City of Angels
Trip Start
Jun 11, 2005
1
18
25
Trip End
Jun 05, 2006
Antigua,
Guatemala
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Guatemala's was no exception, apart from an absence of point (e). It was with somewhat hesitant steps that we made our way down the platform to the arrivals lounge. Following a swift journey through customs (aircraft clearly preferable to buses for border crossings in this part of the world, we discovered) we decided to avoid a lengthy cross-country bus journey, and booked our onward flight to Tikal a few days hence.
Leaving the airport, we caught a taxi to Antigua, a picturesque colonial city about an hour's drive from the grim sprawl of Guatemala City. The streets were cobbled, the houses were painted in varying shades of yellow and orange, and this was all overlooked by a huge volcano (so we were told, alas we arrived when it was in cloud). Antigua is a very popular place for Spanish language courses, so there was a very pleasant feel to the town, with many a foreign visitor to be seen. The atmosphere was relaxed, the scenery was gorgeous, and we spent the next day exploring in the pleasant sunshine.
As tourism here is growing quickly, and is an important part of the economy, the government goes to great lengths to ensure tourist safety, for example with escorted walks to local landmarks leaving several times a day. Although Antigua felt safe, and we strolled the busy streets at night, virtually every other shop had an armed security guard, and the banks were most visible with their security, normally boasting a pair of shotgun wielding doormen watching the world go by. This acted as a gentle reminder, should we need one, that Guatemala was far from over it's troubles.
After a couple of days relaxing and exploring Antigua, including an interesting tour of a local coffee plantation, and the thrill of second hand bookshops, we headed north to the delightfully named Chichicastenanga market. This was a well-recommended highlight of this part of the country, and is a twice-weekly market of assorted wares, from brightly coloured weavings, a staple wardrobe item for the local indiginous peoples, to carved jade chess sets to pretty much anything that could be made by hand.
It was difficult not to be overwhelmed by the noise and overall bustle of so many people in such a confined space. The narrow streets were filled with stalls and displays, then over-filled with traders, craftspeople and would-be-buyers, both tourists like ourselves, and locals stocking up on essentials.
It was difficult to move 3 metres without being jostled or goaded into examining a woolly hat or woven scarf. Making eye contact was an instant inviation to enter into a haggling war, with even walking away from a stall being seen as merely a cunning ploy to drive prices down...
We stopped for breakfast on a cafe's balcony overlooking the market, and caught our breath as the market headed into mid-morning busy spell. After a couple of hours drinking in the ambience, we felt brave enough to attempt some haggling, and ended up with some nice weavings, and some other bits and bobs, nearly all of which we actually wanted.
From here we left for the shores of Lake Atitlan, and a village called Panajachel. Lake Atitlan was enormous, and was described by Aldous Huxley as "almost too much of a good thing, like Lake Como, but with the addition of five volcanoes on it's shores". The rich blue stretched away for miles as we descended through the trees to the village.
Panajachel itself was quite nice, feeling like a seaside town, and was known for being a "hippy hangout" with lots of Americans having 'dropped out' and come to live here in the 70s. There was still a lingering hippy influence, with the occasional straggly haired macdaddy strolling by.
One of the nice aspects of Guatemala was the preponderence of indiginous people. In other places we had visited, similar to many such places in the world, the number of indiginous people was tragically small. Not so in Guatemala, with approximately half the population being classed as indiginous. This was refreshing to see, and added a richness to the local culture that we tried to appreciate.
On the shores of the lake are many villages, some of which are unreachable by road, and we took a day's cruise around a number of the villages. Our arrival was usually greeted by a wave of children offering to show us various sights for a small fee, followed by "official tour guides" offering the same thing, with official status, for a slightly less small-fee. We refused, as politely as we could, all offers, and after a while we were left to explore alone.
We bought some more weavings from a lady who was busy making cloth on her porch, with her two small children playing around her. The locals were all wonderfully dressed, the womenfolk in woven dresses, of bright blues and pinks, the men in shirts and stripey trousers, all wearing cowboy hats. I bought a few handfuls of sweets from a street vendor, and felt like the pied piper as kids crowded round as I handed them out. It was a lovely experience, to be around people who's way of life had changed little over centuries, but at the same time it made us feel like rich spectators, a feeling it's often difficult to get away from as a privilaged westerner in poorer countries.
That night we stopped in one of the other villages around the lake, at a strange place called Las Pyramides, the Pyramids, in wooden cabins. The residents are required to be up at 7am for yoga, and to attend mediation classes every afternoon. There were a few lost souls there, from the UK, Germany and further afield, who were on month long courses. It all seemed a little strange to us, although different and a novel experience, the yoga certainly dusted away a few travelling cobwebs. A couple of nights were enough for us however, and we decided to continue our journey with just the two of us, without the aid of men in white pajamas called Marcus and Clive, and headed back to Guatemala City airport.
Next stop, the ruins of the ancient Mayan city of Tikal.
