Bueno.

Well Buenos Aires, you’ve got me tongue tied.

“¿Che que onda?”

My thoughts exactly, what is going on? A month navigating Spanish in Guatemala was helpful...for the classroom. For the street, everyone might as well be speaking Portuguese. Porteños, or la gente de Buenos Aires, located on the mouth of the Río Plata, love their version of slang—lunfardo, customizing new vocabulary could almost be a national pastime. Well ¡Che Boludo!, how to even translate that ever-so-popular greeting? Once insult now turned affectionate is used for everything and everyone from your neighbor to your 5 yr. old cousin—“Eh Ché, quieres un café?!” Then, with a flip of tone it can become very much an insult once again if you’re not careful. Argentinos, especially Porteños, call it like it is, commonly referring to people by their physical attributes: “¿Gordita, vamos a la playa?” Of course, as a term of gordita/gordito is also a common term of endearment for very skinny people and young children. While flaco could very well be used to address a very large man.
Mix the strong penchant for lunfardo with a strong slur on ‘ll’ or ‘y’ sounds to sound like ‘sh’ or ‘j’, misho instead of mio. Add in lots of Italian and Spanish blood, and there’s still no way to describe a typical porteño. They’re a mix of people that can have an entire conversation just through hand gestures. It’s honestly enthralling just to watch them have conversations sometimes, even when you have no idea what’s going on.
Yet there is a part of Porteño culture that needs no translation, it may also be my favorite part: the kissing here is contagious. One must siempre kiss on the cheek as a greeting, announcing, “!hola estoy aqui, prestame attenciónnnnnn!” At once very intimate and friendly, it is done upon first meeting someone, while the concept of personal space and formal handshakes is non-existently humorous here. Well then Beso. Besito, Besame Buenos Aires, ‘cause here I am

Uncovering the Real Antigua

Antigua, hermosa Antigua. Literally translated as the ancient city, it was a city of past splendors filled with ruínas and scars of past earthquakes, filled with history and stories. With its arches, churches, and a certain stated charm to its cafes and streets to revel any of Latin America but also reminiscent of old school European rough glamour. It is truly a beautiful city, encompassing some of the best of Guatemala, siempre with its resplendent colors and nestled between three volcanoes. It might even be the only place where you can watch as sunset colors filter through regular cloudlike puffs from one of the three surrounding volcanoes, still very much active.
And as inviting and charming (and expensive!)* as all the cafés, bake shops, and restaurants with roof-top terraces and tinkling courtyard fountains were, they felt and resembled those any other nice city. Their sole uniqueness lies in the fact that we were still in Guatemala, and after so many chicken bus rides a return to civilization was civilized culture shock indeed. I loved exploring the ancient ruínas of the city—walking through columns no longer supporting the grand roofs now just bricks and dust under my feet. The plazas, arches, and doorways of a city whose allure was always peeking through some doorway or glimpsed just around the cornert. But here it was too easy; I soon forgot the taste of Guatemala, the rugged beauty and the challenges endured to uncover that beauty (ahem, 8 hours in a pull-man bus with no air conditioning to get to Semuc Champey). Despite all Antigua’s antiquated beauty, I was missing some connection to it. And then it hit me.
More like passed me on the street, looking darn good. I wanted that popsicle! I couldn’t help but narrow in one two girls and a small boy with undoubtanly the best popsicle I had ever seen, was that strawberry with banana chunks? There were definitely whole banana chunks. Without thinking, I scrammbled after the woman I had just seen licking my popsicle. “Compermiso, donde puedo encontrar esto paleta?” The girl did a double take. Her sister and her son, stopped and gaped at me open mouthed, forgetting their popsicles for a split second. They could tell I was foreign. The girl gave me a sheepish smile while her sister laughed and gave me directions. I thought I misunderstood, knock at the yellow carpenter’s house? I would have knocked at every yellow house and building on that street. Luckily for those inside, the girl came with me and directed me towards the, I was right, carpenter store. She knocked decisively on the wooden door, eyeing me curiosuly. “Si?”, answered the woman peering around the unmarked, heavy wooden door. They want paletas the girl explained and took off, glancing back once more grinning. The lady eyed us, and gave us her best smile when I asked what flavors she was offering. to be honest I couldn’t understand most of them, (leche (milk) was a flavor?).
“Which one’s the best?”
“ Fresa con crema, porque tiene pedasos de anana y fresas.”
“Quiero dos de esos porfavor.”

And they were the best. At 2 pesos apiece (25 cents cada uno), they were freshly made full of sabor and fresh, juicy chunk of bananas and strawberry. We sat on the stoop to concentrate at the task on hand, and as I waited for mine to melt I noticed several people walking around with the standard Sarita chain ice cream, glancing at our prizes enviously. I think it’s safe to say we were the only extranjeras who had discovered Antigua’s secret: good, homemade food is hiding behind closed doors and carpenters stores. Here was the treat, and the connection with the city I was craving. It just proves the old age advice ask the locals, do as the locals do to get the cremé de la cremé without the added foreigner disadvantage tax.

*Cultural Note: Nothing in Guatemala is really expensive, some of the nicest meals at the nicest restaurant in smaller towns, not Antigua, cost $10-12 US dollars, a normal, not even great meal in the States. Cost is all relative, but what goads my goat is when things are expensive because of tourism. The quality goes down, prices go up, and you’re left wondering exactly what you paid for and where you are because it’s just like home. Some travelers like that, but I go out of my way to find my own dirt track off the beaten path. I’ve rarely been disappointed, hey even diarrhea is an adventure when you’re far from home.

Semuc Champey: The Adventure Diaries

Well we did it, we topped the Volcano experience, no easy feat to be sure, but exploring caves filled with water past your shoulder and swimming with a candle in hand was far more wildly stupid and completely thrilling. But leave it to two tiny, little girls to seek out the craziest adventures in all of Guatemala and you would have a pretty fitting description of us. For most, staying at our huespedaje would have been adventure enough. Out in the middle of nowhere we were left the first night with no lights, no idea what to expect and no mosquito net when the generator cut off, unbeknowingly to us (but all too apparent within a few minutes) at 9:30. We’re lucky we had a sheet for a blanket, apparently others were not so lucky in that respect.
However, we were staying at the hands-down BEST place anywhere near Semuc Champey. Guatemala’s premier water park, Semuc Champey is resplendent with natural limestone waterfalls and a tier of perfect aquamarine pools that go from shallow for laying out and sunning to deep enough to dunk in and still not touch the mossy bottom. Add some friendly fish and you have the perfect mixture of natural wonder and comfortable enjoyment. Semuc Champey may just be the most beautiful area in a country as full as hidden gems and rico as any royal treasure trove. Our huespedaje was only an 8 km walk from the falls, right on the bank of the Río Cabahon. Posadas Marias, completly run and managed by a friendly staff of native K’echi Indians was established for vistors to stay in the area while ensuring their tourist dollars were going towards conservation of the sensitive ecological surroundings and into the hands of the people from the altaverapace area. Not far removed foreign investors, which is a problem with many touristy places in Guatemala, a sad fact that does nothing to help improve the lives and surroundings of the true inhabitants. For this reason, accommodations were basic yet perfectly sufficient. The focus was interacting with the area and community, not just hitting another must-see tourist spot.
This is where the caves come in. The Kan-ba caves were dark inside. Dark, and filled with water, and cold, up to your shoulders cold water, and bats. Awesome. And it was, our small group of five including guide, had the caves all to ourselves. Hugging the sides of the cave with water up to my knees and candle clenched tightly, I felt like a pioneer. Scaling over stalagmites or crude ladders held together with what looked like duct tape only to jump down into dark pools below I felt only very grateful I did not go first. Hey it was dark in there, but I didn’t ask too many questions once I realized how fast my candle was burning.
But the exhilaration...if the cold didn’t steal your breath away, the excitement would! It was unbelievable... very, very unbelievable, all things considered this was an attraction that would never be opened for tourist trade in the States. No part of it was for those faint at heart. And when our guide all too innocently joked about jumping off the 30 ft. high bridge into the río where we were currently relaxing in our oddly lumpy tubes... I shot him back a wide full-teeth grin of a smile, “We,” I replied wickedly, “would love to.” Love, might not have been the word I would use as I was flailing through the air minutes later; but it is the perfect sentiment for me to describe Semuc Champey. Loved it, you got to go... And go before they realize taking tourists through water filled caves with candles may actually be a really, really stupid (and dangerously fun) idea.