Chichicastenango

We arrive in Chichicastenango after a short but tortuous 2 hour drive, during which I sleep most of the way. I wake up to what appears to be a movie set; it simply cannot be real. The narrow, hilly, cobbled streets, the traditionally clad people, the two white-as-white-can-be churches, the dark stalls filled with produce, textiles, ceramics. Wood and incense smoke wafting in the crisp mountain air, music blaring from a truck-mounted megaphone. The bustle. A large stage is being set up for what we can only assume will be a fiesta.

Craig’s jaw is hanging open. He is itching to get out of the car and into the melee. I’m rubbing my eyes, doing a double take.

It gets better. Our hotel, the century-old Mayan Inn, is a stone’s-throw from the main square, our room right out of the old west. We have a dedicated valet named Jose and a buzzer in our room; ring anytime and he’ll be there.

We knew we were coming to a special place – the site of the largest and oldest market in Central America – when we planned our trip. And I worried that the hype would lead to unrealistic expectations. But this is one of those places that overdelivers. In. Every. Way.

It’s almost overwhelming.

A bit about the name. It’s actually Chichicastenango de Santo Tomas. Saint Tomas is the patron saint and chichicaste is a prickly nettle-like plant that grows abundantly on the hillsides. Tenango means “place of”. Thankfully the folks here have shorted it to just Chichi.

It is the cultural home of the K’iche’ Maya; 98% of the population claim that heritage and some speak only that language. Here we learn more about the strange blend of Mayan and Catholic spirituality that exists in Guatemala and other Latin American countries. The two churches are built on original Mayan temples and you’d think that might create some animosity. Doesn’t seem to be though.

Thursday is one of two biweekly market days. As well, our stay coincides with the start of a week long celebration of Saint Tomas. To say the atmosphere is festive would be an understatement. The two churches, Iglesia de Santo Tomas and Capilla de Calveria, face each other and the area between is where the market will happen.

Market day starts early, at daybreak. We are up and out of the hotel with our cameras, wishing for a bit of sun to give us better light, especially for photographing of all of the brightly coloured woven textiles. Doesn’t happen so we make do. The photos tell a better story than my words.

In the afternoon we spend time with Juan, a guide who takes us on a tour of the cemetery, reputed to be the most something in the world. Maybe most colourful? I’ve forgotten. Ironically it is much lovelier than most of the town’s housing. Then a tour of the two churches and a monastery. And finally the inevitable tour of the market, where we are encouraged to spend a bit of money at Juan’s recommended shops. He’s a bit disappointed when we say “Ya compramos”, loosely translated as “we’ve already spent our wad”. And bought a large bag to port our purchases.

At night the town transforms from a traditional market to a disco, complete with strobe lights, a professional looking sound system and live band. In the area between the two churches the market stalls are replaced with a dance floor. Early in the evening it is full of women doing some kind of line-dance. Later, after the guys have had a few cervesas, some of them join the ladies.

Onlookers are perched on the Catholic church steps. A fire burns at the entrance to the Calvin church. There’s a full moon shining down on it all. The loudly thumping music lends a primal feel to the scene. Primal and spiritual and otherworldly. As though the Gods have been invited to the festivities and are connecting us with the cosmos.

In the terrace restaurant where we enjoy a pizza and a couple of Gallos the TV monitors are live streaming the happenings below on the street. Occasionally fireworks erupt in the sky.

It’s a day we won’t soon forget, one of those once in a very rare times on the road that we feel truly transcendent. I had similar feelings on safari in Africa. The sense of communion with something much larger than ourselves. WOW!!

The next day we are back on the carretera, riding with Louis and Armando, to Lanquin. It’s an eight hour, 250 km drive. The route is serpentine: up, down, sharp curves, many signs along the way warning about “curvos sinuousos”. Mucho Gravol popped!!

We arrive late afternoon, to another “resort”, for some time in the jungle. Stay tuned!