A Latin American Adventure
by Bene Medhurst
As we neared the end of our ascent, we entered a clearer patch of forest and glimpsed the first sign of civilisation since the start of our almost ten hour journey that had taken us through rivers, swamps and mountains. Our destination was the tiny indigenous village of Los Luareles located deep in the rain forests of the Caribbean coast line of Guatemala.
We were visiting a community that had never received westerners before and were clearly as amazed to see us as we were to see them. Only three of the 170 villagers had ever ventured far enough down the mountain to visit the nearest town, Livingston, and they were therefore overwhelmed with excitement, interest and intrigue as a group of young people from all over the world entered in to there home. It was the first time that many of the villagers had ever seen westerners and it was the first time that I had ever been the first of anyone to get anywhere. It was therefore quite an epic moment for me. I was walking on ground that had previously only been seen by this small tribe. I was seeing a part of the world that was unsullied by western culture and meeting people that were living the same life that their parents and grandparents had enjoyed.
Much to our amusement many of the villagers were wearing designer shirts that had been brought back from the main town by the elders as part of an American gift aid package (As you can imagine, it was baffling to say the least when you see a 5 year old villager running around in a ‘Governator’ t-shirt with a large picture of Arnold Schwarzenegger on the front). Life at this height seemed very simple. Animals ran around the small village that was made up of small thatched huts. Each hut tended to house a large family and extended family and then close to each abode their was a communal eating and cooking hut which was larger with an open fire oven and seating space for a few families to commune.
I will never forget our first night in Los Loureles. We were taken to one of the larger community areas for dinner and were served up some of the strangest food that I have ever eaten. We all looked at each other as we sat down to dinner. The situation was formal, the hospitality quite beyond anything we’d expected so we smiled, looked at our plates and thought… ‘What is it?’ Our hosts were obviously not familiar with the classic bacon sandwich! We did what every good guest should and sat and ate with great smiles on our faces, hiding the pains that we were all feeling. We decided not to ask what was on our plate until the end of the meal (a great tip for anyone eating in such an environment). Instead we concentrated on emptying the plates in front of us. It took quite some time for our translator to translate from Quetchi (the tribal language) to Spanish and then for me to translate from Spanish to English what we had just been served. My face dropped as I, in disbelief, translated the words Queso de Perro in my head. Those of you who speak Spanish will already be in on the fun and knowledge of what I had eaten. My adventure deep in the mountains of Guatemala, to visit a place that was pricelessly beautiful and filled with amazingly inquisitive and hospitable people will now always be remembered as the time that I ate Dog Cheese. As a frequent traveller I can certainly recommend a trip to Guatemala but remember to take a packed lunch!
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