“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page” – St Augustine, 354-430.

Still at JFK. Waiting. Hoping. Praying. We are listed on standby now on a flight that (hopefully) leaves in about two hours. All we can do is wait, hope and pray. The airport last night was absolute carnage so I can only imagine how war-like Heathrow looks right now. Luckily we did manage to get a motel room, the last room in the whole of the airport area without forking out $100 to get into the City and back. It was vastly over-priced, but we thought we’d better rest in case things get worse over the coming days – we might need all the energy we can retain!! I’ve just read in the Guardian that George Osborne is also stuck in New York, poor chap: “The chancellor George Osborne is stranded in New York because of the flight disruption. As a result, planned talks between the Treasury and bank bosses over bonuses have been cancelled.”  

So, family – don’t cancel Christmas just yet. There is light. We just need to wait, hope and pray a little bit longer…

We might not be home for Christmas after all. But we’ll try everything we can to get there…!!!

Meanwhile we’re off to brunch to enjoy (maybe, hopefully, please, please, although I do love you NYC, I do just want to go home now…) our last few hours of NYC.

We spent the day separately Crimbo shopping around the city and then met up in the evening to go see It’s a Wonderful Life in its full big screen glory at the IFC Center. The film was introduced by Donna Read’s daughter. It was magical to sit and watch in NYC with a big cup of hot chocolate, and got us totally into the Christmassy spirit.

Our final dinner was at Miyabi sushi restaurant. Extra edamame and lots of lovely sake. Yum.

By the way, cappuccino is a very difficult word to spell.

But we were determined to get through. We had to get to New York! So, we grabbed our bags off the belt (thank goodness it only took us 2 minutes to find them), rushed through the baggage checking area, ran up the escalator, ran to the bag drop off desk, handed over our rucksacks, ran up the escalator, past the screens. And then we saw… our flight to La Guardia was delayed by two hours!!!

Typical!! But it gave us time to go and enjoy a delicious tuna steak burger and a beer and catch our breath.

Finally made it to NYC and got to our little apartment in the East Village at 2am. We have organised a private flat through Airbnb which is much cheaper than staying in a Manhattan hotel. We’ve started Christmas shopping and yesterday had a lovely time mooching about the city. Last night we met up with Ian’s friends, Stephen and Ron, who he met in Hawaii. They were both so lovely and we had such a wonderful night, and probably shared far too many stories about Ian and his escapades (luckily Stephen already knew about the Lake District incident). Drinks by the ice rink in Bryant Park and then to Little Italy for lots of fat pasta and mock Italian accents. Ian, you would have been so proud of us!

Today our plan is breakfast in Greenwich Village, more Christmas shopping and a sushi dinner tonight. It will be the final meal of our trip away, so we’re going to make the most of it. Extra edamame for us!!

I can’t believe our adventures are almost over!

The last few days have been the most stressful of our entire time away.

I am happy to confirm that I now have my Emergency Passport, US Visa (10 years) and Guatemalan Immigration stamps. This means we can fly to New York and finish our trip in style as planned.

Today was somewhat strange and nerve racking. The US Embassy was amazing and so helpful and professional. I collected my visa and headed straight over to Guatemalan Immigration. The Immigration Offices were really busy and very very crowded. With my limited Spanish skills I was able to queue up in the wrong place for a while and then eventually get directed upstairs. In the main crowded office 10 men turned up in grey suits and ties and constructed a giant xylophone (about 12 feet long and 4 feet wide), a double bass and drum kit and then proceeded to play light jazz. I then went up a further floor and discovered the people who could stamp my passport were in the middle of their Christmas party. They were very helpful and got the passport sorted in-between singing carols, present giving, (fake) snow throwing and speech giving.

Armed with my passport and documents it’s now just the snow that seems determined to provide the last challenge to returning home for mince pies and too many roast potatoes.

Yesterday we were at the massive market in ChiChicastenango (ChiChi to its friends – although not sure if we are its friends) and 20 minutes in, Will was pickpocketed in the hustle and bustle of the cramped crowds. Luckily all that was nicked was his passport (easy to replace) and two credit cards (no big deal – just had to phone up and cancel them. easy enough. although it did take 3 hours to find a working phone line in ChiChi). We happened to be really near four or five Guatemalan policeman when we realised what had happened. They were incredibly helpful and immediately one of them walked with us for twenty minutes directly to the police station so we could report the incident and get confirmation of the crime in order to get a new passport more easily. The police were so friendly and efficient, and even though our broken Spanish was laughable they were extremely patient with us and helped us understand what was happening. And they let us take photos of them with their machine guns (and one guy was also holding a set square).

We continued on to Antigua, arriving late afternoon on Sunday, with the intention of going into Guatemala City today (Monday) to get a new emergency passport from the British Embassy. Will had photocopies of his old passport and his old US ESTA visa. Should be easy enough we thought. Pero no…

Because the final little stage of our trip is to spend 3 days in NYC, we have already booked and paid for our flights from Guatemala City on Thursday to go via Fort Lauderdale to New York before flying back to Heathrow for Christmas. US regulations are that they cannot issue a new ESTA on emergency travel documents, and because Will no longer has his original passport the ESTA Visa he had is no longer valid. Basically at the moment he cannot fly into the US, or even board the plane in Guatemala. On the advice of a helpful American lady at the US Embassy in London (we were desperate for advice) we tried to contact the airline, Spirit to see if they might, in this exceptional circumstance, allow Will to board the plane so that we could deal with the situation when we arrived at US border control. Spirit’s Mardie in Mumbai said the computer said no. And then she had the cheek to try and upsell Will an upgrade on his seat. His response was cutting: “Are you joking? Are you seriously trying to sell me products for a flight you won’t even let me on, when I am in this situation?!” She apologised when she realised she had read too far down her sales script on the screen.

Anyway, speaking to the British Embassy in Guatemala by phone they told us they could issue the emergency travel document no problem but they could not get involved in another country’s visa process and we would have to go through the full normal process with the US Embassy directly for Will to get a full travel visa. Hilariously, the only way they say he can do this is to apply as a Guatemalan Citizen, a process which itself could take days, or even weeks. Even getting an appointment at the US Embassy could take a week.

Our first priority was obviously to get to Guatemala from Antigua as quickly as possible. Again, shouldn’t have been a major problem – Antigua is only 45 minutes by car from the capital. Pero no.  Turns out that this morning the military were out demonstrating in the streets and had blocked off the road out of Antigua and all gateways into Guatemala City. Haha. Joke’s getting funnier, right?!

So we had to wait around in Antigua until the roadblocks cleared some 6 hours or so later.

Finally we arrived in Guat City at about 3.30pm this afternoon, having had to take a longer route around and pay a higher taxi fare. But, we had finally made it to our home from home, the spiffing British Embassy. Here we would be met by happy smiling faces, stiff upper lips persevering in the face of adversity, large glasses of G&T and endless plates of freshly baked fruit scones with Devonshire clotted cream and homemade jam. We even figured they might have marmite on intravenous drip. Pero no.

The British Embassy in Guatemala is similar to a high street bank circa 1987. Cold plastic floor tiles, bad Christmas decorations and 2 booths with screens separating the needy from the help, and not a British person in sight. It immediately became apparent that this whole exercise is all about the form filling. So form filling began. The lady helping us, who is trying her best, said initially that all she could do was help Will get the emergency documents but that she would not be able to help with the US visa. When we pushed her on this, she said she would try to contact her counterpart in the US Embassy and explain the situation but that we would still have to go through the full application process as normal (if normal is a British person applying for a US visa as if they are a Guatemalan citizen). What she might be able to help with is getting us an appointment at the US Embassy in quicker time rather than having to wait a further week. However, to do this she would have to speak to her boss (in Mexico City!) and then write out a letter to give to the US Embassy to get us a speedier appointment.

In the meantime she can start processing Will’s emergency travel document. Luckily he had already got passport photos done in Antigua during the 6 hour wait for the protests to clear. Easy. Pero no. Turns out the photos he got done at the professional passport photo shop are not in line with passport photo guidelines. The ‘professional’ man in the photo shop took the picture from too far away. So, Will had to hotfoot it around to a passport photo place around the corner in Guatemala City. Easy enough. Pero no. When he gets there, the photo booth is broken and an engineer is fixing it but says it won’t be ready for several hours. Luckily, a few words of bad Spanglish later, Will managed to find another photo place further across the city.

So, here we are now. Waiting for the British Embassy to offer us a cup of tea / G&T and for them to write this letter to the US Embassy so we can get an appointment for interview to start the process applying for a visa as a Guatemalan citizen. Will has been practising his Chontal Mayan lingo and has bought himself a pump action shot gun so that he can really get into his Guatemala persona.

We are now at the brilliant Vulcano Lodge, further along the Lake. Stunning lake views combine with comfortable lodgings and a Norwegian owner, Terje who cooks us the most delicious 5-course meals each night. We are fattening up for the big chill when we come home!

Off now to the famous Sunday market at ChiChi before heading back to Antigua for a night. Adios amigos!

Will also had a strange dream last night. Strange because it came true. Over lunch today we were sitting in a beautiful little courtyard cafe in Antigua, eating our tortilla and bean soup when halfway through Will suddenly stopped dead, looked at me and then pulled a tiny piece of meat from his tongue. Eugh. We had both unknowingly been eating bacon or something like it. Turns out that last night Will dreamt of exactly this happening. Weird. And horrible because we have both since had very dodgy upset tummies. Fish we likey. Pigs we don’t (Well we do, so we don’t eat them).

Yesterday we got up at 5am to walk up Pacaya volcano, one of 33 volcanoes in this area. It was a big climb up but definitely worth it. The views down into the valleys were stunning, and it was great fun sliding about all over the hardened ash. Towards the top of this active volcano we were able to throw our walking sticks into a cavern where they burned away, and we also spent some time in a naturally created sauna.

Antigua continues to amuse us. Will finds the offers on the street particularly entertaining. Yesterday he was approached by a young kid who asked him if he wanted to buy a flute. When Will said “no gracias” the boy then asked if he wanted some cannabis. When Will declined, he then asked if we wanted any cocaine.  The lad seemed pretty bemused; he couldn’t understand how we could go without his wares. It was as if the whole world runs on cannabis, cocaine and flutes and that they are a perfectly natural combination of goods to sell together. Maybe it does, and maybe they are.

Last night at the stroke of 6pm we witnessed Antigua’s world famous La Quema del Diablo (Burning of the Devil). Thousands of people gathered, wearing their flashing devil ear headbands, to watch an effigy of the devil on his bicycle being set up in flames*. In a brilliant piece of planning, someone years ago decided that the best place for such an event would be the only place in the entire city where two petrol stations sit opposite each other. I love that. This tradition has been about since colonial times (not the petrol station bit) in anticipation of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. In the olden days, those who could afford it would adorn their homes with brightly lit lanterns. Those that couldn’t would instead burn piles of rubbish. Over time this developed, and now as well as rubbish, the devil is burned in the street. Of course. All the badness from the past year is burned to make way for the goodness of the new.

Once the devil got burning, he set off loads of fireworks and firecrackers all over the street. Then we ate some rotten sweetcorn from a street stall and went for a beer.

* We still don’t know why the devil appeared on a bicycle. One of the Kiwi girls we were with seemed to think that the devil and the bicycle have always gone hand in hand. Until we pointed out that perhaps the devil has been around a little bit longer than the wheel, or indeed the bicycle.

Devil on bike

Random Musing #2 Will and I have entered a new phase of our relationship. After seven and a half years of marriage and eighteen months travelling we have decided to try and make the effort to stop taking the piss out of each other. The trouble is we both enjoy taking the piss out of each other. A lot. We turned over this new leaf last night, and so far we have failed dismally. It’s a mutual thing, and it makes us laugh, so I’m thinking ripping the piss is actually a solid and critical part of our bond.