Coban

My friend Mark, who I met in Belize, showed me some pretty incredible pictures of a place in Guatemala called Semuc Champey, so I decided I had to go there. Semuc Champey isn't exactly in a convenient part of Guatemala. I'd have to burn a day on a bus to a city called Coban, near Semuc Champey, but I decided it would be worth it.

One great thing about spending a day on a bus through Guatemala was that I got to see several different parts of the country, and I got to see the lanscapes change from one place to the next. After heading a few hours north of Antigua the lush, green hills had changed to a grassy, cactus filled desert. The bus passed through several small villages on the way, a few of which resembled miniature Antiguas, complete with pastel-colored storefronts and small, colonial style cathederals. Soon enough the landscape turned back into tree-covered mountains and hills and by the early afternoon I was in Coban.

My sightseeing time was limited today since I spent so much time on the bus, but I was able to visit a place called “Finca Santa Margarita”, or in English, Santa Margarita Farm. During the 19th century German immigrants moved to Guatemala and settled in Coban. Many of them founded coffee farms and became very influential in the area. During World War II the United States pressured Guatemala to deport the German immigrants, many of whom were supporters of the Nazi party, but the coffee farms remained.

Fortunately I showed up just in time for the last tour of the day and I was off to explore the coffee farm with four Swedish girls and a Guatemalan guide. Despite the fact that I don't drink coffee and really am not interested in coffee except to see how it is produced, the tour of the farm was enjoyable. The guide began the tour by leading us through narrow paths lined with different varieties of coffee plants. She picked the beans of several of the plants and gave some to each of us to smell. Later in the tour we saw a small facility where the beans are separated from the fruit, an area where beans are laid out to dry in the sun, and a room where coffee beans are roasted and packaged. The whole factory was pretty low-tech as far as manufacturing is concerned, but it was funny to me that at the very end a Guatemalan hombre was packaging the beans in attractive bags that would look tasteful in any American coffee shop. People buying Guatemalan coffee beans in the United States would never guess that the coffee they are buying is packaged at factories using equipment that was out of date fifty years ago.
I always enjoy long conversations with people of different ethnic backgrounds. At the end of the tour I sat down with the four Swedish girls as we were all given a cup of coffee to try (I pretended that I just don't like coffee). We talked a lot about stereotypes of different cultures. For some reason I asked if everyone in Sweden genetically has blonde hair and blue eyes (a really lame question on my part, especially considering I've been to Sweden and have seen people there without blonde hair and blue eyes, but in my defense, all four of these girls had blonde hair and blue eyes). One of the girls made a good point and asked if everyone from Salt Lake City has blonde hair and blue eyes. She said that everyone asks the same questions about Sweden: first, if everyone has blonde hair and blue eyes, and second, if it snows all the time. One girl said that while traveling in China she met quite a few locals who thought that polar bears roam freely in the streets in Sweden. The stereotypes they had about America were about the same as I've heard from other travelers. On the bright side Americans make the greatest TV shows in the world and we're very patriotic. On the ugly side we're generally known as being ignorant of other cultures and we drink a lot of Coke and we're fat. I told them that I'm fat too, but that I hide it with a girdle.

Late this afternoon I really wanted to visit the “Templo el Calvario” on a hill overlooking the city. Unfortunately the sun was already setting and I've promised myself that I won't wander around alone after dark while I'm in Guatemala. I feel like Will Smith in the movie, “I Am Legend”. Everything is fair game during the day, but when the sun starts to set I've got to head straight for my hotel in fear of the wild creatures that might appear outside after dark. With any luck I'll have some time tomorrow, after visiting Semuc Champay, to see the Templo el Calvario before the sun sets.

I did have a chance to (cautiously) brave the dark city streets near my hotel as I searched for a place to eat dinner tonight. I played it better-safe-than-sorry, hid my money belt with my passport underneath a mattress in my hotel room, and left for dinner with only my room key and one hundred quetzales in my pocket.

I decided it was high time for me to have some really authentic Guatemalan food and I figured there was no better way to do it than to eat like many of the locals do - from a street vendor at the city's central plaza. Using my best Spanish, which is more accurately described as “severely mangled” than “broken”, I ordered two plates of “churrascos” from a street-side booth. I don't know exactly what a churrasco is, but what I got was a pile of grilled tortillas with steak, onions, and Guatemalan picante sauce on the side. Guatemalans know how to make a good taco (for the sake of simplicity, we'll call these things tacos). The street food from Coban would rival the best tacos at a Mexican restaurant in the States, and would absolutely blow away the concoctions at Taco Bell. After getting my food I sat on a flimsy plastic stool next to two Guatemalan men and piled my tortillas high with steak and picante sauce. I must have looked like a high-roller ordering two plates of the stuff on a whim, but for twenty quetzales (two dollars and fifty cents), it didn't exactly break the bank.

On my way back to the hotel I stopped at a kiosk on the side of the road to buy a bottle of water. Again, my Spanish fell short and there was a lack of communication between myself and the guy behind the counter, so to save face I just ordered an orange Fanta instead. After another struggle to communicate I realized that the bottle wasn't included in the price so I sat at the kiosk and sipped my Fanta, which I really didn't even want in the first place. While sipping away a lady next to me noticed my Spanish phrasebook and was completely intrigued by it. The lady, Gladys, asked how much it cost and flipped through several of the pages and suddenly I was in the middle of a conversation with her as well as Enrique, the guy manning the kiosk. I joked around a bit with the two Guatemalans and we taught each other a few words in our respective languages before I finished my Fanta and was off.

Trying to have conversations in Spanish is a lot of fun, even though I usually have no idea what the other person is saying or how to respond. It would be nice if I had learned a bit more before I came down here, but I find it much easier to learn now that it's a necessity to eat and get a hotel room every day. Even though there was no mind-blowing sight or experience today, it has been worthwhile just to keep things low-key for a change. Wandering around in Coban today gave me more opportunities to speak Spanish than I've had during the last few days combined. Originally I counted this day as one that would be “burned” in transit, but it really has been worthwhile. After visiting Semuc Champay tomorrow I think I'll feel like I've seen quite a bit of Guatemala.