Pajas

My new favorite Central American Spanish slang word is, paja, a loose translation is, lie although the actual word means straw. How I came to know this word is a funny and pathetic story. Laguna Chicobal, a scared Mayan lake in the middle of a volcanic crater; my lack of physical fitness and some misinformation lead to a very interesting day in the Guatemalan highlands.

The night before, my school had a new student dinner party and many of my fellow Spanish students brought "fire water" (Guatemalan moonshine/everclear like liquor). After many drink offers I finally had some kind of soda and firewater drink and followed that with a small amount of beer. Compared to my fellow students I was taking it easy. In fact, I was thrilled they were drinking the fire water, like...well...WATER! I hoped their impending hangovers would even the physical fitness level for our hike the next morning. Unfortunately, it seems I underestimated the ability of the Swedish to recover from a night of drinking.

When morning came I was the one with a headache, everyone else was fine! My immediate reaction was shock, then as I walked about a mile through Xela to find the "chicken bus" that would take us to, San Martín Sacatepéquez (the village we needed to hike through to get to Chicabol), I realized I was going to have a very hard time keeping up on the hike. I was being out walked in a mostly flat urban environment. The one hour ride on the chicken bus made me sicker and when we finally got off, it was all I could do not to pass out in the middle of the road.

San Martín Sacatepéquez, was a beautiful farming village located on a very steep hillside of the Guatemalan highlands. Getting through the village was painful. Each step uphill felt like I was running a marathon. My breathing was shallow and short. The others flew past me as my slightly nauseous, achy, overweight and asthmatic body fought its way up each progressively steeper hill. At first I was only a small bit behind the group, then further and further until I was so far behind the others had to wait for me. I was by far the week link on the hike.

It was about this time when I started flashing back to the dinner the night before, when so many of the teachers and students at the school were trying reassure me the hike was easy and I should have no problem. I screamed "bull****" towards the sky; causing our guide, Kurt, to look back and notice my struggles. As he walked towards me down the mountain he was yelling words of encouragement, it was nice, but my anger with those who convinced me to do the hike was the only energy getting me up the hill.

With Kurt walking along side me trying to push me to walk faster, I was only angrier still. I asked him and the others to go on ahead. I just needed to do this at my own, less healthy person speed. Kurt refused, I felt guilty for holding the others back and was unsure if I would be able to continue. That's when Kurt taught me, paja. It was the perfect explanation for my frustration with those who pushed me to do the hike. "Chicobal es muy facil", response "ya, paja!" I screamed paja up each of the steep and slippery inclines. I use my anger to get through the village.

Finally, after an excruciating hour or more (it takes a fit person 25-30 minutes) I was through the village and at the base of Chicabol. HA! Pajas! It was an even more difficult and steep climb to the top to the volcano. Then I saw a horse, I joked to Kurt that I should use the horse to climb to the top, Kurt said I probably could negotiate a rental of the horse, although people don't usually do that. Time to test the Spanish skills. Between Kurt and I we negotiate a horse and a guide(young boy to lead the horse - since I didn't know where I was going) for about $12.

I climbed on the horse, Durango, and we began our climb up the mountain to the lake. As I watched Durango fight her way up the mountain I realized how difficult the hike was. There is absolutely no way I could have done it on my own. In fact, the altitude was so high, the air so thin; I was having a hard time breathing while just sitting there on the horse. Once in the crater of the lake. I felt calm. According to the Popul Vu, Mayan creation story, life began in the lake. Walking around the lake many Mayan alters were set up for prayer and people were sitting by the lake praying. It was beautiful.


Back on Durango, I head back out of the crater and down the mountain. Durango was suffering, having problems breathing and walking with me on her back. Eventually, I got off of her and walked alongside to get back down the mountain, all the while thinking. "if this is difficult for a horse that does this climb regularly, I can only imagine how I would have done."

Walking down was more painful than the walk up. Although I could breathe, my knees were taking all the pressure as I worked to walk but not fall down the steep hills. The views as we walked through the village were phenomenal. The people of the village were friendly saying hello as we walked past. Back on the chicken bus I began considering how long the hike would have taken me without the horse, a feeling of sadness over my current state of health set in. I really, thought I had done so much to improve my health in the past year. I realized how much further I still have to go. In pain and exhausted I went home to shower, ice my sore - out of shape self and plan my revenge against those who told me so many pajas about the hike to Laguna Chicobal.