Guatemala, Ritual to Real Time

by Beth Tally

After a brief trip to the Estados Unidos for a reality check, we’re back in the land of the Rio, volcanoes, Cayucos, banana and chocolate liquados, $1.00 cervaza and pot luck dinners on Monday night. It was good to get home and catch up on family, friends and what’s really important in the world – like the legislator in South Carolina who has filed a bill outlawing adult sex toys in the state. My, oh, my. I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore.

Those of you who saw us probably think we have become Chamber of Commerce ambassadors for Guatemala. You’d be right. Perhaps it was my own ignorance of this place that has heightened my awe upon experiencing it. But, even after seeing things for the second or third time, I continue to be amazed.

We’ve taken two excursions to the Mayan ruins of Tikal (posted on Lifesstory.com – Post Your Story page). Right before coming home, we joined our wonderful cruising friends, Susan and Tom Hayward, in hiring Otto of Ottitours to take us to Antigua, Chichicastenango and Panajacel on Lake Atitlan. My notes are copious and an outright essay could turn novel-esque if I follow my usual literary style – the “Search for Paradise” series in the Up Jinks Journals is about seven pages to one day!! So, I thought I might use the “bullet” technique to share with you the highlights of this tour.

Did You Know?

Antigua was the original capital for all of Central America. It was called Central America because there were no countries – just one massive stretch of land under the control of the Spanish. Now, Central America consists of Belize, Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Costa Rica, and Nicaragua.

There are 34 volcanoes in Guatemala, eight of which are still active.

There are 24 different languages in Guatemala with the main being Spanish. There are 22 different Mayan groups who speak their own language and Spanish. The 24th language is spoken by the Garifuna Indians located on the Caribbean coast at Livingston. They migrated from Jamaica.

There are 800 varieties of orchids growing wild in Guatemala. “Monja Blanca,” or “White Nun,” is the national flower.

There is such a thing as a fresh water crab. The Mayans catch them in traps in lake Atitlan, wrap their claws in palm leaves and sell them in the local markets.

The largest building in Central America was the Cathedral in the central park of Antigua. Originally, it had 18 chapels, 70 domes, 7 gates and 5 naves. Devastated by earthquakes, it is under constant archeological reconstruction now.

Please, Let Me Be the Middle Child

There is a beautiful yellow arch crossing the main street in Antigua. It was constructed to allow the nuns to cross from the convent to the garden on the other side of the street without being seen. In families of the 16th and 17th centuries, the oldest daughter had to become a nun. When the time came, she entered the convent, never to be heard from again. The oldest son was destined to become a priest. The youngest daughter couldn’t marry until both her parents were dead, being relegated to taking care of them until they did so.

Man, it’s good to be in the middle!!

Lots of Purple Candles

Upon entering the magnificent cathedrals in Antigua, you will find candles burning everywhere. The white candles burn for the protection of children. Yellow candles seek protection for adults. Purple candles hope for the ability to break bad habits. We saw LOTS of purple candles.

When the Mayans pray in the cathedral, they do so underground in the crypts located there.

Bridging of Cultures – Mayan ritual and culture permeate everything in Guatemala. The Spanish introduced Christianity to these people and, for the most part has become their professed religion. But, there is less than subtle reluctance to give up the customs and superstitions inherent in their 3000-year history.

Now, That’s My Kind of Offering - Local gods remain prevalent in most Mayan villages. We took a ferry from Panajacel over to Santiago Antitlan on the opposite side of Lake Antitlan. Both Fodor’s and Lonely Planet’s guides recommended that we try to find the house of Maximon (pronounced Moshi-mon). We walked all over the village without any success. At the point where it appeared we were about to leave the village altogether, John asked a man standing on the side of the road “Donde esta Maximon?” He pointed to go back the way we came. Then, he suggested that Diego, the ten-year old little boy standing next to him, could show us. John struck the deal and we headed back into town.

Diego was pretty typical of the children that we saw. He had on shorts and a teeshirt, but no shoes. He looked just like Pig Pen in Charlie Brown with his feet and body covered in the black volcanic dust that makes up the soil all around the lake. We marched along behind Deigo who took the responsibility of being our guide very seriously. At one point, a woman approached us coming the other way. She frowned at him and scolded in either Mayan or Spanish something to the effect that he shouldn’t be with us. I don’t know whether she was his mother, aunt, grandmother or who. But, it didn’t phase him. He determinedly marched us on down the street.

After a few minutes, we came to an alleyway between two ramshackle houses. Diego stopped and said, “Maximon es aqui.” We all looked at each other a little confused. I’m not sure what we were expecting, maybe a shrine of some kind. But, it wasn’t this. John and Tom suggested that they go in and make sure this was the place, which they did. I paid Diego ten Quetzales (the equivalent of $1.50 US) for guiding us. You’d have thought I’d given him $1000 by the expression on his face.

We entered the house into this dark room. Two men were seated with their backs to us on either side of a wooden statue with what looked like a bowler hat on its head. As we came around to face them, we could see the face of Maximon complete with the perfectly circular mouth ready to receive one of his favorite offerings – cigars. The body of the statue was draped in silk ties, scarves and other pieces of cloth, totally covering him up. At his feet were bottles of rum and packages of cigarettes – two other preferred gifts to this god.

We didn’t have any rum or cigarettes, but the two guardians suggested an offering of Quetzales would be just fine. Tom and John plopped some money down at Maximon’s feet. We had to pay another 15 Quetzales to take a picture.

As if this scene weren’t bizarre enough, over to the right side of the room sat a glass coffin inside of which lay an incredibly intricate wooden carving of Jesus. The statue was wrapped in a Mayan blanket exposing only the beautiful, highly detailed face lying in repose. Upon closer inspection, we could see that Jesus was actually lying on a blue Posturepedic mattress. One of the glass panels to the coffin was cut out. A stack of Quetzales lay right next to Jesus’ head. The two guardians suggested that it would be appropriate for us to leave an offering there as well. I guess they wanted to cover all the bases.

As we came back out into the sunlight and walked away from the house, Tom leaned over to Susan and said, “Now, THAT’S an eternal resting place.”

Blessed are the truck drivers – Our tour guide, Otto, took us from Antigua to Chichicastenango, a trip of extraordinarily steep descents and ascents through the highlands of Guatemala. It was such a pleasure being with him because he offered many asides as we made our way. At one point, he pulled off the road and showed us where a medical clinic had been built adjacent to the school. He explained that this was the government’s way of making sure that the Mayan children received modern medical care. If a teacher saw that a child needed attention, she could bring him right next door for treatment.

At another place, he stopped to show us two statues in the square of a small community. One was a man, the other a woman. They both had jugs on top of their heads. These figures indicated that there was potable water in the square, most specifically to those who couldn’t read.

Otto helped us secure a place to stay that night, made a recommendation for dinner, then left us until the following morning. Before he drove off, he said to be sure we went to see the cemetery. I thought this was sort of peculiar. After all, you’ve seen one cemetery, you’ve seen them all. But, the next morning while waiting for the restaurants to open for breakfast, we took a stroll down the steep hill to the edge of the community and visited the cemetery.

To quote Fodor’s: “Colorful cemeteries with their turquoises and pinks, mauves and sky blues play an integral part in the living fabric of contemporary Guatemalan society. It’s not uncommon to see entire families visiting deceased relatives on Sundays. But, a visit to the cemetery need not be mournful and they often bring a bottle of alcohol to share amongst themselves, occasionally tipping the bottle to the earth, so that their dead relatives also get their share. Incense is burned and shamans perform ancient rites alongside Catholic and evangelical priests”

“The color scheme of the cemeteries is more than just decorative: turquoise and green tombs signify an adult member of the family was recently interred in the above-ground crypts, whites and yellows indicating the passing of an elderly family member, and pinks and blues are reserved for deceased children.”

This cemetery fit the description perfectly. There were hundreds of crypts painted bright pastels dotting the hillside. We even saw a shaman waving incense over a recent grave chanting some indistinguishable words as we passed by. Many of the gravestones and crypts were works of art.

One of the most fascinating was a tribute to all of the truck drivers who had lost their lives on the treacherous highway bringing life sustaining goods and produce to the community. Sitting in front of the crypt was a replica of a two lane road in a figure eight, complete with road signs, yellow lines, turn arrows, rocks and trees. It looked like a racetrack some lucky little boy would find underneath the tree on Christmas morning. After making the trek the day before winding our way through the incredible terrain, I could certainly see how such a memorial was fitting.

Don’t You Dare Move - As I mentioned, Otto helped us negotiate our hotel stay in Chichicastenango. It wasn’t the Ritz, but was very clean with private baths and both a double and single bed in each room. The charge was a whopping $20 for the night. We put our bags in the rooms and walked into town for the afternoon, checking out the preparations for the citywide market scheduled for the next morning.

We ate dinner at the restaurant Otto suggested and came back to the hotel around 9:00 PM. John and I sleep in a queen-sized bed on the boat. We hadn’t seen anything larger than a double in any of the hotels where we’d stayed. I always try to start out in the same bed with him. Sometimes it works out for the entire night. Sometimes I have to move. Usually it depends on how hot it is. There’s no air conditioning in most of the hotels.

This particular night was no different. We got in bed and tried to read for a few minutes with the overhead light. There was a Martha Stewart K-Mart lamp on the table by the bed, still with the plastic on the lampshade, but no outlet in the wall where we could plug it in. It was a nice thought, though. John got up and turned off the light. It was pitch dark. Our room was on the back side of the building with no windows opening up to the outside. We went to sleep.

After a couple of hours of tossing around, I decided it was futile to stay in the bed if I wanted to get any sleep. John was totally out. I didn’t want to wake him, so I carefully turned the covers down and crawled out of bed. It was so dark, I couldn’t see anything. I slid my feet along the floor, crouched down with my hands out in front hoping I was headed in the direction of the single bed across the room. In a few seconds, I bumped into it and felt along the top to find our bags which we had placed on it earlier.

I slowly lifted them off the bed and set them on the floor without making a sound. Sliding my hands up the bed, I found the spread over the pillows and pulled it back, then the top sheet. I got into bed ------- which set off a loud crackling noise. It sounded like firecrackers were going off in the bed, or like I was in the middle of a pan with bacon frying. I froze. What in the world? John still snored from across the room, so I hadn’t wakened him. I maneuvered down into the covers – crackle, crackle, crackle.

I started laughing. It was obvious that, just like the Martha Stewart lampshade, my mattress and box springs were still covered in plastic. There wasn’t anything I could do about it. Every time I turned over, the noise fired off from the bed. I learned several things that night. It’s impossible to sleep without moving; if you move on a bed covered in plastic, you’re not going to sleep; and my husband can sleep through ANYTHING!!