Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

When we woke and went to breakfast, we discovered our time-zone error and, realising we had an extra hour to spend, I took the opportunity to catch up writing the blog, although with no Internet connection I couldn't upload it all. With a very short day ahead, just 25 miles to Chichicastenango there was no rush, but at least the rain had stopped and the day promised to be clear and fine, which meant we might actually get to see the view over the lake we missed on the way in. With Al leading, Nick, Chris & Danielle and I left the hotel and made our way back the way we'd come, back up the twisting winding hill road, stopping at a roadside viewpoint to look back down over the lake and the town we'd just left...





Sadly the volcanoes for which this lake is most well-known were still hidden by the clouds, so we continued on our way back through the previously chaotic town of Solola, which was much quieter this morning as we skirted the edge of town and headed out to the main road. We almost missed the junction taking us to Chichi as it was hidden behind a mass of buses, all honking their horns to encourage the hundreds of passengers trying to cram themselves into them to hurry up. It didn't take us long to complete the journey, and on arriving at Chichi to get diverted from the route, but this time just in front of the hotel, so we made our way round the block and into the car park, then checked in. The hotel is another classic example of the brilliant accommodation that Kevin and Julia have managed to find for us on this trip – not only is there secure and safe parking for the bikes (our 1st priority), but the place reeks of character. It looks like another old monastery, but has always been a hotel according to the receptionist, the walls festooned with crucifixes, masks, religious paintings and the halls filled with antiques that would have that old twit with the mahogany face and half-moon glasses from the telly apoplectic. There's a swimming pool (which I doubt we'll have time to use), and a central courtyard filled with flowers and... parrots...








The reason for the short journey and stop in Chichi is that on Sunday there's a huge market here, with people coming from all over Guatamala to sell their wares, and so we quickly changed and went out to see it for ourselves, with a quick stop at an ATM to stock up on quetzals for the inevitable bargains we might find...





The market was a photographer's dream, the colours so incredibly vibrant, the women dressed in their traditional brightly-coloured woven clothes (regardless of age, the young girls dressed the same as their grandmothers), the stalls full of beautiful woollen fabrics, brightly painted masks, jade and stone jewelry, the food stalls crammed with everything from fresh chillies to turkeys in baskets. In amongst this assault on the visual senses were the smells, fresh food being prepared in the central market area, the women clapping tortillas on their hands and pressing them on flat steel cooking pans over charcoal, all the time the thronging mass pushing this way and that, and the shouts of “Hola” as we were enticed to enter discussions on prices for things we didn't want and couldn't carry. We were regularly approached by little old ladies trying to sell us patterned rugs or shawls “for your mother” (not sure mine would want one, even if I could get it home!), their wrinkled old faces either pleading with us or roaring with laughter...





As we wandered deeper and deeper into the market, we felt like Gulliver in Lilliput, as we were jostled this way and that by little ladies in bright clothing, none of whom was over 5 feet tall, or by the men, equally short, but wearing more western clothes. The chaos was fantastic, and we simply walked round for hours, soaking it all in...














After lunch and another lap or six of the market, we headed back to the hotel, where I was able to do some washing (using the powder I'd bought) and then we had another group meeting... this one was convened to discuss the route-change arising from a collapsed mountain, which has taken away some 50km of road that we should have been riding on tomorrow... The new route will take us directly to Antigua Guatamala, the town we were due to spend 2 nights at before the border crossing into Honduras, and now we'll be staying 3 nights instead (albeit in 2 hotels as the original one can't accommodate us for the extra night). It'll be nice to spend a little longer in one place, and as Guatamala's Independence Day falls whilst we'll be there, it should be quite entertaining...

The other item on the meeting agenda was the “Prat Hat” awards... the nominees this week were: Aaron (for his 0-mph topple into a ditch), Karen (for putting on Richard's waterproofs – which considering she's tiny and he's huge is quite some feat), Kevin (for not informing us of the time-zone change [reply: it's not a holiday, it's an adventure and we're not here to hold your hands] and for attempting to put his keys in Julia's bike when leaving San Cristibal), and Nigel (for “dissing the hat” by not wearing it sufficiently at the border, and for leaving an important document behind and having to go back to get it)... Not surprisingly, the “dissing the hat” was considered the most heinous of crimes, and Nigel gets the hat for a 2nd border...

After the meeting concluded, we headed out for dinner, the market now over and the stalls being dismantled, revealing the Chichicastenanga underneath, a grey, dusty town with little to recommend it... amazing how it can change in just a few short hours... Dinner was good, though, particularly the chocolate cake I had for dessert...