…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 ~

PAELLA

Ya extrañaba mucho la Paella De Domingo. Bueno, aunque hoy no sea domingo, podemos pensar que si. Con esa idea en la mente, Carlos se fue de lancha a Livingston y a la vuelta trajo pollo, calamares y jaibas. No encontró gambas ni ningún otro crustáceo pero yo pudo improvisar con los ingredientes disponibles. A las 6 de la tarde empecé mi tarea en una sartén enorme y una hora después empezamos a servir la cena.

¡La Paella!

¡Paulo posando con su obra! ¡Ah! Y Wilmer sirviendola.

Los huéspedes posando y disfrutando de la comilona.

¡Llenos y satisfechos! ¿Hora del cafecito?

Todos los presentes que comieron el special arroz de Paulinho, lo repitieron pues estaba buenísimo. La verdad es que la paella me salió perfesto…

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~

LA LLORONA

“Paulo, what is “La Llorona”?”

“La Llorona? Well, every country has an urban legend of some sort. A lot of people believe it, others think it’s all Bulls***. An example would be a woman killed from bites of spiders nesting in her hair.

La Llorona, means “The Wailing Woman”. It’s a Mexican story and goes like this:

“Once a Spanish soldier married a beautiful native woman and they had two children whom the soldier loved very much. However, the soldier came from a rich family. His parents and relations disapproved of his wife and threatened to disown him unless he married a Spanish woman. Not wishing to lose his inheritance, the soldier put away his native wife and sent for a bride from Spain.

The soldier's wife was filled with a terrible, jealous rage. To revenge herself against her unfaithful husband, she drowned their two children in the river. The soldier was horrified when he heard what she had done, and tried to have her arrested. But his wife, driven insane by rage, jealousy, and guilt, escaped into the wilds. She roamed through the land, searching the waterways for her children. But she could not find them. Her spirit still searches, wailing in guilt and grief, condemned forever to search in vain because of her terrible deed.”

Is it a true story or? You decide. The story serves to scare kids and adults alike. The fact that matters is that a lot of people swear that they’ve seen La Llorona somewhere. You must have a similar folk tale in your country.”

“Hmmm, don’t think so. I can’t think of anything. What about you Paulo? Do you have scary tales from Portugal?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. There’s the story about the “Rapariga da curva”, the girl from the curve. You can get the video of the people that died on youtube.”

“Tell us!”

“Right. Three friends have been driving in the night. They were heading to some country village but took the wrong turn somewhere and ended up getting lost. One of the guys, sitting on the back seat filmed the whole ordeal with his video camera. His friends kept on telling him to switch the thing off but he kept on filming.

Then, on this particular pitch black road with no one around, they saw a girl just standing on the side of the road. The driver decides to stop and help the girl. He asked if she wanted to be taken home. She gets in the car, put her head down and sat in silence. The other passengers asked if she wanted water or something else. Oh yeah, everytime the guy pointed his camera at the girl, the image would flicker.

Suddenly, the girl stood her arm out pointing to the road ahead and said “THERE!”

The guys asked “What? There where? What you’re saying?”

Still pointing her arm, she said “There was an accident on that curve and someone died”

“Who died? How do you know?”, the camera guy points the camera at her and sees her ghostly white face.

“I WAS THE ONE WHO DIED!”, she screams and then the car crashes.”

...

“That’s a scary story Paulo!”

…

The amateur video is here. Watch it if you dare...

 

 

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~

CARIBBEAN

“Where is the Caribbean? You know, endless white sand, coconut trees and pristine turquoise waters that you see on the travel brochures?”

“You ain’t gonna find it around here, Barbara!”

A lot of travellers come to this side of Guatemala looking for a white beach. Actually, not ANY white beach, but THE white beach, the one we’ve all seen in a photoshopped picture in some travel brochure or in some movie/documentary a long time ago; THE white beach that fills our daydreams every time we hear “Caribbean” or “Sex-on-the-beach” cocktails.

I’ve learned that, sadly, there are no white Caribbean beaches over here or even up the coast of Belize. The last ones were bought up and turned into five stars resorts, so one needs to fork out loadsa money to visit them.

There is a glimpse of hope – again, money talks louder than words - in the form of tiny little Cayes (islands) scattered not very far from the Guatemalan coast.

Chilling on white sandy beaches, swimming on turquoise water, snorkeling in a coral barrier reef. The best part? No houses, no hotels and no one around you, but your five or six fellow travellers. Sleeping? Rudimentary camping tents or hammocks.

…

  

 

  

photos kindly provided by Elena & Sandra.

…

As I explained it to Barbara, her eyes started dilating with optimism.

“How much, Paulo?”

“One day tour, leaving on a lancha boat at 8am & returning at 3pm will cost you 50 USD or 100 USD for an overnight stay.”

“100? Wow! That’s like a week’s budget for a traveller like me.”

“Well Barbara, it all depends on how much you really want to go to the Caribbean. Do you want to keep on looking at the pretty pictures and daydream about them or do you actually want to turn that daydream into something special, something…REAL?”

...

Ciao 4 now

~ Paulo ~