GUATEMALA -9-

ANTIGUA-I

We are finally on our shuttle that will take us to Antigua, the most attractive and lively city in Guatemala I heard from many people and so I hear from Zeynep, who’s been to Antigua before. In fact, we will stay at the hotel that she stayed at earlier. Shuttle meanders up and around Lago de Atitlan for at least an hour with breathtaking views of the volcanoes and the lake itself. As the sun dives into the night behind the volcanoes, so do we into the yet another mountainous terrain that will lead us to Antigua in two-hours. We will spend our second to last night and last day in Guatemala, in Antigua. Antigua is one of the most resilient cities in Guatemala, I hear. Once the capitol, several times collapsed to its knees, but re-emerged from rubble many times. And now designated one of the world’s historical heritage sites, it indeed is the most vibrant among all other Guatemalan cities, at least of those that Zeynep and I have cumulatively seen.

Leaving Lago de Atitlan behind until the next time

We stay at Casa Rustica, a place Zeyno arranged. I am pleased with our room, clean, orderly, and has a spacious enough bathroom in it. What else will I need as I travel anywhere in the world but more so in a country with so little resources? Once we are settled down and have checked our e-mails, Zeynep starts calling her friends to make arrangements for dinner. Some of her friends from Xela are also in Antigua tonight. We will eat together. We have identified a Mediterranean restaurant, time to try something different after having eaten Guatemalan good for almost a week now. We want to see how ethnic food in Guatemala is served. And soon we will discover they do a superb job: phenomenal, as good as middle-eastern food gets anywhere in the world. And this is not only Zeyno and I claiming this, but also her two friends, who join us for dinner. 

Colorful Antigua with its renovated old structures

After dinner, the girls decide to go to a salsa dance when I head back to the hotel to get a good night’s sleep after traveling from early in the morning to late evening every day for almost a week now. Oh my! What an futile plan.  The bar nearby has jacked up its microphones; it feels like the drums are beating within my head. It is impossible to sleep. I get up planning to call the reception and ask “what the h… is going on?” As my hand goes to the phone I notice a note on the wall apologizing for the noise from the bar on Friday and Saturdays due to lack of any noise ordinance in town. It is almost unbelievable, “lack of noise ordinance” almost wants me to ask “is there any of that for anything around here?” I calm myself down reminding me of the disorganization I used to live with on my own land. The warmth, intimacy, expressivity that we so liked in this land go hand in hand with these "occasional" lack of ordinances... I have never appreciated my ear plugs this much. I dig them out. As I lie down with ear plugs in and two pillows pressed against my head, the noise is reduced only to a bearable level. Th drums are not beating in my head any more rather about a foot away!! It will take me another hour or two to finally drift into a very uncomfortable sleep.  In the morning, I make a mental note as to where not to stay in Antigua next time around.

The main market building in the "agora" of Antigua

It is good to wake up without having to set the clock. We will be afoot today, no boats, no shuttles to catch in the morning. We take it easy. On our last day in Guatemala, we are  wandering around in Antigua with no plans. We are just walking on calles and avenidas, trying to figure out where sur starts and norte ends. Churches emerge from around a corner unexpectedly. Some collapsed to the ground, even the ruins are impressive, waiting for funding to be fixed to their once-upon-a-time powerful identity. Artisan stalls are sweet spectacles in front of churches or ruins alike. One reminds me of the guy with a big curly head from Bolivia that we had met in San Pedro, who couldn’t sell Zeyno any jewelry on his last day (if true) in Guatemala. All the flirting he did ended up for nothing. Once he heard about Zeynep having a boyfriend in the US, he realized how futile his efforts were and gave up. Pleasant memory…

The most well preserved church in Antigua

Unexpectedly but pleasantly, we come across a spa. Zeynep being the queen of pleasures of life shows a jolly interest in the idea of getting a massage before leaving Guatemala. I submit, hoping my painful muscles from the volcano climbing a few days back may benefit from it, too. The first place turns out to be a total failure, the moment I see the dirty towels on which we will be asked to lie to get the massage, I know I can’t do it. But, we have made the decision already, we will leave Guatemala with a Mayan massage in our history. We start looking for a better place and eventually we do find one to our liking. Mayan massage place on San Luciano Norte, numero 20, just a few blocks down from the first place.

Yet another well preserved spectacular historic structure

A first in my life. Zen music starts shortly after Zeyno goes into the room where she will receive her massage. It is so soothing that I don’t know if I will be able to keep awake during the massage. Surely, it turns out to be a semi-conscious experience. Professional hands mobilizing each and every muscle that daily life leaves dormant. The juice of life rushing into each muscle, each cell, invigorating life in each of them. I never knew my hands had such small muscles that could be awakened. I never knew my neck could be this loose. I never knew deja vous and ja me vous could be experienced at the same time. I never knew massage was also yoga. Letting go somebody else take over the job of stretching and relaxing the muscles while I focus only on my breathing, total submission except for breathing.

Yes, it indeed turns out to be a rejuvenating experience, I may go back to this when I return to Iowa City. Especially after a difficult court case that involves a defendant: I know my testimony based on medical facts will get him into trouble. I know he is also a victim of his own childhood experiences that led to the abuse of his child in his own hands. And I: helpless with all this knowledge, confined within the boundaries of the law, suffering both for the victim and the perpetrator, who is already a double victim. Those days are the ones that I get back home feeling defeated and tense and questioning whether what we are doing is the right thing; putting these young men and women in jail. Then what? Those will be the days I will need a good massage from now on. I wake up from my half-asleep state with Jarmina telling me “Cerra vida” and translates “Finished.” “Muchas gracias Jarmina”. “Adios” and yes adios to you Jarmina. Guatemala has written another first to my history. Another aspect Antigua has proven to be different from the rest of Guatemala that I have seen in the last several days.

                                                  From our breakfast garden in Antigua

GUATEMALA -8-

SANTIAGO DE ATITLAN IS NOT DONE, YET

We are not done with the market, yet. As attractive as the stands for edible goods are, the non-edible goods stands are as gloomy; plastic toys of all kinds, who knows where they were produced, could they be some of the toxic-contaminated ones from China. Typical American style tank tops, T-shirts, shorts, skirts, pants, etc. Although, I haven’t seen this style of clothing on anybody on the streets that looked native, if they are in the market, there must be consumers for them. I wonder if tourism is what keeps the traditional weaving and embroidering alive. Is it possible that since there is a market for what they are producing, they are wearing it as well? I hope not, I hope they truly enjoy what they wear and are proud of who they are. I can’t help feeling warm to consumerist tourism for once, if it is what might be keeping this lovely interesting tradition alive, so be it. Perhaps it is good that Zeynep and I are also interested in their art and produce.  

Entrance to one of the art studios

Once we are done with the market, watching our watches, rather Zeyno’s cell phone: we head toward the simple church on the central plaza. As we are approaching it and as Zeyno slips her cell phone back into her backpack, the question that visits me very often comes back to me again: Where are we going with all this constellation of digital devices that take over our lives? We used to write letters, no more, we e-mail. We used to use type writers, no more, we type on our computers, I-phones, I-pads, you name it, although, I can’t say I will complain much about not having to use a type-writer any more. We probably are saving trees by switching to computer-based typing as well as saving a lot of time, at least so I’d like to believe. People would make friends at the gym, no more. Everybody, I mean it, everybody, except I, of course, is wired up in their own worlds with their own music, in solitude, cut off from the outside. If you see a friend and they are willing to say good morning, they have to unwire first.

We used to talk at least on the phone, now we have to text. Nobody picks up a phone anymore, too much time lost. Texting is what is in. As much as I resisted to that, in order to get a rapid response from my daughter, many of my friends, I ended up texting more than I would like as well. We used to read books, used to hear that whoosh sound of turning pages along with smell the scent of paper pages, even that is bound to its doom day. At least ¼ of the passengers on a plane will be reading off of their electronic devices. I am still resisting that, who knows how much longer I will be able to. I wonder with all this electronic life style, if human kind will evolve genetically over millennia and will not need human contact any more, will not need to converse with a human being face to face, will not fall in love any more? Food for thought…

The Church in Santiago de Atitlan

We are finally in the church. As simple as it is, it is still the most elegant building around. It is interesting that Christianity has deep, deep roots in this land. However, it also looks like traditional shamanism and Christianity evolved together and created a new identity for one another and most of the time dissolved in one another. Everything I read describes how Christianity had to accept shamanistic elements built into the way Christianity was practiced in this land, built into the structure of churches they built, into the manner with which priests preached, etc. It is still a bit disconcerting to me, though, to observe how religious a society this is in such a structured and rigid way.

We are back to our boat that will take us to our hotel. After retrieving our luggage from the hawk’s nest up above the dock, we will have to catch the next boat to take us to Panajachel so that we can catch our 4 pm shuttle to Antigua. We don’t know yet, what an adventure it will be.  As we walk down the main street, I am touched with a scene that creates a de ja vu feeling. Where did I see this scene before? The lake is as still as can be. Off the shore is a simple one-man boat. The man is paddling in a standing position and fishing. Ah, of course, this is what the artists up the street have been documenting over and over again. Mayan man fishing for his family in his simple canoe. I am very happy to memorialize this for myself.

Men seem to be fishing only, all else is done by women

Serendipitously, we are again on Pablo’s boat. We checked out of our casa del mundo already and left our luggage in the office to pick up on the way back. It is a pity that we will have to wait for half an hour at the dock for the next boat. There is no alternative, though. We will get off this boat, go up the 100 some stairs and find our friendly waiter, bellboy, whatever needs to be at the casa and ask him to carry our two heavy pieces to the dock to catch the next boat to Pana. But wait, Pablo has another idea. He asks Zeyno, who already told her about our plan in their casual conversation, whether our luggage is already packed. She says yes and as soon as I hear the question, hope rises in me “would they really?” Yes! They indeed do. Pablo volunteers, the boat can wait at the dock, he will run up with us to fetch the luggage. Fantastic, this will give us an additional 20 minutes, which calms down my anxiety about whether we will catch our shuttle or not.

Pablo waiting to jump off the boat to get to our luggage

This is what happens: The captain approaches the dock, the three of us jump out of the boat like deer over shrubs in the forest. Of course the two young fly up, do all the talking, and by the time I am up to pick up one of the luggage at least, Pablo has two backpacks and my carry on. Oh my, Antonio has the largest on his back and he is almost flying down a different path to beat Pablo to the dock. I look up to Zeynep to see what is happening. It looks like we have two helpers now. Zeyno shrugs her shoulders as if to say “Well, I wanted to take one of the luggage, but they wouldn’t let me” with a serene smile on her face. Ok, all we have to do then, is to prepare the tip, which we don’t mind at all. My heart, pounding in my chest with my hurry to help them at least with my carry-on, is full of affection for both of them. I wonder if part of all this unforgettable show is showing off to Zeynep, who knows. As we get to the boat, out luggage is being loaded and both boys are happy with their earning.

Everybody is happy. We both enjoy the lake for another 20 minutes, the wind blowing through our bandanas and hair, peace and affection filling our hearts for this place and its people. What is funny is that, as soon as the captain docks the boat in Pana, he jumps out of the boat and grabs our heavy luggage and carries it to the shuttle office. “They are quick learners” I murmur to myself with a smile on my face. All my worries about how we would carry our luggage were for nothing. As long as we have 10-20Q ready and perhaps as long as I carry Zeynep around, having an easy vacation around here is very easy.

                                                                       Our captain