…….. and maybe a little remiss in not posting this note earlier.

I’ve heard directly from some of you who I know are regularly out there reading.  It’s a rather oddly affirming thing to think about how people are out there watching the goings on of the world and think of me.  And wondering, and maybe waiting to hear. (see remiss above)

I was literally on the last flight to leave for a US destination before the borders were closed.  It was a chaotic and expensive exit.  And I left with a great feeling of sadness.  It’s always been a mixed emotions experience for me to leave Guatemala and come home to MN.  But I always get to the point where I’m starved to be around my kids and see my friends.  This year Covid-19 changed all of the circumstances.

My last Sunday in Santa Ana the bell did not ring for mass.  The weekly Processions of Lent, and the daily ones during Semana Santa had been cancelled.  The spiritual effects of that aside, the economic effects on average Guatemalans will be catastrophic and long in how it lingers.  As I sat having coffee that last Sunday, looking out on emptiness where usually there was the teem of thousands of visitors, I was fighting back tears.  Renato and I were texting back and forth.  Usually on Sunday mornings I meet the family for mass at the Cathedral and then we go out or go back to their house for breakfast.  I was in a fight to keep my mood from completely tanking.

Renato, to his credit, had been encouraging me to go home for about ten days.  He kept saying, this is going to get really weird, and he was exactly right.  It did.

From all of this I have one useful tip to pass on.  If you are going to be in a foreign country for any length of time, week or more, register with the US Embassy.  An alert from the Embassy was the earliest notice of impending border closures.  Because I’m not a person who digests a lot of news or social media, this was a difference maker for me in getting out of Dodge.

So now I’m back in my living room in St. Paul, safe and sound, boy there’s a relative term, and experiencing the self imposed distancing that we all are hopefully practicing.  I can tell you it’s pretty frustrating to not see my kids for some months, only to come home and still not be able to gather with them.  Then I think of my friends who have kids that live elsewhere in the country and I jerk my perspective back where it belongs.

Now, more than ever, I leave you with, I am well and hope you all are too.

It’s actually very early on Day 4 and I’m up again avoiding the bandwidth crowds.  As I’m trying to work on my site when others are around, especially dealing with the pictures, I can look around, and sure ’nuff, there are people watching Netflix or youTube.  C’mon people, there’s important blogging going on here! 🙂   Truth, I just have a different version of hogging the bandwidth.  It’s all hoggin’.  But I digress.

Later today I’ll be heading back to Antigua and I’m ready.  This has been a great place to relax and see a new area of Guatemala, but a guy can take just so much of being confined by downpours.  Luckily I’ve had Louise along with me, so that’s helped.  Wait! What? Whose Louise?

In the quiet this morning, (Day 3), I spent some time with these guys. In past days I learned they wouldn’t let me get too close, so these pics are zoomed all the way.  And it was raining, big shock, so I had to stay under the roof.

When they finally took off I was just happy to get them in the frame even though between the panning and the zoom they’re a little blurry.

Here’s just a few more shots I’ve taken in past days while passing the time.

I had to share this one ’cause when I looked at it I just laughed out loud.  Look at the side of the boat.  Obviously my panning skills need some work.  On the far right of this shot is a brand new section of rooms that will be open for guests soon.  It’s built right out over the water.

Dried fish anyone?  I’m told by one of the kids who works here these are called salt fish.  He eats some almost every morning with eggs and beans.  I’ve never seen salt fish actually identified on a menu, so I’m just going to continue to wonder where they end up.

Wish me luck on my launch ride back to Puerto Barrios.  See ya.           Wait.  Who is Louise?

The day dawned with the skies unchanged from yesterday.  The sky out over the Caribbean stayed dark, and wave after wave of heavy rains came ashore.  Only those who had to leave ventured off in a water taxi.  I was hoping for a trip down the Rio Dulce but didn’t want to go so bad that I’d venture out from under the thatched roof in a downpour.  Everyone else around was of a similar mind so the wifi slowed to a crawl while everyone did the same thing.  I passed the time drinking coffee, reading, and shooting a few pics of Casa Rosada.  I’m hoping for a different result tomorrow with my eye on a boat trip to Playa Blanca and the Seven Alters area.  Meanwhile today I’ll get out for a walkabout around Livingston if the weather gives me that at least.

Here’s the kitchen of the hotel and below is the little hallway where my room is situated.  Mine is down on the corner to the right.  B6 if you’re sending me a postcard.

The weather is what it is.  Right now the word is it will clear on Thursday, the day I’m leaving.  The silver lining there is I might get on the plane relatively dry.  The next time I come I’ll bring a big garbage bag to cut holes in.  I’m surprised someone isn’t making a killing selling them one at a time.  I did see some plastic raincoats in town today.  Maybe I’ll pick one of those up.  In a fetching yellow or orange.  Speaking of which, I did make my escape for a walkabout in the afternoon.

The three most prominent buildings in Livingston are the hospital, pictured here to the right, and the municipal building and the school, seen below.  The hospital had a big Covid-19 warning and instruction sign on the side.  Or is that Covid-9?  You know that carrona  thing you’ve probably heard about.  I’ve already been warned that if Guatemala experiences an outbreak, I might get stuck here awhile.  I don’t want to sound cavalier but there could be worse things.  Than getting stuck here I mean.

There didn’t seem to be much happening at the school at 2:30 in the afternoon. ?  Or the hospital or city offices for that matter.                     Renato, among others,  had recommended I try a dish called Topada Garifuna, so a stop at a place called Buga Mama’s became the highlight of my walkabout.  Topada is a seafood soup.  The broth is made with coconut cream but it doesn’t have an overwhelming coconut taste.  The soup is full of veggies, shrimp in the shell, crab in the shell, plantains, and one whole fish.  If you don’t like to have a fish looking at you while you eat it, you have to be careful to keep the eyes “below the water line” so to speak.  Now I’m not an experienced  in the shell seafood eater.  But I went into attack mode and when I was finished I had a massive pile of bones, shells, and pinchers.  And I was giving thanks for the recommendation.  Oh man it was good.  Incidentally,  Buga Mama’s is a school teaching cooking and hospitality.  All of the kids working there are students.

While I was eating I was overlooking one of the local gas stations.  Boats, Tuk tuks, scooters, and cars all coming and going.

I’ve written about public pilas before.  Here is the local public do it yourself laundry in Livingston.

And lastly, a dose of reality; someone’s house and bathroom not far down the road from La Casa Rosada.

I am well and hope you all are too.  As always, thanks for being out there.

This is another part of Guatemala that I have not yet seen, the Caribbean side of the country.  Here’s a bit of good news, one can fly to Puerto Barrios from Guatemala City for not much more than you’d pay for one of those patented eight hour shuttle rides.  Not a hard choice.  It takes forty five minutes.

The day started with a fizzle.  We were sitting in the plane on the tarmac, when instead of a seat belts and tray tables announcement, we got an everybody off.   A tropical storm was blowing right through Puerto Barrios, (henceforth known as PB), and they wanted us to hold takeoff until further instructions.  An hour and some change later we left.  When we got to PB it was pouring rain.  I’m talkin’ torrential.  Ok, here’s where I remind you that this is not the size town and airport with jetways.  I was soaked before I even got to the terminal.  Well to be fair, everyone was.  That was only the beginning.  This is the street outside the municipal boat docks.

If you look on a map, both PB and Livingston, my final destination, are situated in a fairly large bay.  There are no roads to speak of connecting any of the towns along the coast.  Travel is all by boat.  See where I’m going with this?

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t venture out on today’s swells in a launch twice the size of these water taxis.  But hey, what do I know.  Well, actually, I know you try to get in the middle of the seat.  Not in the front but close to it.  There were two young mothers with young boys loading right by me, so chivalry won out.  Oh, did I mention that while we were waiting to leave it was not raining.  But just as we were loading, …………… 😉     Here’s a word picture for ya.  Remember those Gallagher shows where everyone in the first several rows had big sheets of plastic they held in front of themselves.  When they broke out the sheets of plastic, the two moms, between their English and my Spanish, coached me through what was happening.  If you’re in an outside seat, all your best efforts go for naught.  Forty minutes of bouncing on the swells in driving rain and before long I was sitting in water trying to decide which was better, protecting my face or protecting my stuff.  I chose my stuff which was also for naught.  Luckily my laptop compartment is waterproof, but the rest of the backpack is not.  One of the differences between buying more expensive gear and not.  When I got to my hotel and I was unpacking, everything was wet.  I even had to hang up my wallet.  By now I’m guessing you might be thinking two things; did I think about waiting for a later launch, and was I in the middle of a major grumpy old man incident.  Yes, and no.  Waiting didn’t strike me as holding much promise, and by the time I was unpacking, the whole thing was so over the top, and I was so in love with where I was, I was almost laughing out loud.

Livingston is a popular vacation destination.  But make no mistake about its place on the Caribbean.  This is not The Riviera Maya.  The town  is predominantly dirt poor and it lacks that contrast between local life and well appointed all inclusives found elsewhere.  My hotel, La Casa Rosada, is pure bohemian.  Not even shabby chic, ’cause you wouldn’t put the word chic anywhere near its description.  There are a lot of things about it that would have many gringo vacationers checking out after the first night.  I really don’t want to belabor the examples but my door is a screen door with a small window and curtain.  It has a hasp and a padlock.  I love it.  I discovered I’ve missed the ocean.  This is my kinda place.  Someone turn in my thirty day notice in St. Paul. 🙂

Above is my room.  It’s even tinier than it looks.  And the rain pouring  off everything.  I took this shot from the dining area.  When there was a break in the action, some pics from a walkabout.

As I’m finishing this post it’s almost 2:30 in the morning.  I got up so I could hog all the bandwidth and get my pictures uploaded.  Can’t wait to see how long it takes to get the whole post uploaded.

After a beautiful full moon evening it’s now raining hard again.  Not to worry, more later.

……., and with a little bit of bragging about Common Hope.

My Godchild Edgar was the very first kid sponsored in the town where he lives, San Miguel Milpas Altas.  I should know how long ago that was but I don’t.  It was awhile.  Today, somewhere in the neighborhood of five hundred kids in San Miguel are affiliated with Common Hope.  That means they are sponsored or are the siblings of sponsored kids.  If they are not yet sponsored, they are eligible to be sponsored and already experience some benefits or status as affiliates of Common Hope.

Recognizing a growing need from those kinds of numbers, Common Hope rented a house in San Miguel to establish an educational support center.  Here’s a few pics.

A small library has been started and there are teachers available to provide tutoring sessions.  These students are getting extra help with the accounting skills that are taught in their regular school curriculum.  These are high school students but the center will develop with an eye towards all grade levels.

This is a common area that’s on its way to being whatever is needed.

And here is the computer lab.  The young man in the tan pants and gray sweater is also a tutor.  The center, when it is open, is a secure environment  and will always be staffed and supervised.

Common Hope is about kids and families.  And about a different future in Guatemala.  I love this country and I’m proud to be a small little piece of that.  I came to Common Hope because friends brought me here.  But whenever I talk about Common Hope I always try to add this additional part of what I know and believe.  There are thousands, probably millions, of NGOs doing honorable, much needed work, on every inhabited continent in our world.  In many different areas.  I’m not talking geographic areas, I’m talking about areas like education, medicine, social work, food, rehabilitation, clean water, construction, I could go on and on.  Anyone and everyone can do something.  Whether it’s at home or abroad.  There are starfish to be tossed back into the sea.

I am well and hope you all are too.  Thanks for being out there.

The overwhelming takeaway from both of this year’s visits with my sponsor kids is new babies!  Last year on my visit we learned that Alba Veronica, Edgar’s mother, had recently learned that she was pregnant, and the boys, Edgar and his brother Ericson, were pretty angry with their parents about it.  Given that their youngest is 16, she was forthright about it being a bit of an “oops”.  A bit??  The boys were honest about the fact that they were still trying to get used to the idea.  Mom told me that got worse before it got better.

This year Nahomi, (short a, silent h), now 8 months of delight, has brought great joy to the entire family.  Including the boys whose feelings have changed entirely.  They are both attentive brothers.  Gratifying to see.  I think years from now when boys start coming around Nahomi, they will have real challenges dealing with her two protective brothers.

I had to be mindful of asking Edgar questions and keeping some focus on him.  It was too easy to have the whole visit, and all of the attention, be on the newest member of the family.

Even though Edgar is focused on school and does well, I learned that he is becoming quite the wanderer.  He has gotten crosswise with his mom for not being up front about where he is, and not being back home when he says he’s going to be there.  Huh, something new with teens. I’ve been around this family for quite a long time now and they are pretty open with their conversations when I’m there. Although there was some laughter when all of this was being discussed, there was also some tension.  I counselled Edgar that his mom’s anger is born out of worry and asked him to be more understanding and respectful about that.  While all of this was being discussed, Ericson, who I’ve also become quite close to and fond of, sat quietly next to me with his sister on his lap and a little smile on his face.  It is also becoming clear to me that Ericson is emerging as the real home body of the two brothers.

Here’s the whole group on this visit.  On my right, (I’m the tall guy), is Ericson.  Then Edgar on my left, Lys who works in Sponsorship for Common Hope and served as translator, mama Alba and Nahomi, and on the far right, Brenda whose the social worker assigned to the family.

Pepiàn, not a breakfast dish, has become the traditional meal during my visits.  Alba likes to cook it, and she knows I like to eat it.  This was a morning visit so we all learned that it is in fact good for breakfast. 🙂     I feel so blessed to be a friend to this family.

One baby per visit please.

I noticed on my Sponsor Activity Report that a new grandson was listed.  I had assumed the boy was the son of Paulina’s sister, Viviana.  But I wondered about it because Viviana is married and living with her husband’s family.  Not so fast grasshopper.

Last year during my visit Paulina was already pregnant but didn’t know it.  In fact, she didn’t find out for a number of months.  Now she is married and with a new son, Oliver.  Another regalito in my life as a sponsor.  You Spanish speakers will recognize that as, “little gift”.

This is Oliver completely focused on his very first selfie.  They say start ’em young.  He did pretty good with getting saliva all over my phone.

When I first figured out that my little flower petal was now a young mother, I was happy to realize that Paulina did not quit school when she learned that she was going to be a mom.  That would have followed a long history of similar stories.  A story repeated throughout the world of unplanned pregnancies.  Lys remarked while returning from the visit that she thought Paulina seemed a little sad.  I don’t disagree with that assessment.  While I was reviewing my pictures from the visit, it was there on her face in some of the photos. 

But also, in the pictures are looks of genuine joy while holding her new son.  She talked about not feeling very connected to him at first.  But that was just at first.  There is no doubt in my mind though that a part of her is feeling like, what have I done?  Way before I was ready.  But then there’s Oliver.  Little gift.  On this visit, Paulina who is very shy, was happy to have all of the attention on Oliver.

The other obvious new thing in Paulina’s life is that she no longer lives in the home where she grew up and is now living in the home of her mother-in-law.  As I mentioned earlier, I’m so happy that school did not end for her.  And that she is still committed to finishing, as hard as that has become.  She now attends classes only on Saturdays and has more homework during the week.  Saturdays are very long days.  Well, all of her days are very long days.  Oliver and her mother-in-law, or her mother, go with her on school days.  Of equal or maybe greater importance than her own desire to finish, I was very happy to learn that her husband, her new mother-in law, and of course her own mother, are all very supportive and want her to finish her schooling.  This is very good news and will likely be the difference maker in Paulina’s ability to finish.  As her sponsor I will be hoping and praying for this to happen.  I told her I want to watch her graduate and I look forward to that day with great love. 🙂

I decided some time ago that this winter while in Guatemala I would limit my post writing to some travel within Guate and any other experiences that were different than the things I’ve written about in the past.  Write or wrong, (see what I did there?), I figured I have written enough in the last couple of years about my daily life down here, Antigua, and The Processions during Lent.

Semuc Champey is a National Park area, popular with trekky types, in the mountains of northern Guatemala.  I say that because the trip is arduous, the hiking intense, and the beauty amazing.  The mountains of Guatemala, especially in this area, are not at all like how we think of mountains in the US, with their jagged peaks and strung out in miles of ridge line ranges.  Many of the mountainous areas here remind me of a table top full of jujubes and Hershey’s kisses all pushed together.

The end of the line village is a mountain valley community called Lanquin.  Its size is limited by the geography with one or two main streets that run its length.  Unlike many other mountain communities in Guatemala, Lanquin’s streets are mostly finished with pavers with some sections of strictly dirt.  The town makes much of “its living” from its proximity to Semuc.

Here’s a few other shots I took in Lanquin with the last one in this group being the entrance to the hotel I stayed in.

The hotel was simple but nice.  I chose it because it seemed to have the last private room in town for the dates I would be there.  But it did not disappoint.

Most of the site energy seemed to be put into the pool area but it had a nice little restaurant and the food, all typical Guatemalan, was excellent.  My room, seen below, was a two room bungalow building with a view of the driveway and parking lot.  But it had everything I need, a nice firm bed and a good shower.  Below  that,the  entrance  to  the  hotel  “lobby”.

It sounds probably like I’m making a little fun of it, but I truly did like this place and the kids that worked here were really nice.  If you want to go native, there are some hostels closer to the park entrance, but those are community living.  Bunk rooms of six to twelve people, sometimes mixed gender, community dining, everyone eats the same thing at the same time, community bathrooms, and limited hours of electricity.  Sign me up. 🙂

Before I show you some pics of my day in the park, let’s get back to that arduous journey part.  You could describe any road trip, of any consequential length, as an endurance event.  The little travel and tour companies, or the shuttle companies, will tell you that the trip from Antigua to Lanquin is seven or eight hours.  Don’t you believe it. My trip was over ten each way.  Two rest stops.  Mountain roads, road construction, road condition, and old, under powered, and sometimes seriously overloaded vehicles, all make for trips that only occasionally involve any speed.  If you’re lucky you’ll ride in one of the mid sized tour busses with big windows, a center isle, and fairly comfortable individual seats.  If you’re not, then its your basic twelve passenger van.  Either way don’t count on any leg room.  If you’re 5’2 or 3″, you’ll be fine.  Road construction areas can routinely involve twenty to thirty minute waits.  I could go on and on about all the nuances that can make a shuttle trip a little slice of hell, but it would just turn me into a grumpy old man.  Oh, and every trip seems to have at least one person who never, ever shuts up.  You know the kind I mean; they think that everyone loves the sound of their voice as much as they do.  The scenery by the way is always great and the villages interesting.

Having said all of that, I want to be sure to add this point.  In the almost twenty years that I’ve been coming to Guatemala the road system has improved dramatically.  And that’s an understatement.  Any developing country that wants to promote tourism and improve the lives of its citizens knows that this has to be a focus of energy and resources.  Guatemala continues to have lots of work on its horizon but it has come a long, long way.  There is one unfortunate twist in all of that.  The improvements are largely the result of national projects.  The streets and roads that are strictly the responsibility of local municipalities often go unimproved because the resources just aren’t there.

Ok, to the park.  The last leg of the journey between Lanquin and Semuc Champey can only be accomplished by four wheel drive truck.  It takes about forty minutes.  The trucks have a framework of steel pipe in the back for holding on for dear life.  It’s a stand up trip.  Sometimes packed like rush hour on a New York subway.  I regret not getting a picture of this to give you the complete visual.  Sometimes the truck has a backseat which sparks a feeding frenzy of “dibs” amongst the young travelers.  I’m talking about the vagabond gringos and Europeans.  Couldn’t find a thought process that seemed to think that offering it to an older person, or God forbid, a young Guatemalan mother with a baby, made the most sense.  Oh well.  The road is rugged, steeply and constantly up and down, and when I arrived at the end, my hands were cramped into a permanent death grip position.  Just the ride was a workout equal to any I could put myself through at the Y.

Once inside the park there’s a fairly easy trail that follows the river.  The river is the Semuc, an aqua clear mountain river that isn’t as cold as you might expect.  The “pools” are the most popular spot along the river but there are also some caves.  I did not venture in.

The trail system has a loop that goes up to Mirador.  Mirador is a common name used in mountain areas, it’s Spanish for viewpoint or vista.

One section of the loop is the longer, and some might say “gentler” choice.  The other is straight up.  This pic is looking up and the angle of the trees gives you some sense of the steepness.  If you look closely you can just make out a small walk way above that crosses this ravine.  My trip up often involved using all fours.  There are occasional sections of walkway or stairs which would make all of the blood drain from the face of any OSHA inspector worth his or her salt. 🙂  When I reached the summit my clothes were completely drenched.  I was grateful to be wearing gear made with quick dry fabrics.  My reward at the top was some fresh mango and coconut and a replenishment of fresh water.  The resiliency and fortitude of Guatemalan women never ceases to amaze me. I know that sounds sexist but get over it.  A few of them make this trip every day, carrying food, and being there to greet and nourish spent hikers.  Oh, and the other reward was this.  That’s the pools down there.

I gave myself a nice long rest at the top just enjoying the views. Picking my way back down on the “easy” part of the loop was for me very intimidating.  And hard on my knees.  Going slow, and more importantly staying focused, got me safely back down to the river.  The whole thing was exhilarating.

When I came out of the park in mid afternoon I thanked God for some cooks.  Thousands and thousands of people in Guate scratch out a living serving meals along the roads, in the villages, or anywhere people are gathered.  From the multiple choices, I approached what I presume was a mother and daughter that had several huge slabs of pork ribs on their grill.  I had to ask her to give me a slightly smaller portion than she intended.  The ribs, and the ever present rice, beans, and tortillas cost me 25Q.  That’s three dollars people.  I gave her 40Q and the food was muy rico.

At the risk of insulting your Intelligence, here’s a fun fact; the Quetzale is not only the national currency but also the national bird. Very beautiful, very rare.  It’s worth taking a moment to Bing it, (or Google if you prefer), to look at some photos and videos.

So there you have it.  My first actual travel post of this year.  I have some other explorations planned so there will be more posts to come.  Although probably not at the frequency of the past.

I am well and hope you all are too.

As promised in my last post before leaving Guatemala last year, here’s a little ditty about a not so little bike ride.  Minnesota has an early season, one day, 100 mile ride called the Minnesota Iron Man that I did three or four times back when I was in my twenties.  In my thirties, while living in Colorado, I did a number of grueling solo climbs in the mountains.  There, the terrain and altitude were the test, rather than distance.  I spend a lot of time on my bike in the summer time, but given the years, this was a new kind of challenge.  But enough about me.  Let’s get to the pics and info about the ride.

The undertaking begins at Century College in No. St. Paul where trucks and buses await the transport of nearly 4000 bikes and riders up to Proctor High School, the launch site of the ride.  The bikes get good care and handling, with each one getting it’s own cover as they get loaded on the trucks.

The local Scouts and other volunteers are waiting in Proctor to place the bikes in a secure corral.

The Ride actually officially begins on Saturday morning, but our merry little band of riders got ourselves and our bikes on the first transports so we could ride down as far as Carlton on Friday evening where we all stayed at a motel.

The photo above is of friends Kevin, on the left, Steve, on the right, and Pat with his back to the camera.  The photo to the right is my great friend Gary with his two sons Matt and Todd.  Matt came from Colorado to do the ride with his dad and brother.

Our first eighteen miles on Friday afternoon and evening was truly a treat.  We passed through Jay Cooke State Park and over the St. Louis River.  Below is a photo of yours truly with friends Pat, Steve, and Tim.

On the way down to our motel, we stopped at a great little spot in Carlton called The Streetcar.  Great food, lots of craft beer choices, and friendly folks. If you are up in the area, The Streetcar comes with high praise from our whole group.

I wouldn’t say, if I can do this, anybody can.  But I would say, if you are thinking at all about trying a long ride like this, this would be a great one to choose.  Putting aside the obvious point that this is all for a great cause, the organization and support for this event is superb.  This enables riders of all ages, shapes, and fitness levels to participate.

These photos were taken at one of Saturday rest stops in a little burg called Mahtowah.  The amount of food at the lunch and rest stops is not to be believed.

While contemplating this interesting little place, (it was closed but looked like it might have one of everything in the world),  I was reminded how the landscape of rural America was changed dramatically for many when the Interstate Highway System was built.  I’m sure some would think for the better and some for the worse.  Mahtowah is just a stones throw from I 35.  Thousands of cars pass everyday never knowing this little community exists.

Another piece that makes this a good “first timer” ride is the route itself.  It is predominantly flat, (seriously 🙂 ), and much of it is picturesque.  In addition, I don’t know the exact breakdown, but somewhere in the neighborhood of three quarters of the course is bike trail.   Most of the way down to Hinkley is on the Willard Munger Trail.  Willard Munger was the longest serving representative in the Minnesota House, and virtually every piece of environmental legislation in Minnesota has his authorship and/or his spirit affixed to it.

Most of the route between North Branch and No. St. Paul is on the Sunrise Prairie Trail and the Hardwood Creek Trail.  To the right here is the Kettle River.

The mid-ride overnight and celebration takes place in Hinckley on the grounds of the Grand Casino.  The outdoor music venue serves as the bike corral.  If you’re not dead tired it’s a party.  If you are dead tired, it’s still a party.  After some serious re-hydration and a great dinner, (provided for registered riders), our group was off to spend the night at a cabin that Kevin had found on VRBO.  The owner and her daughter are yearly participants in the ride and they were happy to host some riders.  They gave us a ride to and from the casino grounds and prepared a wonderful breakfast for us the next morning.  It was a surprise gem of the weekend.

Here’s a couple more photos from different rest stops.  The rest stops are well spaced and again, more food available than you would ever imagine.  I want to add here, as encouragement to those who might consider this ride, there is always a SAG Wagon present to take you and your bike down a rest stop or two if you’re running out of gas.  No embarrassment, many people do it.  

Ok, full disclosure, even though this ride was way last summer, I saved this post until now because I wanted to use it for fundraising.  I do this ride for my friend Cherie and the many thousands of people who live and suffer with MS every day of their lives.  I, and they, would be grateful for any amount you would care to give in my name.  Here is the link to donate.  Just type in my name and click the search icon.  If that doesn’t work just search MS 150 Minnesota and click on the Donate tab.  Thank you so much.

https://secure.nationalmssociety.org/site/SPageServer?pagename=BIKE_HOM_donate&fr_id=30910##js–search-results

Many of you know that I’m back in my winter digs in Guatemala.  I do have some posts coming up of my travels down here.  To the best of my knowledge I won’t be fundraising in any of those. 🙂

Thanks for being out there.

For the most part I’ve tried to steer clear of political content on my blog site.  Mostly because I’ve tried to re-dedicate my life to not giving energy to those things that do nothing but divide us.  There are actually people who are supposed to be doing that job. That said, it has been frustrating, and at times a little painful, to be down here and reading about and hearing about our president wanting to take his foreign aid ball and go home.

I’m going to speak to Guatemala because that’s what I know.  To punish a Central American country because they are not doing enough to help us solve our “immigration problem”, is like going to a guy on a corner, holding a sign asking for help, and telling him you’re taking his sign and his money because he has not done enough about the traffic situation at that corner.  His life is focused on a very small set of priorities.  On survival.  He would be baffled by our attitude and actions.

Guatemala is struggling to convert roads from dirt to pavement.  To improve the movement of it’s citizens.  I’m not talking about roads that are out in the countryside.  I’m talking about roads that many people have to travel in their everyday lives.  They are roads that are choked with dust from traffic in the dry season, and full of runoff gulleys in the rainy season.  Sometimes there are near impassible slide areas because there is no erosion control.  And did I mention the numerous single lane bridges?  The few people in cars, the more numerous people in busses, might wait in line for a half hour for their turn to cross.  if you are on a bicycle, a scooter, or walking, you can sometimes slip through a little easier.  Our commutes in America, while frustrating, are easy.

Guatemala struggles in many areas to bring water to it’s people.  One of my sponsor kids, Edgar, lives in a village called San Miguel Milpas Altas.  The water system in San Miguel is turned on two days a week.  On those days, people collect water in any vessel they have to get them through three or four days.  It probably wouldn’t shock you to hear that sometimes it doesn’t come on.  In many of those cases that doesn’t mean it will come on the next day.  It will come on the next scheduled day.  Again, I’m not talking about a village that’s out in the boonies.  San Miguel is only a handful of kilometers off the main highway between Antigua and Guatemala City.

Even in population centers, Guatemala struggles to provide consistently functioning water and electrical systems.  Right here in Antigua, in the house I’ve been living in for the past several weeks, we have been without water all or parts of four different days.  We have been without electricity for one entire day.  For all you math majors out there, that’s an average of more than once a week that people are without these services.

I can only hope my point is becoming clear.  The Texas border is surreal to Guatemalans.  For them to think that their government  could do anything about the situation there, or for their government to think that, wouldn’t even be laughable because they have way to even conceive the notion.  The good government officials are singularly focused on infrastructure.  NGOs are focused on education and healthcare.  Some them indirectly dependent on foreign aid by the way.  Agriculture is a lot of big American companies.  Some of them enjoy foreign aid “incentives”.  Few of them deserve any kudos.  But they do employ a lot of people.  Some rural ag cooperatives, formed by native people, are becoming very effective.  All of it requires huge amounts of what I think of as cultural energy.  And there is no energy left over for McAllen, Texas.  And there shouldn’t be.

Our immigration system is screwed up.  But to lay even a part of the fault at the feet of countries like Guatemala is baffling.  I can tell you it certainly is to Guatemalans.  There is an unfortunate shift going on in the way the people of Guatemala perceive America and Americans.  Some Americans couldn’t care less about that.  Getting back to the metaphor of the guy on the corner; If we don’t care that his lack of knowledge, resources, or energy, prevents him from any willingness, and all we can think of is to punish him for it, now we are back to my frustration and pain for a country that I love.  I don’t love it more than my own.  But how did we get to, it’s got to be either/or?  That’s a rhetorical question.  I believe that people actually do know the answer.

I know there are many, many people who don’t think like me.  Some of them are reading this post.  But for me, what has always been the thing that makes America great, is we have cared.  How have we forgotten that after pummeling the Axis Powers, we made them whole again.  This is who we were, and still should be.  And we shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that while we were doing all of that, we were advancing our own social programs at home.  Programs that are not perfect.  But honestly, without them, this 70 year old retired person would be hurtin’.  This is why I’m proud of my parent’s generation.  Are our kids going to be proud of how we are doing things?

The opposite side of that coin is, if you don’t think like me, the hell with ya.  We all have to acknowledge our piece of that.

Point made or no, I’m going to stop.  I have a very early shuttle to the airport tomorrow.  And writing this was emotionally exhausting.  Some posts my fingers touch the keyboard and I just write it.  This was not one of those.  I’ve been working it for two days, and It took me probably one hundred  times longer to write it than it takes to read it.

If the airline gods are smiling, I will be back in the twin towns as evening begins.  Weatherbug is promising me 64 degrees.  I’m liking that.

I love you all.  (Even if you don’t think like me). 🙂

My time in Guatemala is once again coming to an end.  As I’ve written before, leaving here and returning home always is a mix of emotions for me.

The next time I post something will be in June when I will be on a two and half day adventure with friends riding my bike from Duluth to the Twin Cities.  Actually our team (SRF) will be amongst thousands of other riders all raising money for MS.  I’m doing it for my good friend Cherie who has adult onset of MS, and for thousands of others like her.  The ride is the MS 150 which is part of a nationwide effort to raise money for research.

Because I’ve been out of the country since February, my fund raising efforts have been pathetically weak.  So shameless plug number one, if you’re so inclined, is to make a donation in my name to MS Research.  This link will take you to our team page where you can find the team roster.  There is a “Donate” link next to my name.  In June, I promise some pictures and probably a few mildly graphic descriptions of sore butt.  🙂  Thank you.

Click here to view the team page for Team SRF

Another organization I’m involved with is Mary’s Meals.  Our Minnesota group is having a garage sale May 9th and 10th and we’re taking donations of gently used clothing and smaller household items and furniture.  As I haven’t quite figured out how to add an attachment to my post, (if there is one), you can request a flyer with more details by emailing marysmealsmn@gmail.com

You can find all kinds of information about Mary’s Meals by searching it.  The story of this organization and it’s founder is a fascinating one.  It was started by a young Scotsman in a quonset hut behind his parents house, and now feeds well over a million kids, at school, every day, principally in Africa.  It literally has a “teach a person to fish” philosophy.  It’s aim is helping people to organize local volunteers, farmers, and food producers to feed school children one meal a day in a place of education.  The result not only feeds kids but benefits local commerce as well.  It is an organization worth checking out and your search can take you to some touching videos.  So shameless plug number two is; if you have items, send a request for the flyer, oh, and did I mention, my little Ridgeline and I will come get your stuff if you need that kind of help.

Lastly of course is my beloved Common Hope. https://www.commonhope.org

My near twenty year involvement with this organization has returned to me blessings far beyond what I could ever express.  There are so many great NGOs working around the world.  I’m a little prejudiced, but this is a great one, and it has a strong non-profit rating.  In my opinion, education is the greatest catalyst of need in developing countries.  Common Hope links people to families in Guatemala who need help sending their kids to school.  A sponsored child gives that child an opportunity otherwise out of reach, and it benefits the entire family with access to other services.  Why Guatemala?  Why Common Hope?  Why anywhere?  There is need everywhere.  My involvement started with an invitation from a friend.

Once again I thank you so much for being out there.  What started as a way to share my retirement camping adventures with my kids, has morphed into something I would not have imagined.  Whether it’s from comments on this site, or personal conversations, or texts, or emails, the affirmation I have gotten from you for my sharing is also a blessing I could never adequately describe. ♥