Bruno and "Tay keare"

Spending time at Irla's house, learning to weave a traditional tejido on a backstrap loom, was one of my favorite activities while in Antigua. I made daily trips to San Antonio Aguas Calientes where Irla and her family live and basically tied myself to a tree on their patio to work on my weaving and hang out with their family.

They have two dogs, rambunxious but sweet Bruno and old, blind Dalmatian mix "Tay keare".

At first I thought "Tay keare" was perhaps a Kaqchikel word or something in Spanish that I had never heard of. Then I realized what they were actually saying: take care. The dog´s name is Take Care. When they bought him as a pup, the sellers waved good bye and said, "Take care of yourself, perro!" (although this was en español). So they dubbed him Takecare.

Irla´s dad, Luis, was the man behind this great name. He is a charming and playful guy who clearly loves learning new things, although access to new information is limited to chats with neighbors, visitors and a fuzzy connection to the Discovery Channel from his room. I bet he would go crazy over some internet access.

Luis and Bruno

Some years ago, Irla met a Japanese traveler interested in studying traditional Mayan weaving. He became a good friend of the family, and since then, Irla´s has become a staple stop among Japanese tourists in Guatemala. She hosts house guests, teaches traditional weaving and gives cooking demonstrations in her home. She showed me a picture of her published in a Japanese tourism magazine.

As a result of this cultural exchange, her dad Luis, a Guatemalan man who speaks Kaqchikel and Español, can greet you in English and say, "I´m full" in Japanese. What a world.

Many days while I was working on my tejido, the family would invite me stay for a homemade lunch, eaten around 1 o´clock. We would all sit around their wobbly table with a big hole in it and chat while we snacked on hot elote, slurped soup and ate piping hot tortillas no bigger than the palm of my hand with fresh slices of lime. I drank special agua pura and everyone else had Coke or a mysterious orange sugar drink. We said, "Buen provecho" both before and after the meal, and thank you to each person before getting up from the table. If you weren´t careful, Bruno would without a doubt try to steal your seat. He loves sitting in chairs.

Irla, Sherlley and Derek

I loved these lunches because of the stories that were shared, especially by Derek (Irla´s highly imaginative four year old son) and her father Luis. It was sometimes a challenge to understand him because I often wasn´t quite sure which language he was using.

He taught me some of my first words in Kaqchikel, and I taught him new phrases he wanted to learn in English, like, "Thank you, I hope to see you again" and "Dig in, everybody!" He told me that during his two years with the army, he met some gringos who used to call him "baby face."

Derek, an outgoing and highly adorable four year old, told some great stories at lunchtime. He typically drank a cup of coffee for breakfast, so he was rarin´to go by lunchtime.

"Once, when I was little, I climbed all the way up a tree and then I FELL! I fell down out of the tree and I fell into a hostal." (As I wondered if I had understood his story, Irla muffled a laugh and quietly told me that that hadn´t in fact happened). Another day he announced, "Last night, I had the best dream! I had a dream that dad bought me new shoes, and that I had lunch at McDonalds!" 

Bruno sitting in a chair

Inspired by Luis and this great family, Johnny and I have a name picked out for our future dog: Cuidese.

How's this for a car seat?

Transportation laws are a little different around here. Hitching a ride in the back of a truck appears to be common practice (no matter the road or the distance). Entire families, including wee little ones, have no problem piling in the back of a truck to get from here to there, which includes highway travel. Friends and family with car seats -- I've been thinking of you! If you're coming to Guatemala, you can leave it at home.



We shot this photo en route to Panajachel for a day on Lake Atitlan with Irene and Sherman. It was a long windy road with lots of traffic (and lots of smog going right into their faces).

Around the cobblestone streets of Antigua, many people ride small motorcycles or scooters. Today I saw a family of four sandwiched on a moto: Dad was driving, two girls under ten were next, and Mom brought up the rear, holding on to Dad's shoulders for safety. Another gal had her toddler standing on the front of her scooter. And of course, you can always strap your baby on to your back if you need to hop on the bike.

The kid in front is much older than others I've seen riding... EEK.

Also on the road are cars of all types (old beaters to shiny new BMWs), tourist vans galore, Tuc-Tucs, two-seat moto bikes --imported from India-- that run like taxis, and revamped American school buses painted in wild flames of color with dramatic names on their sides. There are a spattering of stop signs at some intersections in Antigua, and many streets are una via (one way), but for the most part, the general policy around traveling seems to be... hold on!

Tejidos

Today marks three weeks since we arrived in Guatemala. It's satisfying to feel like I know the ropes now. Last week was a lot of yoga class, reading, touring and eating out (lots of great restaurants in Antigua); this week so far has been more "authentic" (for lack of a better word). I branched out a bit and met some wonderful people in the process.

This morning I caught a "chicken bus" to San Antonio Aguas Calientes, a town just outside of Antigua, where my friend and teacher Irla lives. She's teaching me how to weave, old-school Mayan style. Based on my first few days of learning this technique, I would describe it as unbelievably laborious and complicated. Now I understand why people have come here to "study Mayan weaving." People hand weave these intricate designs into skirts, blouses, belts and other decorative items. Each town has its own style and its own particular designs (for example, lines that represent the roads, squiggles for cafe, frijoles and maiz, quetzales, etc). I am working on the most gorgeous table runner that ever was, and at the rate I'm going, it should be finished some time in the next five years or so (sorry, not in time for the Biz Bash silent auction...).

Scratching my head, trying to figure out what the heck to do next.

In any case, I've really enjoyed spending the last few days hanging out at Irla's house. There are usually about ten people hanging around, including her two kids, her sister-in-law, a babysitter, her dad (who cracks me right up) and her 99 year-old abuela. I love the happy noise of them talking in Spanish and Kachiquel, scolding the dogs and humming as they wash clothes or prepare lunch.

Their property has several free-standing rooms made of concrete block, corn stalks (like bamboo), and metal roof; the middle section is dirt floor, where a tree grows -- that's where I rig up my tejido (weaving). It's a back strap loom that I tether to the tree and wrap around "los cheeks" to pull it tight. I sit on a tiny stool, but most women sit on their knees (hero's pose for my yogis).

Today was special because Sherlley, Irla's ten-year-old daughter, had a dance performance at her school. There were some pretty stellar dance numbers.

In the afternoon, Johnny and I were invited to stay for lunch with some special guests, gringos and friends of Irla's mom who were interested in buying some of her weaving to sell abroad.

Long story short, they were also affiliated with Friendship Bridge (Puente de Amistad) and once of them used to live in Colorado. You know it's a small world when you're eating pepián and toyuyos with a Guatemalan family and some friends from Colorado in San Antonio Aguas Calientes.

Home made pepián

Roasting marshmallows on Volcan Pacaya

Here we are at Volcan Pacaya, not far from Antigua. There was no lava on the surface when we visited, but there were definitely spots hot enough to melt your sneakers.

This volcano erupted not long ago, coughing large fireball rocks onto the town below. Near the top, we stopped on a warm rock to eat lunch and listen to the wind blow. Just went we asked our guide if he couldn´t take us just a little closer to the stop, Pacaya began to rumble and growl. 

Annnd... nevermind. 

Just that sound  really drove home how powerful the volcano is ... and how much we were at its mercy.

Johnny takes a volcano sauna.
It was warm enough to steam  up his glasses!

That would be the gift shop.

Roasting marshmallows on Volcan Pacaya. Thank you, Girl Scouts.

Click here to see all our Pacaya pictures. 

How to get to Irla's house

Derek, Bruno and Johnny on a walk in San Antonio Aguas Calientes

These are the instructions that Johnny used today for his first solo trip, on a chicken bus, to another town, to a house he had never been to:

1. Go to the bus station and ask which bus goes to San Antonio Aguas Calientes

2. When you board the bus, tell the driver or his helper that you're going to San Antonio, and that you'd like to get off at the corner with the cross statue. He'll let you know when you're at your stop.

3. At the cross, turn right and go up that street. It's either 4th Street or 4th Avenue.

4. Irla's house is the white one on the left side, between a peach house and a green house.

5. It's either number 10 or number 11, A or maybe B -- the white one.

Mind you, earlier this week it was decided that for the benefit of Johnny's Spanish skills, we should be a full immersion couple -- no ingles. As such, Johnny received the above instructions en espanol.

As his Spanish teacher said, he is very adventurous.

Good news everyone! In spite of just a few kinks, Johnny did in fact make it to Irla's (where I was waiting for him) just in time to help wrap the tolluelos (tamales).

If you're wondering what the kinks were, well...

First, when Johnny got on the bus, not many other passengers had yet boarded (there's sort of a bus schedule, but they usually just wait to depart until they reach critical mass). Johnny sat a few rows back, and by the time the driver and his helper/money collector got on, the front was full. And when I say full, I mean someone is probably sitting halfway on your lap.

He instead asked a fellow passenger, but that person was getting off earlier and wasn't too familiar with "la esquina de la cruz" since his stop was at the town before.


Johnny (Juanny) kept his eye out for a cross statue which turned out to be a bit problematic, because as it turns out, there is more than one around here.

Luckily, another person was able to point him in the right direction after Johnny handed her his paper with the clear-as-mud directions, and he found San Antonio and his stop.

I had confused 4th St. for 4th Ave. (because who really needs an exact address these days?), which would have sent Johnny to the other side of town had he not asked for "the house with the abuela who is 99 years old." That made things much easier for his kind strangers, and they pointed him to Irla's.

"Good job, Johnny, you made it!"

Congratulations to Johnny for taking a leap today!

The cemetery in San Antonio

Market day

With the guidance of our hosts, friendly Antiguenos and a handful of local publications, I'm learning to navigate Antigua. Of course much of this revolves around food: there's Dona Luisa Xicotencatl for the best homemade granola, all-natural peanut butter and warm bread fresh from the oven every day at 2 pm (we first found Dona Luisa's by following the delightful scent of banana bread from about two blocks away); Dona Gavi for vegan ice cream (my favorite flavor so far is coco); Epicure for all manner of gourmet spices, sauces and other Trader Joes provisions (which by the way, I can't even find in Denver); Cafe Condessa for a good cup of joe, the Whiskey Den (needs no explanation) and Sabe Rico for tasty, healthy lentil stews, quiche and fresh fruit smoothies in enormous, colorful glasses. There's even an organic grocery store, Organica, which has all the comforts of Whole Foods at home at about double the price (emergency-only).

But the best discovery so far is the local market, which bustles every Monday, Thursday and Saturday. This is where you go to buy your fruits and veggies for the week from your favorite vendedora. Miwa was nice enough to accompany me on my first trip, and I'm glad she did because it's kind of overwhelming, and certainly much different from a grocery trip at home.

Part of the market is outdoors and part of it winds into an indoor/outdoor labryinth of stalls overflowing with everything from produce and fresh flowers to used clothes and miscellaneous chicken parts. Here you can buy a bar of Dove soap, rice, beans, spices, a dried flower wreath, pirated DVDs, a few days' worth of tomate, aguacate, arroz and uizquil, a new pair of shades or used shoes for just 10Q, candles, meat, dog food and apparently that live turtle you've been wanting. Some sellers have shelves and tables (staked floor to ceiling) while others sit on the ground surrounded by the fruits and vegetables they hauled in.

As you pass these rows of produce altars, women call to you, "Zanahorias! Papas! Mangos a cinco! Que buscas, que buscas?" There are the sounds of music and telenovelas on static-filled screens, polite negotiation, laughter, fresh tortillas rhyhmically slapped together and sizzling.

We wound our way into the heart of the beast, squeezing past men with heavy bags of rice slung over their shoulders and bumping into women in trajes tipicos, colorful skirts and heavy woven shirts of bright colors. I forced myself to concentrate on following Miwa's quick, no-nonsense pace instead of looking around too much for fear of being lost forever.

Finally we arrived at Miwa's favorite vendedora, and began the process of pointing, collecting, counting. Of course there are no signs that say how much anything costs. It's all a business of ask and ask again until you agree.

That day, I bought 2 small eggplant, a bag of tomatoes, onions, broccoli, potatoes, two uizquil (a new veggie), and a bunch of carrots for 25 quetzales, or about $3. Then Miwa whisked me back through the windy halls, past warm marbled meet hanging from heavy hooks, silver fish with staring eyes, towers of brown eggs and children snoozing atop colorful fabrics to her preferred fruit stall where we bought banano (bunches of short bananas), mangoes and a special treat, mangoes para chupar. These are smaller, yellow mangoes that you puncture at one end, squeeze with all your might and suck the juice out of for a sweet, sticky treat.

I'm happy to say that I was able to find these two sellers again when I returned to the mercado with Johnny a couple days later. (Truly, the layout of this place is so confusing that I was quite proud of myself). There's something really fun about gathering your food on the same day as everyone else without shopping carts, price checks or fluorescent lights. Of course we learned our lesson: it is best to go earlier in the day than later, when the chicken I mentioned has been sitting out all afternoon.

Semana Santa

We arrived in Antigua at the height of Semana Santa, Holy Week, which brings in throngs of tourists from Guatemala City and around the world. Having heard so many safety tips about traveling in Guatemala (Leave your jewelry! Hide your camera! Hold on to your purse!), it was confusing to see so many people on the streets dressed to the nines and yielding iPhones. But then again, security was notably stepped up for the occasion (police, security guards and military with big guns on hand).

During Semana Santa, members of the churches around Antigua (and there are many) don somber black lace or bright purple hooded robes and process through the streets carrying large floats on their shoulders. The floats, called andas, depict dramatic Biblical scenes and make the rounds for hours on end, sometimes marching throughout the night before returning to the church from which they departed. They're accompanied by live music, usually a marching band heavy on horns and boisterous drums, (ask Irene and Sherman about the drums that passed by their hotel window around 1:00 a.m.) and other followers dispersing choking clouds of incense.

Along the procession route, people create elaborate alfombras (carpets) made of colored sawdust, sand and flowers in the streets. As the procession comes through, they trample the beautiful carpets (in fact, they seem to do a special back-and-forth on top of the alfombras just to make sure it's good and mussed). Most of the alfombras we saw were on display for only a matter of 10-20 minutes before being ground into the cracks among cobblestones.

Wikipedia will do a better job than I of explaining the significance and history of the processiones (and I encourage you to do a quick YouTube search for Semana Santa Antigua 2013 to see them in action); here are some of my own personal observations and things that caught my my attention:
- Some floats (andas) are carried by men and some by women. I was impressed that many of the ladies carrying floats wore wedges and kitten heels for the occasion. Heels on cobblestones, in 80^ heat, draped in black lace with a 50 lb share of a float on one shoulder? That is dedication to fashion, my friends. It's a choice that makes it easy to appear appropriately sad and miserable.

- The gentlemen wore flats but in their defense, they multi-tasked: many of them carried a float on one shoulder and un hijo (a kid) on the other (the kids wore kid-sized purple hooded robes). There are also special floats just for kids to carry.
- Also, if you are among those who walk for many hours, you can take a break from solemnly reflecting upon the death of Jesus to send a text message on your cell phone while processing.
- An important job is to carry a tall decorative pole alongside the float. At first I thought these people were representing shepherds, but then I realized that the andas are quite tall, while the power lines in Antigua tend to hang low over the streets. The poles are to move power lines out of the way while the andas go beneath. (This must be a relatively new role).
- Unlike the marching bands I've seen, the drummers in the procesiones don't wear their drums; they have an assistant who laboriously pushes it along on a rickety cart with small wheels (again remember: cobblestone streets).

One night, Johnny and I got stuck in a procession on our way home. It was probably 11:30 p.m. when we found ourselves in the midst of a grid-locked crowd. Those participating in the procession were carrying a rope to distinguish the boundary of their group (which was a big one) and no one was allowed to cross the street until the entire procession had passed. So we watched and enjoyed the spectacle of the glowing float approaching. And, then came the poor lad behind it, pushing another rickety cart with a generator on it.

I'm so glad we came in time to see Semana Santa, the alfombras and the processiones. In spite of the crowds, I liked getting caught up in the festivities (and sometimes literally caught in the festivities), hearing the beat of the drums and blare of the horns, watching people carefully sprinkling red and yellow sawdust in floral spirals onto their alfombras, and standing by as the dedicated penitents marched through Antigua.

We topped off the week by attending Easter service at La Catedral, the 16th century cathedral at the center of town, after which the city quickly cleared out. (My favorite part of the service was the singer, who was seated --almost hidden--at the very back of the cathedral in a plastic chair, belting out the day's tunes into a microphone. He looked like he could've been at a karaoke bar).

Happy Easter and muchos besos,
Cara y Johnny

We made it.

After much planning and even more day dreaming, "Juan Goman" and I have made it to Guatemala for our three-month travel adventure. First things first, thank you for encouraging us to pursue this idea and for cheering us on. There were many logistics to untangle along the way, but with your support we persevered and made it to the fun part: the trip itself!

FAQ:

• We saved some money, quit our jobs, disconnected our cell phones, rented our house in Denver and put our things in storage (I'd also recommend a visit to the Goodwill on Broadway as we've ensured it's fully stocked).
• We plan to travel for three months throughout Guatemala, which we chose because it came highly recommended by friends who had visited/volunteered here, and it fit our criteria: a Spanish-speaking country that neither of us had yet visited (Spanish-speaking so that Cara could navigate/practice and Johnny could learn). I also have a great opportunity to work with nonprofit Friendship Bridge (Puente de Amistad) during the trip.
• We tried not to pack too much, just one backpack each, so please excuse the repeat outfits in our photos.
• We'll have to be flexible on the vegan diet we've been following for the last eight months or so (to ensure proper nutrition and so as not to miss delights like Guatemalan pepillan). 

As to why we wanted to leave good jobs and a stable, happy home-life in the first place, that's more difficult to sum up here -- it has something to do with having caught the "travel bug," wanting to learn Spanish, the soul-draining confines of cubicle life and attending a Meet, Plan, Go meeting one fateful night.

I'll save it for another day. 

We are now in Antigua, a beautiful, tranquil colonial city surrounded by three volcanoes. (Yes, they are active, and yes, we'll be roasting marshmallows on one of them soon enough). We'll be here until the end of April, staying at Casa Menta, a wonderful shared house owned by a young Japanese couple (they also set out from Tokyo to see the world and loved Antigua so much that they decided to stay). So far, so good.

Photo bombed by a Guatemalana lady at el arco de Santa Catalina

Wish you were here! 

Cara and Johnny