the rest of the trip to San Andrés Itzapa

I decided not to visit the tourist destinations Livingston or Río Dulce, partly because I'd had enough of tourist destinations and partly because I'd heard a couple times that they were fairly dangerous places to be. Which is not to say that they can't be visited safely with basic precautions taken, but I just didn't feel like the bother. So I caught a bus west from the intersection outside Puerto Barrios, towards the capital. On this bus a fellow motioned me to come sit next to him, interested in speaking his basic English with me. He told me his name was Renato, from Italy, had been working on cargo ships for most of his life, and had spent time in Canada and the U.S. I'm amazed by how many people I've met who have worked in the U.S., either legally of illegally, and by how eager they have been to talk to me about it. Renato had been stabbed in Puerto Barrios after telling a thief he didn't have any money, and consequently missed his ship. He was now spending time recovering in a pensión (very cheap hotel) in Bananera, a couple hours ride towards the capital. When he showed me his healing, stitched-up knife wound, I felt even more glad for not having gone through Puerto Barrios to visit Livingston. However I've come to realize that although I face some risks while travelling here, as a white male foreigner with adequate money, I'm safer than any other lone traveler. That I face fewer risks than a solo woman traveler is obvious, especially when I go sharing a room with men I don't really know. That I'm probably safer than latino travelers seems surprising, but I think it's true for a couple reasons. First, I have the money to stay in hotels or families affiliated with the schools I've attended, in safe buildings in the safer parts of town. Additionally, tourism is in the top 3 revenue generators for Guatemala, along with food exports and money sent from family members living in foreign countries. I've heard from a couple local sources that when a local person or latino traveler is assaulted, the police have limited interest, especially if the person is poor. But when a foreigner is attacked, they actually investigate and will try to send someone to jail for it, trying to protect the tourism industry. So if I'm robbed, I've been told repeatedly, just hand over everything the thief wants and I'll be fine. Back to Bananera, where the bus stopped for a rest and I got off with Renato. We went for a beer at an outdoor stand at the bus station. Renato speaks fluent Spanish, and I was a bit of a curiosity in this non-tourist town, and between the two of us we were soon talking to other locals at the cantina. I decided to have another beer, and took my bag off the bus to spend the night in Bananera. Bananera, as the name suggests, is the heart of the Guatemalan banana republic, and the men we talked to here all worked for Del Monte. One fellow who talked a lot told us all about his work, and repeatedly about working 12 hour days without a lunch break. It seemed to me though that the banana workers here were significantly better off than the coffee workers I met in Fátima since the collapse of coffee prices. These workers at least were making the legal minimum wage of Q35/day, and the one I spoke to made Q48 (CDN$8) for each 12/hour day. They have a union, as well. Hanging out with Renato showed me parts of Bananera I wouldn't have seen otherwise - comedores (little restaurants) in people's kitchens where I savoured the wonderful return to fresh corn tortillas and black beans, and a Q15/night pensión. The pensión didn't have any available rooms due to people in town to sell at the weekend markets, so Renato offered to share his room with me, for which the administrator charged me an extra Q15 - a bit excessive I thought, since all they provided me with was a sheet to put on the wood floor to sleep on - however, by this time it was dark and there didn't seem to be a lot of options in town. The room had a single bed and absolutely nothing else inside, and a padlock to lock the door from inside or outside. The shared bathroom consisted of a dirty toilet without paper, and an outside sink. All this was such an exciting and interesting change from the tourist track, even though I didn't sleep very well on the floor with my towel over me as a blanket. The next morning, Renato helped me ask some locals for a cheap bus to the ruins at Quiriguá, between there and the capital. I had no idea what I was getting into. The bus took 3 hours along muddy dirt roads through banana plantations, to reach what would've taken 40 minutes on the highway. But seeing the vast areas of banana trees, bananas covered with plastic bags, with occasional weathered signs warning to be careful of aerial spraying, made it more than worthwhile. I will definitely post some pictures from that trip when I'm able. While asking for directions, a woman in the town of Quiriguá, I got talking for a little while with a woman who told me about her husband being sprayed by an airplane while working, and about both his legs getting broken on the job. I'm repeatedly surprised by how forthcoming various people have been to volunteer their stories of hardship. I don't have much to say about the ruins at Quiriguá at the moment, other than that they were beautiful and that here I saw the first white people I'd seen since La Ceiba, the other side of the ferry ride from Utila. I feel like ruins are better described by pictures... later. Later that day (one week ago), I arrived in San Andrés Itzapa, and found Maya Pedal by asking people on the street if they knew where Mario lived. The first person sent me to the wrong Mario, but that Mario knew the last name of the Mario I wanted. He gave me directions to a non-existent location, but then the next 2 people I asked knew where my Mario lived and helped to get me there. It's a small town, and not visited by many foreigners who aren't here for Maya Pedal. I was thrilled both about the nature of the town, and have my own little room and a kitchen shared with another volunteer, upstairs of a bike and metal workshop. I'm now not totally sure what I think about the relevancy of the project, but still very happy with the living situation and the work. I'm eating at home what are for me the best of Guatemalan food - fresh tortillas, black beans, avacadoes, tomatoes, peas, carrots, ,chiles, pineapples, coconuts, watermelon, other fresh fruit and vegetables from local street vendors, and rice soup with beans and chile. Many of the fresh veggies especially come from small farms immediately surrounding the town, which judging by the worm I found in one cob of corn may be at least partly organic. Anyways, it's delicious. Buenas noches, will write more about here soon.