. Leaving Xela we climbed through hill country with incredibly lush landscapes overflowing with green, the shining leaves of coffee plants reaching over the roads, and the mud and tin huts of the campesinos huddled along narrow paths uncertainly. We got off after descending into cloud forest, and Catherine walked the remembered path down to the mountain school, where we had missed the tour but not dinner. After dropping our bags we were whisked off downhill to the towns of Fatima and Nuevo San Jose, both formed by former Finca workers who had struggled for the right to receive wages and have access to medical care, and who had been denied their rights for years. This is the story of many of the Fincas of Guatemala, where the barest minimum of protection for the people who work there is tantamount to rebellion, and where the Dueños (bosses of the Fincas) hire thugs to burn houses, shoot out the windows, and blacklist workers who organize.
Catherine is staying with the family of Lizbet in the town of Fatima, while I am staying with Irma and Casinto in the town of Nuevo San Jose. Dinner was sopa de pollo, and I talked with Casinto who was up at three in the morning to catch the first Camioneta into San Juan, the nearby town where itinerant day laborers such as himself go in search of work.
In the evening we met up at the school for a history of Guatemala, leading to the present and touching on the events in Guatemala city where camioneta drivers are being murdered in an effort to terrorize the population and attack the transportation system. It seems that the attacks (supposedly because drivers are not paying the mafia fees that are being demanded) are an effort by the military and its paramilitary arms to reassert itself in the face of threats to its massive budget, and they have been effective, as evidenced by the fact that the budget was since restored and increased, and new military bases opened. At the same time, the right wing of Honduras has orchestrated the coup against their moderate president, and it´s up in the air whether this will work or not. If the coup is successful, the president of Guatemala, Alberto Colom, may risk the same assault on his own presidency from the right within Guatemala, whereas if the coup is unsuccessful and the orchestrators discredited, the presidency of Colom may survive to the end of his term. Scary stuff, but very interesting.
We have now been at Escuela de la Montaña for three days of classes, and are learning lots. This is clear because I clearly need a lot of help, and Cat´s blazing through the spanish and rocking and rolling. We are now about to get booted from the internet here and sadly the photos aren´t working again!
As soon as we get a reliable source of internet we´ll get some pics up.
Love,
Brian and Catherine
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Feliz Cuatro de Julio
Our fourth of July dawned clear and cold in the double bed that Cat and I shared in San Jorge La Laguna. We were with the Ramos family again, spending time with them as they went about their daily business. The boys Pedrito and Danny are both a little bigger than last year but essentially unchanged, while Juan (dad) has been out of work since April and doing repairs around the house to keep himself occupied. Carmela still has her business exporting jewelry to the United States, with her benefactor Sharon. Maria, their youngest daughter, was crowned Queen of San Jorge in a ceremony where she was quizzed on how she would improve the lives of Mayan women and end domestic violence. She spoke passionately about her thoughts on this subject while teaching Cat to make Tortillas on the ultra efficient stove the family uses.
In true USA fashion we spent the fourth of July at the beach, sunning on a broken off dock and swimming in the murky shallows. It was a beautiful but hot day, and Cat and I forgot our sunscreen (my bad!) and had to walk back up the hill, probably about a half mile up a 30 degree slope, then return down. We had a siesta while the family cooked, guacamole, rice with vegetables for Cat, and carne asada for the rest of us !!!
We said our goodbyes, to the family, to the kids, to the town, and walked back up to the house where we packed our things and hitched a ride into Pana on a Camioneta.
The evening of the fourth we spent in San Marcos, arriving via a private Lancha as the sun set over the volcanoes, bringing to an end a beautiful day. San Marcos is a new age heaven (or whatever), with pyramids for meditation, veggie palaces for food and lots of expensive opportunities to spend spend spend. We went to a ¨budget¨place called the enchanted garden, and it was excellent, with hot hot shower and a rainforest in the yard. For dinner we followed the sounds of spirit songs through the darkness, under heavy palm fronds, to an italian place where we listened to the ¨healing¨music of a woman and her harp. A nice dinner of pasta by a real italian guy, plus a bottle of red wine, summed up our day. We passed out at home, unable to even brush our teeth before bed.
This morning dawned gray and cool, but the clouds quickly burned off as we went to breakfast at a place made of recycled bottles and bedecked with tropical plants. Cat´s granola yogurt and fruit towered over my moroccan eggs with bacon (!) and we sat under the flowering butterfly bushes while tropical hummingbirds buzzed around our ears.
Off via lancha once again to San Pedro la laguna, where we will be catching a direct bus to Xela, from whence we go to the school in the mountains out of Colomba, Guatemala, to spend two weeks learning Spanish. Cat´s goals are to learn different tenses, increase her fluency and processing, mine are to learn the past tense and future tense and increase my verb bank...
So far so good! Que tenga buen dia!
Con abrazos!!!
Brian y Catarina
In true USA fashion we spent the fourth of July at the beach, sunning on a broken off dock and swimming in the murky shallows. It was a beautiful but hot day, and Cat and I forgot our sunscreen (my bad!) and had to walk back up the hill, probably about a half mile up a 30 degree slope, then return down. We had a siesta while the family cooked, guacamole, rice with vegetables for Cat, and carne asada for the rest of us !!!
We said our goodbyes, to the family, to the kids, to the town, and walked back up to the house where we packed our things and hitched a ride into Pana on a Camioneta.
The evening of the fourth we spent in San Marcos, arriving via a private Lancha as the sun set over the volcanoes, bringing to an end a beautiful day. San Marcos is a new age heaven (or whatever), with pyramids for meditation, veggie palaces for food and lots of expensive opportunities to spend spend spend. We went to a ¨budget¨place called the enchanted garden, and it was excellent, with hot hot shower and a rainforest in the yard. For dinner we followed the sounds of spirit songs through the darkness, under heavy palm fronds, to an italian place where we listened to the ¨healing¨music of a woman and her harp. A nice dinner of pasta by a real italian guy, plus a bottle of red wine, summed up our day. We passed out at home, unable to even brush our teeth before bed.
This morning dawned gray and cool, but the clouds quickly burned off as we went to breakfast at a place made of recycled bottles and bedecked with tropical plants. Cat´s granola yogurt and fruit towered over my moroccan eggs with bacon (!) and we sat under the flowering butterfly bushes while tropical hummingbirds buzzed around our ears.
Off via lancha once again to San Pedro la laguna, where we will be catching a direct bus to Xela, from whence we go to the school in the mountains out of Colomba, Guatemala, to spend two weeks learning Spanish. Cat´s goals are to learn different tenses, increase her fluency and processing, mine are to learn the past tense and future tense and increase my verb bank...
So far so good! Que tenga buen dia!
Con abrazos!!!
Brian y Catarina
Thursday, July 2, 2009
mira los fotos, jk
Just kidding! The internet sucks in this town... sorry about this. Maybe tomorrow.
Day 2
This morning, after sleeping like babies for 10 hours, Brian and I were awakened by a cute little voice saying, ¨Hey lovebirds¨... it sounded like a dream. Brian was our awesome tourguide of Antigua and then we made our way to the camionetas... or chicken buses. The bus rides were pretty comfortable, and we made some friends. One recent deportee who had been living in St. Paul, MN was on his way home and on the next bus to San Pedro la Laguna we met a very cute and friendly senora with her chicken. The road turned into severe switchbacks as we approached the lake, which came into view, along with all of the cute pueblas along its shores. We wandered around San Pedro for a hot minute until being generously guided to the hotel we were interested in by a very nice gentleman who ended up receiving a nice little finders fee. We are overlooking the lake, although we should be able to see more of it when the sun comes out. For now we have a great view of the crazy carnival down the hill.... carnies are carnies... the rides look a little patched together. See our photos....
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Drinks on the plane
Last night, after seeing off all of our wonderful friends and packing frenetically until 2AM, Cat and I got to sleep for two hours, dozing off until the alarms rang at 4:30 and we called a car service to take us to JFK... Oops, La Guardia; same thing. Waiting in line for security we met our first travel companion, Amy, a social worker who is going to be working at a shelter for women and children in Xela (Quetzaltenango) and who made me feel downright embarrassed about having gotten all bent out of shape over the lack of a computer. She doesn't have cellphone or anything, and is going without any knowledge of Spanish, a deficit that she was nonplussed by.
Our first flight out we zonked out right away and stayed asleep until the plane came into Fort Lauderdale. Waiting at the crowded gate we ran into Amy again, who borrowed Cat's phone to call her girlfriend, and then sat awhile and talked with us as we learned that our plane had been delayed, first for an hour, then a little more.
On the plane, first sat next to a hawaiian shirt-clad missionary who seemed nondescript, then he moved and we were sitting next to, or rather, Cat was sitting in the shadow of, an enormous man in safari clothes, cowboy hat and glasses, who did nothing for some time.
We both went to sleep, and when I woke, the man had struck up a conversation of sorts with Cat, where he was trying to get her to pay for sodas with her credit card because he only had cash. This led to him offering us - peer pressure peer pressure peer pressure! - copious amounts of vodka from his duty free bag (I didn't know you were supposed to open it in-flight) and as he got drunker and drunker, the stories began to blend, from biting criticisms of the bombastic Americans traveling abroad, to bemoaning the state of public education, to the logical conclusion, flashbacks to Vietnam, which he illustrated shockingly by thwapping Cat in the forehead with his finger, saying, "You feel things brushing by your head, and you realize they're bullets, and a fraction of an inch either way and it would have been you dead..."
And so we stumbled off the plane into Guatemala, which our collective parents must LOVE to hear about, but we were okay, and walked safely and with a stunning display of linearity towards the ATM. All of our bags made it intact, we met up again with Amy, and a fellow traveler Jessie (-ca?) and shared a cab to Antigua, where I was able to recall the location (Okay, the Lonely Planet guidebook recalled it) to Casa don Ismail, where Cat and I have a quiet, private room overlooking the volcano, requisite ruins and a courtyard filled with Orchids. . .
We ate dinner at a French restaurant that was built parallel to the ruins of the Iglesia Catolica of the Parque Central, watching the sun go down in clouds, and the sharp teeth of a volcanic skyline swell into a vague immensity in the gathering dark, and now we are typing to you wonderful people, enjoying our first evening in Guatemala, and getting ready to go back to the hostel to sleep.
A rough itinerary: Tomorrow travel to San Pedro La Laguna on Lake Atitlan, spend the night and find Jessie, Ariel and Amanda (Yoga). Friday, head back across the lake to San Jorge La Laguna and stay the evening with Carmencita, Juan Carlos, Pedrito and Daniel. Saturday, take the bus to Xela (Quetzaltenango) and stay somewhere! Sunday, travel to Colomba and get close to the Language School, Projecto Linguistico Quetzaltenango (En los Cuchumatanes).
We spend two weeks at the language school, living it up in thatch-roofed style.
Take care friends!
Love,
Brian and Catherine
Our first flight out we zonked out right away and stayed asleep until the plane came into Fort Lauderdale. Waiting at the crowded gate we ran into Amy again, who borrowed Cat's phone to call her girlfriend, and then sat awhile and talked with us as we learned that our plane had been delayed, first for an hour, then a little more.
On the plane, first sat next to a hawaiian shirt-clad missionary who seemed nondescript, then he moved and we were sitting next to, or rather, Cat was sitting in the shadow of, an enormous man in safari clothes, cowboy hat and glasses, who did nothing for some time.
We both went to sleep, and when I woke, the man had struck up a conversation of sorts with Cat, where he was trying to get her to pay for sodas with her credit card because he only had cash. This led to him offering us - peer pressure peer pressure peer pressure! - copious amounts of vodka from his duty free bag (I didn't know you were supposed to open it in-flight) and as he got drunker and drunker, the stories began to blend, from biting criticisms of the bombastic Americans traveling abroad, to bemoaning the state of public education, to the logical conclusion, flashbacks to Vietnam, which he illustrated shockingly by thwapping Cat in the forehead with his finger, saying, "You feel things brushing by your head, and you realize they're bullets, and a fraction of an inch either way and it would have been you dead..."
And so we stumbled off the plane into Guatemala, which our collective parents must LOVE to hear about, but we were okay, and walked safely and with a stunning display of linearity towards the ATM. All of our bags made it intact, we met up again with Amy, and a fellow traveler Jessie (-ca?) and shared a cab to Antigua, where I was able to recall the location (Okay, the Lonely Planet guidebook recalled it) to Casa don Ismail, where Cat and I have a quiet, private room overlooking the volcano, requisite ruins and a courtyard filled with Orchids. . .
We ate dinner at a French restaurant that was built parallel to the ruins of the Iglesia Catolica of the Parque Central, watching the sun go down in clouds, and the sharp teeth of a volcanic skyline swell into a vague immensity in the gathering dark, and now we are typing to you wonderful people, enjoying our first evening in Guatemala, and getting ready to go back to the hostel to sleep.
A rough itinerary: Tomorrow travel to San Pedro La Laguna on Lake Atitlan, spend the night and find Jessie, Ariel and Amanda (Yoga). Friday, head back across the lake to San Jorge La Laguna and stay the evening with Carmencita, Juan Carlos, Pedrito and Daniel. Saturday, take the bus to Xela (Quetzaltenango) and stay somewhere! Sunday, travel to Colomba and get close to the Language School, Projecto Linguistico Quetzaltenango (En los Cuchumatanes).
We spend two weeks at the language school, living it up in thatch-roofed style.
Take care friends!
Love,
Brian and Catherine
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
