I saw one of the coolest things I've ever seen in my life today. And, as seems to fit the ground rules of my trip, I didn't have my camera. Actually I had it, but the disk inside was full. I'd forgotten to change it. So again I find myself describing an experience that really needs some photos. For starters, you can try here for a crappy photo of what I did today.

I got up at 5:00 am... I'm sure waking up my Guatemalan family wondering what the hell I was doing. I got on my rented bike and met two guys to head to the dormant volcano Santa Maria, a few miles from town. Aaron of previous entry fame was one of our group... the other was Bram, a Dutch guy who cycled here from Los Angeles. I kid you not. It was insanely cold... even colder with the wind blowing on the bike. In lieu of gloves I wore running socks on my hands.

"We immediately got lost."
We rode through the darkness to the little village about 45 minutes outside town and just under Santa Maria. After we found the touchingly nice old local man who charges about 50 cents to watch your bike for the day, we headed into the hills. We immediately got lost.

This shouldn't be so tough. As you may have seen from the photo, Santa Maria is a perfect cone of a mountain. It's not too tough to see where the top is. But we wandered onto some old dirt road to the wrong side of it. After re-discovering the trail, we headed up. Before long I was hurting. See, switchbacks are these zig-zag paths that go up steep mountains. In addition to allowing a gradual ascent of the hill, they reduce erosion. They have not gotten much press here. The trail on this mountain went straight up. Add to that the fact that we were at about 8,000 to 9,000 feet and you can see why I got a little tuckered out.

"Shortly after we arrived it erupted."
The view from the top, though is simply amazing. There's a postcard of it in a local bookstore and I may just shoot a photo of that to show you. The mountains and volcanoes of Guatemala's highlands run off to one side and the Pacific slope goes west to the ocean, which you can just make out. But most amazing... directly below, right in front of you, is another volcano. An active one. Shortly after we arrived it erupted.

Anyone as non-volcano savvy as me may be a bit concerned by this, but it happens literally every day. From the top of our mountain we looked right into the big crater at the top of the volcano. All of a sudden we see smoke and ash start to come from the center and parts of the slope. Then we heard the roar start and a huge mushroom-like cloud shoot into the air. Had the wind been blowing the other way it would have engulfed us on the summit. But it just harmlessly floated the other way. Very impressive.

"The singing and clapping I initially mistook for a jet ski."
I was also impressed by the number of people at the top. There were families, groups of friends... and from the singing and clapping I initially mistook for a jet ski... an entire church choir. It was a Sunday, so I guess lots everyone was out for the afternoon. But how some of these folks got to the top I dunno. I'm not in as good of shape as Bram, the cycling Dutchman... but I'm better off than most. If I wanted to puke halfway up, how did these entire families plod their way up. You wouldn't see this at home... unless there were a ski lift, incline railroad or convenient shuttle to the top.

Then there was what I'll call the Indiana Jones incident. We're sitting there just down from the summit quietly pondering how cool it all is when we hear the distant roar of what sounded like a bus or truck. It gets louder and louder till I start thinking there must actually be a convenient shuttle. Now is where the Indiana Jones moment begins. You know the little kid that always is yelling "Indie!!! Indie!!!" He comes running over the top of the hill pointing in the air and yelling "Avionetta!!! Avionetta!!!" Then in a moment straight from the classic Harrison Ford trilogy, a yellow single engine aircraft soars over the summit no more than thirty feet in the air. Some people ducked. Just a bit of a down draft would have put this guy straight into the hill. But nobody's ever accused the Guatemalans of being overly cautious when it comes to transportation.

"Yes. Marimba."
So about that Guatemalan family I'm living with till Saturday. They're extremely nice if not overly gregarious, but I guess it's hard to maintain gregariousness with somebody who doesn't speak your language. I don't know if this constitutes irony, but it's certainly coincidental that the dad is a radio DJ. He spins CD's for the local marimba station. Yes. Marimba. I think that's just down the dial from the Best Mix of the 80's, 90's and Today. So we talked about broadcasting until my Spanish completely gave out and we ended our conversation in the way so many of my Spanish conversations end... with uncomfortable silence and a lack of Spanish words coming from my mouth.

It's interesting how similar they are to a typical middle class American family. Two teenagers and a nine-year-old. They have televisions, a computer and a Nintendo. If their address didn't end in "Guatemala" you might mistake them for an urban family anywhere in the US or Europe.

So tomorrow morning I begin some serious Spanish classes. We'll see if my uncomfortable conversations get any better.