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After we passed through Coban and Charca, on the way to Lanquin, I said to Josh that I wasn't sure we should be pressing on. He asked me if I was concerned about the road and I said no (while not knowing whether I should laugh at that question, or be pissy that he asked it), I was concerned about the weather we were riding into.

We have been to and played at a number of places that were rivers forming pools, or the ocean, or rivers we could just get into while marveling at the beauty of the waterfalls. The reason to go to Lanquin, and then do the day trip to Semuc Champey, was another of these beautiful natural aquatic attractions. Part of the appeal of these has been the challenging roads to get to them, but part of the attraction has been the extreme heat of the day, and the inviting coolness of the water.

As I mentioned before, I really pushed to go to this location. So, as we pulled over to have the conversation about this, I said I was worried we would ride in, and come tomorrow, it would just rain. As we were on our way, we decided to continue on, and by the time we started dropping into the valley, the sun was out and it was hot.

"See," he said, "it'll be fine."

"See," I said, as we sat at breakfast the next day, watching the rain come down. The trip to Semuc Champey would not happen. After we had enough coffee to chase away the chill, the weather began to improve a bit. Around 11, we left to wander around town and find something to eat. Seriously, there is nothing better than street food.

Before we left, I asked at the office if we would be able to do the chocolate tour that day. They said we could, and we should return at one. The description said we would learn the traditional Mayan way of making chocolate from a local family, and it would take about an hour.

Juan Carlos showed up at the office, and together we walked about three minutes to his home, along with Noah, the hostel dog. He called to his wife that we were there, and we talked a little about where we were from, the different people who had been there earlier in the day (people from Holland and a group from Canada), and we wandered around the property a little. All conversation happened in Spanish, so I spent the day playing translator in a pretty big way.

After meeting all the animals, and talking about the different trees on the property while sampling sugar cane he skillfully carved up for us with his machete, we wandered back to the house and met his wife, Clara, and their ten month old son, Juan Elias.

Clara skillfully and painstakingly took us through the whole process of making chocolate, beginning with toasting the cacao beans. She then toasted the cinnamon, and we all spent time taking the husks (cascara) off the cacao beans. She dropped the beans and cinnamon into a mortar and pestle with a small amount of sugar, and broke everything up together.

 

 

From there, we moved to the grinder--brand new as of Monday, and that thing put a huge smile on her face--and took turns grinding it. Then, it was back inside where the whole lot was put into the traditional stone, and worked until it became creamy. Transforming the mixture from something that appeared to be dark dirt, to the creamy, shiny, soft chocolate texture was both fascinating and exhausting. We all took turns, and I can attest to the making of chocolate being hard work.

She divided it up and made little packets for us to take with us, then asked if we'd like to try it as a drink. After I said yes, she asked if we wanted to try it hot or cold, and in the sweltering heat of the day, I replied cold. Right here, it would be a really nice thing if I told you that I had consulted with Josh on any of those answers, but I didn't. I had the language skills, I had to carry more than two hours of conversation with a stranger in Spanish, so I was getting what I wanted as a reward.

He didn't complain.

Clara poured water into a pitcher, scooped a large serving-spoon full of chocolate into her hand, and over the next ten minutes or so (no lie, it took forever to do this part), she massaged the chocolate by hand into the water until it was dissolved. If you are a germ-o-phobe, this is NOT FOR YOU. I spared about two seconds of thought for the process, then just waited with ultra-heightened anticipation for the final product.

It.

Was.

Delicious.

Gah, it was so good. I took a few lady-like sips, then when I felt no one was watching, I chugged half of it.

At the end of the tour, we said our goodbyes, and Noah walked back to the hostel with us. Josh and I agreed it was the single best thing we had done on the trip. Spending some time learning history and craft of something we both enjoy, and doing it by having our own time with a local family was priceless.

No pools of water, no matter how beautiful, would have rivaled the time we spent that day with Juan Carlos, Clara, and their son Juan Elias. Despite my concerns about the rain, the "bad weather" I had been fearing turned into the best thing that could have happened.

My little packet of chocolate. It didn't last long, and I told Josh that if he didn't eat his soon, I would.

 

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