DREAMS…

Over a month ago…

“Paulo boludo,” called Carlos, as I was leaving the Finca Tatin on a launch boat “do you want me to build a massage room for you?”

Surprised by such offer, I shrugged and waved him a hesitant adieu.

Don’t take me wrong. I enjoyed my time at the Finca Tatin. A lot. I met some amazing people. Amazing. I build some cool friendships. Moreover, I learned valuable lessons about launch boats, power generators and solar panels, house building and how to recycle a hell lot of stuff. I read many books and wrote many wee stories on my blog. This place was very inspirational and educational in every single imaginable way.

However, when I left this paradisiacal place, I wasn’t sure to come back. Maybe I’d resume my travels down the Latin continent. Maybe I’d settle down in Guatemala City for a while. Maybe I’d return to Europe. So many maybes. All those thoughts and doubts crossed my mind.

Then the massage course in L.A. (Lake Atitlan) happened. I knew that I was gonna like it but what I didn’t expect was to love it and be really good at it. My teacher told me to get a massage table ASAP and start giving back rubs right left and center.

Present time…

With the help of Maria and Ana, my Guatemalan friends, I bought a cool massage table, oil and sheets.

Been feeding my newly infatuation with lots of cool videos with techniques, tips and procedures from a fantastic massage therapist, MassageNerd.

And, unsurprisingly, I’m back at the Finca Tatin.

I’m glad to be back to something close to my heart, something familiar.

“The strongest instinct in human beings is not survival. Virginia Satir said something to me that has resonated with me for forty years. She asked, "What do you think is the strongest instinct?" Like a robot I responded, "Survival." She said, "No, Richard. The strongest instinct in human beings is the need to look at the familiar.” - wrote the NLP co-creator Richard Bandler in one of his books. I couldn’t agree more.

Also, the massage room is undergoing construction and should be finished soon. In the interim time, I’ve been massaging in some of the oddest places at the Finca:

• At the main wooden dock,
• in the heart of the jungle, next to a water spring (a fantastic and very relaxing spot. The sound of running water is ever sooooo soothing.),
• and, on top of a floating platform in the middle of the river.

     

So, I’ve been performing massages for a while now. I still love it and see myself doing it for a very long time. Isn’t it funny how, if your dream is meant to be, you will always meet people that will help you find your way?

What is your dream?

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~

CASCADITAS…

Me encanta descubrir los sitios más insólitos en donde he vivido. Esos sitios  conocidos apenas por unos o completamente olvidados por la gente. Donde habita el olvido, como cantaría Joaquín Sabina.

En Barcelona, conocía una placita oculta llamada Plaza San Felipe Neri donde los soldados solían fusilar a los guerrilleros durante la sangrienta guerra civil española. Aun se puede ver las abolladuras y huecos en la fachada de una iglesia barroca, el resultado del impacto de tantos disparos. Es un sitio que además de tocar el corazón de uno, también sirve de recuerdo para que jamás olvidemos las atrocidades cometidas durante los conflictos armados.

Ya en Londres, hay una cueva con olor a húmedo y viejo con banquitos y barriles que hacen la vez de mesa. Decenas de velas blancas esparcidas por las paredes y mesas substituyen la electricidad y dan a la cueva un poco de ambiente. Los dos empleados sirven más de 100 vinos directamente del barril y para acompañar, unos quesos buenísimos. El sitio ideal para esos encuentros clandestinos y románticos de media tarde. Afuera, las aglomeraciones de ingleses y turistas bajan y suben la calle ignorando por completo un pequeño letrero anunciando el sitio “Gordon’s Wine Bar”.

Asimismo, cerquita de Ámsterdam, Holanda, hay un lago tranquilo con playa y dunas de arena blanquísima, donde casi nunca hay nadie. A menos de 300 metros esta la carretera principal frecuentada por miles de coches de camino a la playa de zandvoort que llega a abarrotarse de gente que casi no hay sitio para que uno ponga su toalla. De veras, ¿donde preferís estar?

En Guatemala, existen miles de sitios desconocidos (o olvidados) incluso por los chapines. Sigo en la Finca Tatin, Livingston y hoy día, después de la comida, decidimos asomarnos al Rio Lámpara con la esperanza de encontrar un manantial y una cascada, que según los que la habían visitado, era pequeña pero divina.

El Rio Lámpara es un brazo del Rio Dulce,  y igual que su hermano mayor, cuenta con varias familias indígenas como inquilinos y varios cayucos cruzando sus aguas. A una primera vista los dos ríos parecen iguales, no obstante no lo son. Mientras que en Rio Dulce hay un montón de lanchas, yates y cayucos pa arriba y pa abajo, el Lámpara nos dio la bienvenida con sus aguas limpias e inmóviles. Subiendo su caudal, mirando a los lados, nos deparamos con márgenes vacías y verdes y fue imposible no llenarnos de una sensación de paz y tranquilidad.

Llegamos a una zona donde el barco, debido a la poca profundidad, no podía avanzar más y nos bajamos de la lancha y empezamos la caminata hacia la cascada.

Veinte minutos después llegamos a nuestro destino. Una cascada chica pero muy hermosa.

 

Éramos los únicos visitantes, así que inmediatamente nos quitamos la ropa y nos tiramos a las aguas cristalinas.

Este sitio esta como olvidado pues sé muy bien que no vienen tours organizados ni está en las guías turísticas, así que empezaré a traerle visitas, no obstante tengo que asegurarme de no contaminarlo con mucha gente (¿Os diste cuenta de lo que pasó con el Lago Atitlan?)

Asi que “Shhhhh …¿podéis guardar un secreto?...”

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~

…SOMETHING REAL…

What do you do when your hard drive fails? You go mental, right?

I haven’t updated this space in a long time mainly due to not having a working hard drive. One day it started shooting out “I/O access” errors then, next thing I know it would blatantly refuse to boot up.

Finally, after a couple of weeks of scratching my head, I managed to repair it. Thus, my system is working again but all data was lost.

I had many unfinished blog posts - they just needed some last minute editing and bits of TLC - but they’re gone now. If I were somewhere else, I would have lots of spare time to redo them. Not here, not now. I’ll see if I can fill that gap somehow.

…

A few weeks ago, I wrote an entry labeled “Where is the real Caribbean?” Click here to revisit it.

http://pauloishere.blogspot.com/2009/10/caribbean.html

Daniela, a cool Italian girl emailed me recently informing me that she has found the “Real Caribbean” down in Nicaragua and although a) it is far away, b) difficult to get to (by plane only) and c) it rains a lot, Corn Islands are everyone’s dream place.

Stubborn as I am, I maintain what I stated previously – there are no Caribbean beaches in Guatemala not up the Belizean Coast – so the nearest and truly amazing white sandy beaches are the isles officially known as Sapodilla Cayes.

Well, turns out that Carlos, the owner of the Finca Tatin, Livingston, Guatemala, used the above little story to promote his new “Belizean Cayes Boat Trip”. Escorted by a group of seven curious tourists (plus a baby), he asked me to come along (free of charge, of course!)

With a busy agenda filled with snorkel, snorkel, snorkel and even more snorkel…, the seven tourists (Mercedes, Javier, Lorenzo, Laura, Jake, Agustina and Alfonso), the baby (Sunny), the Finca Tatin owner (Carlos), the captain (El Enano / The midget) and yours truly, hopped on a large launch boat with a 200 horsepower engine and set sail towards our paradisiacal Cayes. 

With such horsepower - the difference is ever so noticeable - we crossed the waters smoothly & rapidly and in less than 60 minutes, we spotted the small archipelago, sitting on the distant horizon line, waiting for our entourage.

And as soon as our lancha passed the first islet (Ragged Caye), several cameras started recording the event.

Had to do a quick stop at the Nicholas Caye to pay the Marine Reserve entry fee ($10 per person).

 

Back on the boat, and surrounded by natural beauty, every single one of us was gagging for a bit of snorkeling already. Thus, even before we set foot on what would be our Caye for the night, we dressed down to our swimming suits, put on a pair of goggles & fins and jumped in the water.

 

The sun was hot, the sea water was just perfect, the coral reef was colourful and the rest is … just stories narrated via the four hundred photos taken swimming underwater, catching our dinner, strolling down white sandy beaches, getting attacked by sand flies, swinging on hammocks, etc.

 

  

C L I C K  H E R E  T O  S E E  A L L  P H O T O S!

Twenty four hours later, tired but very pleased, we were heading back to Livingston, Guatemala, knowing that we all took part of something amazing…something REAL...something Caribbean.

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~

…BE VERY CAREFUL…

Third day of the massage course in the New Agey village of San Marcos, Lake Atitlan. We spent all day yesterday on the lower body so today we moved up the body towards the upper limbs.

“People love to have their feet massaged,” stated Ito, our massage teacher, “but you have to keep in mind that twenty years ago they were all carpenters and builders, nowadays they’re all pen pushers and keyboard jockeys sitting behind computers desks, so when you get to massage their hands and arms, uffffff, if you do it the proper way, man, you will see some happy faces. Then, when you do their head and neck you’ll get people going like Oooooooooo. Finally, you’ll rub their scalp and faces, sending some of them Aaaaaaaaahhhhh vibrations down their whole bodies.”

“You have to be very careful, otherwise you’ll have people stalking you and asking for massages.” warned Ito with a very serious look, and then he burst on laughter.

For the next three hours, Chris and I took turns repeating all the movements learned on Ito’s head and neck until he was content with the result. For a moment, I thought that he was using us to get rid of all tensions that he carried with him.

When Ito was finally ready for another of his speeches, my exhausted hand and arms couldn’t have been more thankful.

“You already have the full body routine. Previous students took longer to learn what you learned in three days. Well done chicos! Now, you only need some pose tweaking and to fine tune your technique. That’s it, you’re ready guys! But don’t fret, there’s still three days to go. If that’s ok with you, you’ll do two to three massages a day. I’ll just get lots of people so you guys can practice on.”

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~

LOS PIES SIEMPRE ME HAN DADO…

“Ahora haremos un trabajo profundo, un deep tissue. Con los pulgares, subes la espalda del paciente, presionando con fuerza hasta encontrar unos puntitos, los trigger points. Lo sentirás pues el paciente brinca o sientes algo como una bolita. Hmmm. Hmmm. ¡Pero este carajo no tiene ninguno! ¡Cabrón esta relajado!”

Segundo día de mi cursito de masaje en San Marcos de la Laguna, Lago Atitlan. Ayer aprendí mitad de la secuencia para la espalda. Hoy terminamos la espalda, bajamos un poco hacia los glúteos y a continuación, nuestro profe Ito, nos enseño una serie completa de movimientos para los pies y piernas. En la espalda, nos explicó como quitar las tensiones más comunes de los mochileros, no obstante, en mi no encontró nada.

“¡Este cabrón esta relajado!”, Ito repetía, “La mayoría de la gente que hace este curso tiene la espalda lastimada por el stress, han estado cargando sus mochilas pesadísimas, han dormido en el piso de una estación de bus o en una cama malísima, pero vos no tienes nada de tensión. Estoy buscando y no encuentro nada. ¿Como lo haces vos?”

Luego bajo a los pies, acción la cual causó una mueca en la cara de Chris, mi compañero de masaje.

“Los pies siempre me han dado asco”, dijo Chris.

Sin embargo, rápidamente cambio de opinión cuando le tocó a él.

“Si si continua, eso me gusta. Me encanta eso en la planta del pie.”

Ito y yo nos echamos a risas.

Finalmente Ito subió por la pierna, y nos explicó las lesiones mas frecuentes de la gente que suele aventurarse a escalar los volcanes de Guatemala.

Terminada la sesión, nos invitó a comer a su casa. Ito vive con su novia y su hija en una construcción, aun por terminar (encontramos el albañil haciendo algo en una rincón), de bambú y cristal.

Nos sentamos a la mesa y degustamos un delicioso manjar de  cuscús, frijolito blanco, banano cocido, arroz con frijol negro, verdura y ensalada.

“Ya extrañaba una comida casera, ufff” confesaba Chris, sobando la barriga en círculos “estoy súper lleno.”

Después de la comilona apenas tenía ganas de echarme una siesta, ese invento extraordinario que a todos nos gusta, seamos ancianos o niños chiquitines.

Ufffff.

 

Mañana nos toca los brazos, el cuello y por último la cabeza. El resto de los días será practicar el masaje completo del cuerpo, corregir nuestros errores y posturas y mejorar nuestra técnica.

¿Quien se apunta?

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~

MASSAGE DAY

What happens if you wake up a given day, say, a Monday morning, and decide to overuse a muscle of your body, say, your right arm? It gets sore, right? The guys amongst us know the result.

Well, yesterday, my German friend Chris and I decided to hire this Costa Rican dude called Ito to initiate us in the holistic arts of massages & backrubs.

So today, Monday morning at it happens, we took the launch boat from San Pedro to San Marcos (10 Quetzals) and strolled up the dirt paths of the tiny village until we were standing outside the San Marcos Holistic Centre.

Inside, Ito, our trainer and masseur was eagerly waiting for us to start. We were chit-chatting when a tall American girl joined us. Ito introduced her as Jessie and started our first lesson by informing that she would be his guinea pig for the training session ahead of us. For us it meant that we would be able to see his technique in action, for her it meant a free full body massage. I guess that we call a win-win situation.

We walked behind him towards his studio, a tiny but very cosy room on the second floor of the main building. Inside, the place felt rather cramped with a huge massage table, two chairs and the four of us standing but Ito quickly changed the atmosphere by giving us his unique take on massage therapy.

“Intent and present”, he said, “If you don’t have any intent and you’re not present, in the moment, HERE NOW, you can’t give a good massage. It will show to your client or patient that your mind is elsewhere.”, he continued, “I’ve been doing this for fifteen years and I love massaging and teaching it. It’s my life. When a client selects me to give him a massage, I will firstly sit down with him and ask his reasons for being here. Secondly I ask if he has any tension in a specific part of his bodies and find out if he’s had a massage before. If he says “Yes” I’ll say “that’s cool, you know what to expect”. If he says “No” I will gently remind him to breathe at all times, as it will help to relax. Then I say what I consider the most import thing in the interaction “I trust that you know more about your body than me. I trust that you’re aware of what is good for you. I trust that you understand that this experience is for you. So you can choose to express yourself during the massage or can choose to be silent. The responsibility is yours.” Lastly, before I lay the client on the massage table I will ask him if he has any questions.”

Finishing his spiel, Ito proceeded to walk-the-walk and, with our constant prying eyes over his shoulders, he gave Jessie the massage of her life. He rubbed her whole body starting on her back, moving down her arms and hands then changed to her feet and legs then finished with her neck and head.

During the session, Chris and I crossed our glances a few times, reassuring one another that we’ve selected an amazing masseur and teacher.

When Ito was done, he silently asked us to go outside with him leaving Jessie to get dressed. We talked about his technique, his breathing and most importantly - according to him - his stance.

“If you don’t stand properly, you’re the one who will need a massage afterwards!”

A few minutes later, Jessie exited the room and joined us. The expression on her face was of pure bliss.

“That was the best massage ever. Thank you Ito.”

Ito sent Jessie on her way then rubbing his hands, turned to us.

“Who’s ready for learning massage?”

For the remaining ninety minutes, Ito showed us a back rub sequence, tweaked our moves, corrected our mistakes, fixed our postures, gave us some amazing suggestions and answered all our questions patiently.

When he felt that the sequence taught was second nature for us, he left us to practice it on one another for another hour.

Afterwards, tired and hungry we got down to the dock and took a boat back to San Pedro de la Laguna.

We will pay 1500 Quetzals each for the privilege of learning with Ito, and if the remaining sessions are anything like today, it is money very well spent.

After a remarkable day, I can barely write as both of my hands, wrists and forearms are ever so sore.

So, what happens if you wake up a given day, say, a Monday morning, and decide to overuse a muscle of your body…?

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~

CAMERAS

I can write and describe a scene taking place before my eyes all day long, but a photo, at times, explains it better than any fancy adjective. When I left Mexico, sometime in June, I went in a pawn shop and purchased a really cool photo camera, an Olympus Stylus 790 SW, shock proof AND water proof. I was delighted with my new toy.

Then, in my second week at the Finca Tatin, an accident happened. The camera stopped working, after getting into the river with its battery latch open. I tried to save the soaking wet toy by placing it in a dry area and by putting it in a bowl filled with rice, amongst other crazy suggestions. My attempts were futile because the battery charger decided to give up as well, just like that. No charger and no camera.

From that moment on, all the photos that I’ve been able to post here have been generously given by Finca Tatin guests and fellow travellers. Thank you all.

Until now that is. Today, I found a universal charger and decided to charge the dead battery up. Just in case.

Two hours after, I placed the battery in the camera and Eureka!, it worked. Although, the shutter ain’t closing and the zoom seems to blur everything, the fact that matters is that I have a camera for photo shooting my days once again.

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~

¿DONDE ESTÁN LOS PORTUGUESES?

“Eres da Madeira nao?”

En los ocho meses transcurridos desde que dejé Europa, tras pasar mi última semana en Barcelona con mi bella (ex) novia y tras encontrarme nuevamente a bordo de un avión que me llevaría al otro lado del charco, he estado trotamundeando y me crucé con tantísima gente de las más variadas procedencias. Sin embargo, no conocí a nadie oriundo de mi isla, Madeira ni mucho menos de Portugal. Ni Carlos, que lleva en la Finca Tatín más de 10 años, ha conocido más de dos chicos de Portugal, y uno era yo.

“Sim. Sou da ilha.”

Recuerdo muy bien, un día en Madeira, acudí a una librería y me fijé en la sección de Historia de Portugal. Una estantería repleta de cientos de tomos, de  textos y obras, volúmenes de todos los tipos y tamaños, con relatos de viajantes lejos de sus tierras, de hombres de mar, que dejando sus amadas y seres queridos, navegaron en galeones durante meses rumbo a la esperanza de descubrir tierras antes inexploradas.

“Estao viajando?”

“Sim. Temos um mes para conhecer Guatemala.”

Al despedirme de mi novia en Europa, sentí en mi cuerpo lo que seguramente otros portugueses también lo sintieron en sus anteaños: Una declaración, un ultimátum “si yo me iba, significaría el fin de lo nuestro.”

Sin querer, queriendo, me encuentré repitiendo la historia de mis antepasados - lo tendré en mis genes – Y empecé mi peregrinaje, con cierta aprensión al desconocido, pero con la ilusión, la curiosidad de vivirlo, de sentirlo, de descubrirlo y de conocerlo.

“Neste mundo somos todos peregrinos.”

“Eh verdade.”

Debido a la notoriedad de viajantes que tienen los portugueses esperaba encontrar montones de ellos en este viaje. Pero la verdad es que hasta ahora ¡ninguno! ¿Donde andan mis paisanos? Después de tantos siglos en vidas sedentarias ¿será que perdieron las ganas de viajar? ¿Tendrán miedo o es que no me he cruzado con ellos?

Estoy seguro que les encantaría Guatemala pues es un país hermosísimo.

Estoy seguro que les encantaría haber llegado ayer conmigo a San Pedro de la Laguna, un pueblito del Lago Atitlan.

Estoy seguro que les encantaría haber cogido la lancha esta mañana y estar paseando conmigo por estos senderitos de San Marcos de la Laguna.

Estoy seguro que les encantaría cruzarse con otros dos turistas con aire de perdidos.

“Hola. ¿Qué tal es este pueblo? ¿Donde está en caminito para el centro?”

Noté un acentito de veras familiar.

“¿De donde son vosotros dos?” – pregunté.

“¡De Portugal! ¿Y tú?”

“Adivina adivinador…”

…

La primera vez en meses que encuentro otros portugueses.

Cuanto a mi ex, me contó que sufrió mucho cuando me fui. No obstante, han pasado tantos meses y el tiempo lo cura todo ¿verdad? Sé que ahorita está bien. Sé que tiene un novio que la ama un montón. Sé que está cumpliendo su sueño de tener una familia. Sé que juntos intentan salir adelante. Y eso me alegra.

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~

CHICHICASTENANGO

Upon arriving at the small village, a tour guide pointed out a parking space for the car then suggested us to check out the most colourful native market in the Americas and the Church of Santo Tomás, located on the main square.

“The Mayan Shamans are performing their rituals inside the church.” he said.

Expecting to see a chicken being executed, Yaqui, her son Pablo and I, jogged down the old cobblestone streets, dodging the people walking in all directions, dodging the vendors trying to sell us their goods.

Reaching the main square, I immediately felt as if I was in a different place, in a different time, in some sort of fantasy land. Before me, in an amazing and perfect blend of colours, the church steps were populated with the Mayans and their flowers.

 

On top of it, the ancient Church stood strong, omniscient even, as if blessing the natives & tourists down below, on their selling and buying.  

I walked in the church and found it empty. Maybe the ceremony is over.

Stepping out the church, I hear my name. There were two guys at the bottom of the square waving their arms at me.

I recognised them as Oren and Roy, two cool Israelis that have been to Finca Tatin last week. We quickly hugged.

“Oh my God, Paulo, when we stayed at the finca, we really thought you were Mogli, the jungle boy. You always had nothing more than a pair of shorts. Now, you have a T-shirt, jeans AND a pair of shoes! Wow.”

“I know man, I can adapt to the city dress code! What about you guys? Bought anything here yet?”

“No way. Everything is too expensive, man!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Everybody is quoting us 200 Quetzals or more. There’s nothing cheaper than that!”

I bumped into a elder man.

“Perdone.”

He smiled and continued on his way.

“Paulo, you said “perdone”. I though the right one was “perdón”?”, said Oren.

“Hmm. Guys, as far as I know, you use “Perdone/Perdóneme" when you want to say “I am sorry” to one person. I only really use “Perdón” when I want to be acknowledged or served in a shop or a bar.”

“Ah. Muy bien pendejo maricon!” said Roy and the three of us just laughed.

They had to head back, so we said our farewells with the promise to meet again somewhere else in Guatemala.

Yaqui, Pablo and I went through the small streets browsing at the variety of colours and their beautifully crafted souvenirs, clothes, pottery, medicinal plants, candles, copal incense, limestone for tortillas, pigs, machetes, etc. There was even a stall selling tortillas of all colours and the oldest machine to crush ice.

This is definitely the most colourful native market that I’ve seen to.

I was looking for a simple woollen bag, like a day bag to carry my stuff but couldn’t find one that I liked. Suddenly, when I was losing hope, I saw the one I was looking for. I asked how much and was told 50 Quetzals. I put my hand into my jeans pockets and pulled out its contents.

“15 Quetzals. That’s all I have.”

“No. Give me 30.”

“I honestly don’t have anything else. I’m sorry.” I started walking away but she pulled my arm.

“OK. Give me the 15.”

“Gracias.”

Where’s my Israeli friends? I need to give them a lesson on haggling - Not really. I would have paid a bit more if I had more quetzals in my pocket - But I didn’t.

Started pouring so Yaqui said we should be heading back to the car. We hopped on a Tuk-tuk (3Qz per person) and the driver rode the streets quickly to where Yaqui parked her car.

Changed vehicles, said good bye to the beautiful village of Chichicastenango and commenced our 3 hour drive back to the capital of Guatemala.

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~