Sour Waters

After being in Xela (pronounced Shay-la, short for the name Quetzaltenango) for over a week and kicking our stomach ailments, we felt like we had gained our bearings enough to take a day trip on our own, without the help of guides or travel agencies. This, understand, is very brave when you are in Central America. But being Guatemala veterans of over one month, I guess we were a little more sure of ourselves than perhaps we should have been.

We had asked around our school and among some of the locals we have encountered which day trip we should make. Almost unanimously, they all suggested that we go to one of the hot springs in the area. These are pretty amazing pools that collect water heated naturally from the bowels of the mountains. There are also baths all through the closest town where many locals pay a small fee and come to have their only warm cleansing (and perhaps their ONLY cleansing) of the week. In addition, they are set high in the mountains with beautiful vistas in all directions.

So we caught our first "chicken bus" toward the town of Zunil. Chicken busses are a unique Guatemalan experience that we have avoided until this particular adventure. They are old U.S. school busses (probably running when Reade was in elementary school) repainted in all different combinations of colors on the outside, with two or three extra rows of seats added in to ensure minimal leg room. The short explanation is that you pay very little, cram 3 or 4 adults into a seat made for three children, ride very fast through narrow streets in a stick-shift-rickety-old-bus with no shocks. To say it is a bumpy ride is an understatement.

Once we arrived safely in Zunil, we had to find another mode of transportation up the mountain. This happened to be a "taxi", or a pick-up truck with metal rods set up in the bed of it for passengers to hold on to. So we hopped in the back, held on for dear life, and headed up the curvy mountain road when it started to rain. Hard enough that the droplets stung our faces as we whizzed directly into them. Not to mention that with the rain and the altitude comes the cold. It is currently rainy season in all of Central America, and while we have been fortuate enough to avoid the brunt of it thus far, this trip was an official initiation into the true meaning of "La Epoca de Lluvia". This was just the beginning.

Finally we arrived at Las Aguas Amargas, or The Sour Waters. Not that we tasted them. But after reluctantly changing into our bathing suits in the very cold and rustic stone somewhat gender delineated changing rooms, we hopped into the natural pool where it was oh so deliciously warm. Indeed, the mountain scenery was beautiful, but with the rain and the hovering clouds, it was hard to see very far. We enjoyed an hour or so of warmth before changing again into our now damp, rain-kissed clothes for the return trip back down the mountain. To the left are the individual bath stalls.











We looked for a taxi, and waited, and waited, and finally asked when the next taxi would arrive. As it turns out, taxis don't really come up there without an "appointment" of some sort. Good to know. This is a fact that the guide books left out. So we began to walk down the mountain in the pouring rain. Fortunately, we had remembered our trusty umbrellas, but when the rain is pouring at an angle, an umbrella only protects you in part. Thirty minutes later, we at last encountered a taxi, whose driver graciously agreed to let us ride in the cab of the pick-up with him for the remaining ride back to Zunil.

We finally arrived back in Xela, drenched and cold, but proud of ourselves for attempting this trip on our own, albeit somewhat unsuccessfully. After all, it was an adventure. Just maybe not our favorite. Once we warm up, maybe we'll consider doing it again, although for now, the trip definitely falls into the ¨"sour" category.