Highlights of My Guatemalan Visit, Nov 25, 2014 - Jan 2, 2015

Writing a concise recap of a 38-day journey in any country is not an easy task. To capture the essence of my Guatemalan experience became particularly challenging when I liked every aspect of my experience. I have viewed the set of over 750 photos at least three times to try to select certain topics to expand on but to no avail. So I will just deploy a more long-winded chronological approach.

Instead of starting my Guatemalan journey in the capital like I normally would, I arrived in Livingston late November in the hope of attending the Annual Garifuna Festival. Unlike the other parades that I attended in Canada, I was part of this parade. It was definitely a lot more fun dancing with the people than just watching the parade.

Then the next unusual thing happened when I was staying in an eco-lodge on the river, Rio Dulce. After a night of heavy downpour, I went down early next morning to the dock to see if I could take some photos of the freshly replenished river. I saw what I thought was a river monster in the form of an over-sized snake. As I found out later, I actually sighted the elusive manatee at a close range.

My visit to Tikal would have been a standard, touristy affair if it weren’t for the fact that I got lost, trying to find the Group G Temples after a 4-hour guided tour. Even though most of the paths are paved, the distance from a group of structures to the next could be far. On that day, there was a triathlon in the national park. One of the tri-athletes ripped off a map from his tank top, and unexpectedly gave me the most unique souvenir.

When I headed off to Semuc Champey from Flores, I had no reservation for accommodation because I was in a hotel with no wifi in Santa Elena. On my way there, I met a group of young tourists and decided to tag along. I got lucky because the hostel that we stayed in is right outside the entrance of the national park and the setting is absolutely idyllic. It rained most of the night but I managed to crawl up to the peak the next morning to take pictures of the world-renown limestone pools. I rewarded myself with a cup of hot chocolate that was produced by the local kids at high tea.

Another amazing thing happened in Coban. I checked into a beautiful little hotel that is just half a block from the main square. My young friends from Semuc were raving about Antigua and said they could have stayed there the whole time instead. But I wanted to take a more unbeaten path and visit Huehuetenango in the west. I went down to the bus station where the luxury buses were parked only to find out that I would have to take a minibus in the early hours the next morning in the city square.

In Huehuetenango, I attended an open-air mass in the main square, visited a nearby Mayan ruins site and witnessed the burning of the devil on December 7th. I was glad that I made an effort to go to Huehue because I saw extraordinary landscapes. It was funny to see a shepherd girl with her flock waiting in front of a traffic light.

Lonely Planet has labelled Quetzaltenango (a.k.a. Xela) as the most perfect city in Guatemala. Well, it could well be for the large number of Gringos living there. There are several big box stores on the perimeter of the city. In addition, there are neighbourhood markets sprawling all over the city. Somehow the mixture of colonial buildings, Renaissance structures, modern stores and cobble stone streets blended quite well together. The highlights of my stay in Xela were actually a visit to Fuentes Georgina in Zunil and a day trip to San Marcos near the Mexican border.

Lake Atitlan took my breath away from the first glimpse. I based myself in Panajachel and visited several villages around the lake. Shopping and people-watching were my main activities at the lake. Lake Atitlan is one of the few places where traditional ways of life are prevalent. The residents prefer to carry their goods in a basin on their heads. Riding on the back of a pick-up truck is the public transportation norm.

Chichicastenango is about 1½ hour drive away from Panajachel by shuttle but it would take 2½ hours by chicken buses with 2 transfers. I went there on a Sunday. Their Sunday market is the largest in Central America. What really astounded me was how the locals worshipped Christian deity and saints in an indigenous way. Candles were placed in the aisles of the church. Incense was burnt as worshippers chant prayers in their mother tongue outside the church. Their cemetery is even more colourful than the houses for the living.

There are two ways of getting to Monterrico from places north of the village. I entered into Monterrico by way of a slow boat through the mangrove from La Avellana and exited via Iztapa on a highway four days later. One of my young friends from Semuc recommended Monterrico to me. I thought perhaps I should since Monterrico is a vacation spot on the Pacific coast and it would provide a change of scenery. It did give me a chance to take a break after two months of constantly on the move.

My last stop was La Antigua. This former capital city wowed me with its attention to details. Several people told me that it has the most beautiful McDonald’s restaurant in the world. And yes, it does. The city has put in so much effort to hide modern commercialism from sight. There are supermarkets, electronic stores, auto repair shops, etc. in the city but the signs are mostly inconspicuous. Tourists would just see the small grocery stores, ice cream parlours, bakeries, clothing shops and things you would find in an old small town. Flowers are planted everywhere even amongst the ruins and the streets are very clean.

Guatemala City is about an hour bus ride away from La Antigua. It is a modern city with many suburbs. I made two day trips to the city mainly to visit the city centre and the museums there. By coincidence, I was there on the last Sunday in 2014 and attended mass in the main cathedral. The Sunday market outside the cathedral was mostly a clothing market. Many people were buying new clothes for the new year that day, and the mood of the city was joyous.

My last day trip was a multi-destination one. I visited San Andres Iztapa in the morning. After lunch, I visited Tecpan and Iximche ruins. I managed to purchase a hand woven traditional skirt before vendors packed away their merchandise for the day. For weeks, I had been looking for a skirt to match the blouse that I bought in Chichicastenango. The villages around Lake Atitlan favoured blues and purples. Fortunately, Tecpan, like Chichi, favoured reds and oranges. I happened to stumble upon the right tribal colours at the very last minute.

If I could choose only one word to describe my Guatemalan experience, it would have to be “AUTHENTIC”. I ate mostly local food, travelled in chicken buses and pick-ups, shopped in local markets, and even was dressed in traditional Guatemalan clothing on New Year‘s Day.

May God protect this unique country and keep its genuine, loving people safe.

"Disconnected"

A few years ago when I worked in a property management office of a housing co-operative in the poorest neighbourhood in Canada, I witnessed suffering on a daily basis. A majority of the residents lived alone either on pension or social assistance. One day a man in his seventies showed up in the office with a completed annual survey form. I scanned the form and found that he had left the section for Emergency Contact blank. I explained to him that his contact did not have to live in the same province but he/she would be able to make decisions for him in the event that he became incapacitated. He replied, ‘Just put down “911”.’ In North America, 911 is the number to call for police, fire department and ambulance.

Thinking that he must have misunderstood my explanation, I reiterated my explanation and tried to squeeze a name and phone number out of him. He pulled a chair up and sat down quietly in front of me. He started telling me his story.

He was born in the early 1930’s in rural Manitoba. He only had elementary school education when he started working full time on the family farm. When he turned 18, he ran away from home and worked as a day labourer to fund his way out to the west coast. He finally settled down in Vancouver. He got married and later divorced after a 12-year marriage. He had a son and a daughter whom he never saw after the divorce. Soon after the divorce, he took up drinking, became jobless then homeless for many years. He was accepted by the housing co-operative through a social worker when the building was first opened for occupancy. The minute he moved into the housing co-op, he no longer was the social worker’s client/responsibility.

Fighting back tears, I asked him if it would be alright if I put down my name and phone number as his emergency contact. He declined and said he would not want to be a trouble for me. I thanked him for trusting me enough to tell me his story. He said it felt good to “re-connect” with the outside world once in a while. The whole time he was telling his story he did not supply excuses for himself and I could never forget how much hurt I saw in his eyes.  I wonder how our society could write him off just because his life path was different from theirs.

Global citizens

My paternal grandfather passed away 30 years ago in Vancouver, a few weeks short of his 72nd birthday, and was buried in Vancouver a week later as per his instructions. He was born into a wealthy family in northern China in 1912. He was well educated and led a privileged life until 1949 when the communists took over the rule of China. He managed to escape to Hong Kong with his teenage son (my father). He never returned to Mainland China after taking refuge in Hong Kong. When he visited Vancouver for holidays, he fell in love with the place right away. He decided to stay and bought a vegetable farm in the suburbs. He made every effort to assimilate into the mainstream culture. Even though he only lived in Vancouver for 13 years, he always considered Canada as his final home.

My maternal great aunt was the direct opposite of my grandfather. At age 17, she was forced to marry an older man in her village in Southern China. She ran away to the nearest port and hid in a cargo ship heading for Singapore. She worked as a domestic servant or nanny all her life since she was illiterate and never married. When I visited her in Singapore in 1985, she had already lived in Singapore for 51 years. She lived very frugally and sent all her earnings back to her relatives in China. After she passed away, her adopted daughter brought her ashes back to a temple near her hometown in southern China. My great aunt had a lot of deep-rooted ties with Singapore where she had lived for 62 years; however, her heart and soul never left China.

In my travels, locals often ask me where I am from. I used to say that I am from Canada. For remote areas, people simply could not accept the answer of an outwardly Chinese looking visitor coming from Canada. For urban dwellers, the answer usually suffices when I say “Vancouver, Canada”. Then they would reply, “My uncle lives in Toronto…” I am very grateful to have the best of both worlds. My Chinese heritage makes me pragmatic, resourceful and organised. My Canadian upbringing makes me compassionate, open and trusting. Moreover, unlike my grandfather and great aunt, I would not insist to be buried in Canada or China for I am a citizen of the world.

As air travel becomes more and more prolific, people move around more frequently and widely. Not just the rich and famous would have homes all over the globe. I often hear Canadian seniors telling me that they “rotate” around the world to stay with their grown-up children all over the world. National boundaries are fading. Inter-racial marriages are common in developed countries. It would be almost impossible to classify ethnicities in a hundred years or so. We might not be far away from the benchmark of living in a truly global village.

Farewell Cook Islands

The following letter was sent to the editor of Cook Islands News on March 18th; however, it was never published and was replaced by several letters from bogus Canadian tourists subsequently.

As I bid farewell to the Cook Islands after a four and a half month stay, I would like to share my reflections with the Cook Islands News readers. This newspaper has been my main source of local information in the past few months.

I came to the Cook Islands with one specific purpose - to see for myself the way of life on an outer island, especially in the Northern Group. Well, I waited for a cargo boat for a couple months only to find out that there was no boat that would take me to Pukapuka or Penrhyn until the middle of March at the earliest. The cost of flying with Air Rarotonga to either island is almost $1500 NZD one-way and there is no guarantee that I could catch a plane or a boat to return to Rarotonga in time for my return to Canada in mid-April when my tourist visa expires. Well, my initial frustration with the shipping company and the lack of inter-island transportation options have turned into deep admiration for the residents of the outer islands for their patience and perseverance. I could imagine how isolated and neglected from the rest of the country these residents must have felt at times.

In spite of the relatively high cost of living and the numerous resorts, holiday rental buildings, souvenir shops, bars and restaurants situated all around the island of Rarotonga, there is still a lot of nature, gorgeous beaches and landscape to qualify Rarotonga as paradise. For instance, after I take a second look of the clear turquoise water, I would have almost forgotten how expensive lunch was. (chuckles) For North American tourists like myself, Cook Islands are probably not at the top of our list of sunny destinations because there are other "paradises" which are far more attractive in terms of value and notoriety. I hate to think how your economy would be adversely affected should the Euro or British Pound drop, say by 10%. I understand 75% of the GDP in the Cooks is attributed to the tourism industry. In general, excessive dependency on any single industry is never a good thing for any economy, particularly when the tourism industry is so price-elastic and there is already an over-supply of tourist accommodation and services in Rarotonga.

A few days ago, I read the telephone directory of the Cook Islands, cover to cover, and had a revelation. The majority of the communities in the Southern group of islands are of mixed descent, namely European and Polynesian. It would appear to me that Cook Islanders, especially the younger generation, are not clear what their core values and belief systems are. The proliferation of internet access appears to accentuate external influences on the residents' choices and lifestyles. Unfortunately, when the "going gets tough", it is human nature to take the easiest way out without attempts to remain steadfast to the original culture and practices. Perhaps the issue of depopulation best illustrates the points that I am trying to make. The danger of this "rite of passage" is that these emigrants might never return if the quality of life does not improve in the Cook Islands.

I don't think any foreign consultants and scholars can prepare a comprehensive plan to rectify the socio-economic problems and improve the quality of life for Cook Islanders. You already have the answers and solutions, be it tax, legal and legislative reforms, or being self-sufficient in terms of food supply, or health care improvements. God has blessed the Cook Islands with all the necessary ingredients for building sustainable, healthy and happy communities. The task at hand is to find the right recipe that utilize these ingredients. What works in developed countries might not be appropriate for the Cook Islands. Be careful with the deployment of your resources and capital when fulfilling your community needs. The key to a brighter future is in your hands. May you thrive as a truly sovereign nation in the near future. In closing, I would like to leave you with the following quote:

Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control. These three alone lead to sovereign power.- Lord Alfred Tennyson

A Simple Life

Day 75 in Rarotonga, Cook Islands.

It has been a long while since I have taken a real break from urban life and people. The last time I did a similar thing was when I took up a summer job in Northern BC. I only stayed there for a little less than three months. Even though the population of Muncho Lake was only 22 people, I was constantly surrounded by co-workers and tourists. I used to have long talks about anything and everything - troubles, dreams, hopes and aspirations. When I wanted solitude, I could always retreat to the vast forests and mountains on my days off. There was no internet or satellite TV. The VHS player had just started becoming a common home appliance.

Then life got more complicated and people were more wary of each other. Fewer heart-to-heart talks happened and they were few and far between. It got to a point that people would only contact me because they needed something from me or to reproach me. I might be living in a city of half a million people but I was more isolated than ever. Travelling was my only escape; I would forget the unworthiness that other people made me feel about myself. Maybe by chance, I would find my Shangri-la in my travels. Well, after my Trans-Siberian journey in 2011, I knew I was going to take more drastic actions to lead a simpler life in my golden years. I then developed a list of things that I was searching for.

The list of criteria for my utopia is as follows:
1) Warm all year-round, 18 - 32 degrees Celsius.
2) Not too dry or too humid. I prefer storms to continuous rainfalls.
3) Population density not higher than 100 people per sq. km.
4) At least 100 metres above sea level because global warming is real.
5) Not located in a major natural-disaster zone (e.g. the Ring of Fire)
6) Average education level of residents not lower than high school graduation.
7) Cost of living comparable to the Canadian average. If not, I should be able to live off the land.
8) Most locals can speak or understand English.
9) If religion is mandatory, I would prefer to be residing in a Christian community.
10) Reliable and cost-effective transportation is available to access the closest international airport.

Equipped with my list, I set out to find my heaven on earth in January 2013. I thought my final destination would be Cook Islands because it checked off almost all my criteria. After the setback in March 2013, I thought maybe I should also visit other islands that did not meet my basic requirements. I took a detour to visit South India, Sri Lanka, Malaysia and Indonesia in the fall of 2013. I am glad I took the time to check them out. I saw some amazing things and places, and was welcomed by some of the warmest people in the world. However, I just could not deal with crowded, chaotic places on a daily basis.

Returning to the present...There are roughly 13,000 people on the island of Rarotonga including locals, foreign workers and tourists. Even though the island is geographically remote, residents and visitors are not completely cut off from the rest of the world and enjoy modern conveniences. If it weren't for the constant sound of the waves, I would have felt like I was back in Vancouver in the summertime. Perhaps because tourism is the chief industry here, tourists are no strangers to the locals. Polynesians generally are friendly and caring. Well, the Rarotongans are the exception. They are only interested in the $$$ that the tourists bring into their economy. I have yet to find a Rarotongan who has taken time to chitchat with me.

I had hoped to settle on one of the outer islands in the Cooks. About three weeks ago, I realized that my dream of living here would not materialize because there is no reliable and/or scheduled inter-island transportation between Rarotonga and the other 11 islands. Item #10 on my list of criteria, therefore, cannot be checked off. The Cook Islands might have looked ideal on paper for a retirement place; the country is nonetheless riddled with a large number of deep-rooted socio-economic issues that even additional foreign aid and grants could not resolve in the near future. Sadly though, the reality is that there will be less foreign aid and grants.

Joy has left Rarotonga

It has been seven weeks since I arrived in Rarotonga, Cook Islands. For some strange reason, I have sensed little or no joy on this beautiful and supposedly "the happiest island in the South Pacific". At first I thought it could be because people were stressed out by the hype of the holiday season. Perhaps the locals would be happier after New Year's. Well, it is more than three weeks into 2014, and there is no sign of cheerfulness on the island.

On the day before Christmas Eve, I went to extend my visa at the Immigration Office, the lady on the other side of the counter told me about her oldest daughter's suicide two years ago. I asked my hostess about the incident. She replied that teenage suicides are very common in Rarotonga. Even the adults often feel "hopeless" living on this island. Most residents do not consider living here as a special gift from God. They want to live in New Zealand or Australia. As the saying goes, "The grass is always greener on the other side of the septic tank".

During many of my conversations with local papas and mamas, they have repeatedly raised concerns about their offspring resenting physical work, and turning to the bottle or other addictive habits for "relief". A week ago, the 10-year old girl next door let out blood-hurdling cries when her grandparents asked her to mow the lawn with a motorized lawn mower.This girl would otherwise play video games and/or watch movies 24/7 during her 6-week school break. Subsequently, the older generation is still toiling on their farms, yards and households while the younger generation pursues a hedonistic lifestyle.

Even though religion has a strong hold on the communities on Rarotonga, petty theft is prevalent. Lying and stealing are not being frowned upon. What could have been an island paradise is contaminated with greed, immorality and contempt for authority. Unless the young Rarotongans realize that the future is in their hands, build stronger work ethics, and shape up instead of ship out, social problems are going to plague this once "happiest island in the South Pacific".

My Indonesian Journey - Temples, smoking, shopping and other things...

Indonesia Nov 12 - Dec 5, 2013

I have always thought Indonesia is just a group of islands that are constantly under the threat of natural disasters and civil unrests. When the tsunami hit Banda Aceh on Boxing Day 2004, I could not help but asked God why such catastrophe should fall upon these people. Well, my visit to Banda Aceh provided answers to questions in my mind.

Banda Aceh had a lot of social problems and power struggles before the disaster. This port city had been on an economical decline for the last couple hundred years. Because of all the fighting going on, the city was already crumbling except for the mosques in pre-Tsunami times. I was informed by the staff at the Tsunami Museum that most of the city was rebuilt after the disaster. The government and NGO's also built houses for the homeless people. Reconstruction of roads and houses are still evident everywhere in the city. Because there were few resources left behind to fuel the in-fights after the tsunami, talks of being an independent state ceased too.

The three islands that I visited during my Indonesian journey are Sumatra, Java and Bali. Sumatra is the second largest island of the 1700 islands in the Indonesian territories. Sumatra is now the chief producer of Indonesian coffee. Java is the most populous island where 100,000 year old Java Man skeleton was discovered. I visited the Sangiran Museum and learned much about the Java Man in relation to Homo Erectus and Homo Sapiens. The other two important historic sites on Java island are the Borobudur (Buddhist) Temple which is some 40 km west of Yogyakarta. About 17 km east of Yogyakarta is the Prambanan (Hindu) Temples. Other than being a UNESCO site, Bali is a world class vacation spot, renowned for its unique Hindu temples and beautiful beaches. The other four UNESCO sites in Indonesia, that I did not visit, (from West to East) are Tropical Rainforest of Sumatra, Ujung Kulon National Park, Komodo National Park and Lorentz National Park respectively.

The foreign exchange rates are quite different from the international currency markets. When I received 10,950 IDR for every 1 CAD in the first licensed money changer office that I went into in Jakarta, I was already very happy because I could only get 10,800 IDR per 1 CAD in Canada. You could imagine how delighted I was when I changed more CAD's in a local bank in Banda Aceh, and the exchange rate was 1 CAD to 13,000 IDR minus a 3% commission. The Indonesian government could lose a lot of money when they buy the foreign currencies from the banks.

Just when I thought smoking is prevalent in Malaysia, smoking is an integral part of Indonesian life. A pack of cigarettes costs less than $1.00 USD in Indonesia. In all my travels, I have not seen as many chain smoker drivers as in Indonesia. I should know because I was always assigned the front seats right behind the driver. Even though Philip Morris bought the leading cigarette company, Sempoerna out a few years back, the national brand, Dji Sam Soe still has the majority market share. The unfiltered, hand rolled, cut and packaged kredit cigarettes remain the most popular choice of the older Indonesian smokers. Kredit cigarettes are tobacco blended with cloves and other secret spices.

Bali has always been in the TOP TEN list for having the most beautiful beaches in the world. In spite of the onslaught of tourists, most places on the island are kept pretty intact from the outside world. I was swarmed by aggressive taxi drivers when I arrived in the bus terminal in Mengwi around 10 p.m. I walked to the nearest police station and asked for assistance. A handsome policeman drove me to my guesthouse in Kuta. Prices in Kuta are still relatively low given that there are so many world class resorts and 5-star hotels. Transportation is a major issue in Bali. Unless you rent a car, your travels are limited by the sporadic bus schedules.

In many ways, Indonesia has exceeded my expectations. Even though I have sworn not to buy any souvenirs on this trip, I could not help but bought 4 tops, 1 batik jacket, 1 batik sarong and 1 pair of leather sandals in Indonesia because they are so beautiful and inexpensive. One of these days, I will return and travel to the eastern islands of Indonesia.