Mayan Ruins and Homicides

Today is my last day in Copán. Also it was my last chance to see the famous Copán Ruins, the biggest Mayan Ruins in Honduras. The ruins are the reason why tourists come here; yet I had not seen them. But today, I decided, I would.

All the people that I’ve talked to about the ruins told me to hire a guide. Sure it’s more expensive, they said, but it's so worth it. The guide will explain the purpose of each statue and building, the culture of Mayans and so on. Otherwise, this one woman said to me this morning, all you do is stare at rocks.

Well, guess what? I’m cheap. The entrance to the ruins alone was 15 dollars. I think that is expensive. So I decided to go about it without a guide. How bad could it be, I thought. There are explanation boards everywhere, I’m sure. So I entered alone, only accompanied by my camera and tons of Macaws.

And I ended up staring at rocks. Cool rocks, for sure, but without explanation they were just rocks.

I had fun though. The pyramids (or temples or whatever) sure are interesting to look at. I was walking close to a tall pyramid-like structure when I saw people up, on top of it. I wanted to get up there too, but I couldn’t see any stairs or path. The structure itself had stairs, of course, it was a pyramid. So I thought, this must be the way up.

I though Mayans were tiny hobbit-people, just like me. But these stairs were made for giants! It was quite a job to get on top. And when I did, I realized there was a fence in front of me – forbidden entrance. On the other side were about 30 elementary school students staring at me with their guide. “Ehhh… Was I not supposed to… climb the sacred stairs to the… holy temple?”

Oh well, I had fun and took loads of pictures. Now I just need to pack, once again, my backpack. Tomorrow it’s Caribbean, baby!

I feel I should tell you more about Honduras, but I don’t know what. My peaceful life in this quiet little town is not exactly a model example of Honduran life. Honduras is actually the lead country in the whole world in homicides: more homicides per capita than any other country. Even Mexico. Human life has no value here. You can get killed for your shoes.

Poverty is an issue here. There are Mayan villages on the mountains where children starve to death every day. People don’t even have clean water. It’s a third world country. And I don’t know how to deal with that. But I met one awesome lady here. Her name is Ellen and she is from the States, but has been living here for few years now. Originally she came to study Spanish for a week, but decided to stay. She went to visit some villages and schools and when she noticed that the students didn’t have books or pens or anything, she bought them books and pens.

When her friends back in the States heard about it, they sent her money to help more. First she repaired a school and then she built one. Now she has her own organization that does humanitarian work in Honduras. They are involved with many projects such as building and repairing schools and medical clinics, helping villages to have clean water etc.

It’s really humbling to meet people like Ellen, who dedicate their lives to helping others. Not all people are meant to live like her, but we should all learn from her.


"We are afraid to care too much, for fear that the other person does not care at all."
- Eleanor Roosevelt

Los Perros de Copán

Yesterday it finally struck me. The urge. The urge to photograph. Like I knew it would. I walked around the town, trying to capture the sense of it, the feeling, the inner being. As doing so I came across with a problem. The major part of the true being of this town, are its people, and their homes; The children playing on the streets, moms carrying their babies, old women sitting on side of the road, men in their macho behavioral.

But, doesn’t photographing these people, their children and homes, make me an ignorant tourist, disrespectful of locals and their culture? Of course I can ask permission, but every photographer knows that the minute permission is asked, the picture loses its authenticity. It becomes a pose, a fake picture of a fake moment. But does capturing an authentic moment give me the right to compromise morality of a photographer? I find myself inclined not to compromise.

So, in the midst of these thoughts, I realized that there is a very fascinating part of this town that nobody would mind me photographing. This piece of town is always visible, always present and always interesting. The dogs.

The dogs are everywhere. They come in every color, size and character. Some are timid, some are curious, some are sweet, some are bold. I’m intrigued by their stories, which I am never to find out. But in their eyes I can see they have a story.

My mission for this week is to photograph the dogs of Copán. Hopefully my week will be successful.

There are some other things I would like to share with you about Honduras, but I am not quite sure what and how. This country is so different from many others I’ve been to. It makes me feel at peace but also sad. It’s a culture much different from mine, where possibilities are lacking and future, especially for women, is uncertain.

It’s a country where people very openly claim to be Christians but yet real Christian behavioral is not visible. It’s a country where Christianity for women means submitting to their husbands, which again means being a prisoner in their own house. Mostly married women are not allowed to leave home, they must stay and attend children, house chores and all other needs of their husbands, while men, in their macho way, go running around with mistresses. And a woman without a husband is looked down upon.

It’s Europe couple hundred years ago.

Of course not every person, every family or every place in Honduras is like this. But it is a huge part of the culture, of the country. Once again, it’s about money and education. No education, no possibilities of making it any better.

What did I ever do to deserve to be born in Finland? Had I been born here, I would be just another sad woman, locked in my home with kids and most likely a macho, unfaithful husband. Or I could be a single mother, left by my husband who found a younger girl to play with.

Cynical? I don’t think so. Just come here and see.

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."

- Jim Elliot

Two weeks of Solitude

I have gotten myself stuck in a calm and peaceful life here in Honduras. And I quite enjoy it. My days pass by quietly, with Spanish lessons in the morning, relaxing and reading in the afternoon. I rarely go out except to buy groceries. I find myself loving the solitude this place grants me. I do not miss the company of others, although I do enjoy the encounters with my lovely neighbor, Ale (the Brazilian).

Ale is the kind of girl that you just can't help but liking. She is sweet to everyone, always so happy and smiling. Plus she cooks great (although only vegetarian) and often invites me to eat.

Since last time I wrote I have found out that in the apartment below mine live two nice girls, Liza from the States and Joelyn (not sure how to spell) from Belgium. They work in café ViaVia, which is the gringo place to go around here.

Yesterday all of us girls went out to have pizza together. We were accompanied by Alejandro, are friend of the girls. We had a nice time and I did enjoy having company for a change. But it frustrates me that I am not yet able to construct complicated sentences in Spanish. I understand almost everything I hear, but talking is annoyingly hard. I don’t have enough vocabulary.

I have long been able to easily manage all daily things with my Spanish. But now I am at the point where those things are not enough anymore. I want to be able to talk about politics, history, health care and what kind of book I was reading last week. I want to be fluent in Spanish. But big news, as easy language as it is, it does not happen overnight.

In my peacefulness I have not succeeded in taking a lot of pictures. For this reason I have not posted them either. I would love to show you what a wonderful little town Copán is, but you will just have to wait until I get my inspiration. And it will come, before I leave. I am sure of it.

My Spanish school has a bookshelf with tons of books in English. I remember many times back in Finland, when I was complaining how I don’t have time to just read books anymore. Well, now I do. I have time to read as many books I want, while relaxing in a hammock, sweet dog next to me, having the warm Honduran sun make me feel like in paradise.

The peacefulness around here has a limit, though. And that limit is ten o’clock in the evening, when I usually go to bed (lame, huh?). That is exactly when all the dogs in the neighborhood start their two-hour barking contest. And after that, around four in the morning, the roosters start their serenade. But I got kind of used to that in Mexico already.

I am not yet sure of my future travel plans, but I am hoping to make it to Utila, one of Hondura’s Caribbean islands known as Bay Islands, to get certified as a diver. Utila is the cheapest place in the world to get certified, plus they have the second biggest coral reef in the world. Wish me luck.

Que tal? Estoy en Honduras!

During my years of travel and work and other stuff I have learned that one of the most important things in life is to stay true to how you really feel. Trust your instincts. Listen to yourself.

Other thing that I have learned is that you should always be flexible to sudden changes in your travel plans. For these two and some other quite heavy reasons I decided not to stay in Guatemala. I know I made the right decision.

So, I just had to decide where to go then. With just a sketch of a map in my notebook, drawn by a friend, and a bag full of good will and hopes I hopped into a bus and took a 12-hour ride to Copán, Honduras. I arrived here last Friday, night o’clock at night. With that sketch, and just a name of a family, I was able to find the most awesome place for me to stay.

This awesome Honduran family, mom, dad and two kids, rent out small apartments. I have my own kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and most importantly; an internet that works. How excited am I! The family lives in the same building, and there’s a Brazilian girl renting the apartment next to mine. And is she sweet or what? I’m already so in love with her.

This area is very calm, which suits me perfectly. A hammock just outside my door is a perfect place to relax and read a book in the warm Honduran weather. Much better than in Xela.

The family also has two full-grown dogs and a puppy. One of the dogs, Oso (bear in Spanish), has become my new best friend. He likes to lie down on the floor next to me when I am reading in the hammock. So sweet.

One thing in Latin America is that there are dogs everywhere. And I so want to adopt them all. Today I saw a dog with no bottom jaw. Can you imagine that? Just a lip hanging low, and a tongue. He looked so miserable I wanted to hug him and take him home. Of course I didn’t.

I started Spanish lessons today in Guacamaya school. My teacher is fantastic, and sweet that she is, already complemented my Spanish. I feel I have learned a lot, and I get by already pretty well. My family here, for example, doesn’t speak English at all. Spanish is the main language also with my awesome Brazilian apartment-roomie.

Anyway, nothing much happened here yet. My stomach is still not so good, and I might have to switch medicine. We’ll see. Well, until next time, sweet dreams.

"Life at anytime can become difficult; life at any time can become easy. It all depends upon how one adjusts oneself to life."

- Unknown

Blastocystys Hominis (TIG)

So, funny story.

I finally went to a clinic today, to Primeros Pasos, which is a non-profit clinic that offers low cost medical service. They have volunteer doctors from the States, so I got service in English. And the service was good! My doctor, Rebecca from Philadelphia, was like so awesome I can’t even describe it.

Anyway. I arrived at the clinic around nine in the morning. I was the only gringo patient there. I saw my doctor, explained my symptoms. They asked me to give them a stool sample. I had expected it. Well, you know what? I’ve been shitting my brains out for the past six days (last time this morning), not being able to eat anything. But when I need to give a sample, do I feel like taking a dump? No!

I found a little shop close by to buy something to eat – thing that usually made my stomach go crazy. There was a young girl there who kindly sold me a chocolate covered doughnut and a small bag of chips. I ate them. Nothing. I went back and bought two more doughnuts (she must have thought I was into sweets or something..). I waited. Half an hour, an hour. Nothing. How ironic! It was like the things inside my stomach knew: if we let her give the sample, they will kill us…

Then my doctor, very kindly, gave me some of her instant coffee. I drank half a cup. And yes! I felt something coming, run to the bathroom. I succeeded! How awesome.

I found Stieg Larssen’s book The girl who played with fire on the shelf, took it and went outside to wait for the results. A minute after my doctor came out and told me… that my sample was not pure (there’s a story there, but I will skip it) and I need to give another one. Nooooooooo!! You can’t do this to me!

Oh well, after two more cups of instant coffee and the feeling of wanting to puke by just the smell of it I succeeded again. I took the book and waited again. I got to page 20. Couldn’t really remember half of what I was reading. My doctor called me in.

And she said: “You have ameba.”

Ameba. I have an ameba?? Where am I, in a third world country?? (You betcha!) Well, parasites are common here. That’s actually probably the most common reason why gringos come to the clinic. But my case, she said, seemed bad. The worst she’s ever seen actually (and she’s seen a lot!). She said that she was surprised I am not dehydrated or in more pain (I have been in pain, trust me).

But the good news is, it’s treatable. Maximum dose for me. At least three days before I even start to feel better. Awesomeness.

Blastocystys Hominis. That’s the little bastard multiplying inside of me. But hey, like they told me about a hundred times at the clinic, TIG. This Is Guatemala.


(Could not find any good quote about ameba)

The thing that happened on Tajumulco

So, I didn’t quite make it to the top of volcano Tajumulco. Soon you’re going to know why. But I have to warn you first: this story is neither nice nor funny (oh well, certain people might find it funny). It’s also a bit gross, so if you’re about to eat, I suggest you postpone reading this. It’s also kind of private, but since I have no problem with making a fool out of myself in public, I will share the story with you.

My story begins Wednesday morning before the sunrise. We are all packed and ready to go; we need to take two separate buses to reach the point where to start hiking. Tajumulco is Central America’s highest peak and is located close to the Mexican border. So, first we took one chicken bus (these are old school busses from USA which are packed tightly with too many people) for an hour to San Marcos, where we enjoyed our breakfast. After that it was another chicken bus for two hours to Tajumulco.

About an hour on the hike I was feeling really bad, and soon after threw up my breakfast. At that point I already realized I would not be climbing to the peak. Feeling disappointed and nauseas, I started the descent. Wasn’t so easy though, I had to stop to throw up and use the bushes for toilet few times.

But that was nothing compared to total of three hours in a chicken bus. Squeezed tightly on the bench, I threw up like three times on the bus. Luckily I had a plastic bag with me, so I didn’t make a mess. When I finally made it to Xela, it was pouring rain. I was carrying 15 kilos on my back and a bag of vomit in my hand. There are no trash bins in Guatemala: everyone just throws the trash on the streets. But I am a Finn and could not even imagine leaving my vomit on the street (okay, I know many Finns will have no problem with that).

The streets were flooding. Because of the high number of trash on the streets and gutters, the sewage system does not work. So after half an hour of rain the city is flooding like crazy. So there I was, walking in the rain, in the flood, trying to figure out a way to get to my hostel before I needed to throw up again. I did not have enough money for taxi, but I took one anyway.

So, I survived. And I heard stomach problems are very common in Guatemala. It’s how they welcome you: bienvenidos a Guatemala, here’s a stomach bug for you!

Today is good Friday, and Semana Santa (the holy week), which means all places are closed. It’s a very big deal around here. All gringos and young people went to San Pedro for weekend to party. I stayed in my hostel, probably the only one, because my stomach does not let me travel yet.

I found a book on the shelf here that I’ve wanted to read for ages: One hundred years of solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Hopefully I can dive into that one during very calm weekend to come.

Between me being sick and feeling bad I haven’t really had time to feel anything else. So I am not quite yet sure how I feel about being here. It’s exciting, for sure, but I find myself missing home quite often. I miss clean and working bathrooms, healthy food, proper heating system… Just about anything. However the scenery here is breathtaking. And I never expected everything to be so easy. I’ve had it easy for a long time on my travels.

In the midst of these thoughts I realize I want to feel like I belong. I want to feel home. But my home is not necessarily a place somewhere. It’s a feeling. I want to find that feeling.

Volcan Santa Maria

Volcano Santa Maria greeted me with majesty and beauty. With 15 kilos on my back I started to ascend this magnificent mountain. I was hiking with twelve other people, a multicultural group including people from Austria, Sweden, USA, Italy, Israel, Spain and South Korea.

Little did I know what a challenge this volcano would turn out to be for me. If before I have claimed Longs Peak to be physically the most challenging thing I have ever done, compared to Santa Maria that mountain is just walking in the park.

No, Santa Maria is something quite different. She makes you want to catch your breath every other step, she makes you wonder why you ever signed up for something this insane. She also randomly hits people with altitude sickness. I’ve never suffered from altitude before. But hey, I’ve never climbed Santa Maria before.

Let me tell you something; altitude sickness is not nice. Almost halfway up the mountain I felt completely fine, keeping my pace. But then suddenly, out of nowhere, it hit me. I felt really dizzy and disoriented. My vision started to blur and I couldn’t even recognize the people around me. All I could see was bright lights and all I could think of was throwing my guts up.

Luckily, Santa Maria decided, that I would pass the test. Altitude sickness slowly went away and I was able to ascend all the way to the top. And oh man was that worth it!

Now you should know something about Santa Maria. She is not just any volcano. She erupted really badly in 1902, destroying a lot of Xela, the Mayan city next to it. Nowadays it erupts every twenty minutes or so, spitting smoke, gas and lava out. But eruptions are minor, so there is no danger (unless you go too close).

Santa Maria is also a sacred mountain to the Mayans and they often go there to pray, sacrifice chickens – and party. We did not see any sacrificing, but we did experience how the local people spend their nights on Santa Maria – singing, shouting, laughing, banging drums. Pretty much doing anything noisy. And if that hadn’t kept us awake the night, the strong thunder storm with hail would have. Lightings were striking right above our heads.

Early in the morning we woke up to see the sunrise and volcano eruption. It was quite something. And of course the two mountain dogs living there, Santa and Maria, accompanied us our whole time there (especially meal times).

The morning luckily revealed something positive about my fitness; I recover fast. Yesterday’s struggles and nausea was long gone and I didn’t feel the hard exercise at all. I was full of energy and happily almost running down the mountain.