Chichicastenango, Guatemala

Every Thursday and Sunday the town of Chichicastenango turns into a Mayan market probably not so different than how it would have been during the reign of their empire. Max and I found ourselves in the town by a stroke of luck in timing. After a few hot tortillas and an early morning bus we were in Chichi and pleasantly surprised as to the activity.

The pictures I took in Chichi only begin to capture the unique experience of walking around the intense market. Imagine a disturbed ant pile with rainbow colored ants. Now put yourself in the pile. That is what it felt like to be within the crowds of people. The entire center of town was draped in tarps and filled with food, artesanias, crops, and live animals. The vendors are true descendents of the Maya. They spoke Quiche and adorned the colorfully woven dresses that we had recently learned about in the Museum in Guatemala City. Various traditions were carried out in front of the cathedral and the sights, sounds, and smells of the entire afternoon will not be forgotten.

If there was ever an instance on the trip in which I had hoped I could share the experience with everyone I know, this was it. The invoked feelings can not be conveyed by picture, postcard, or blog. One can simply not have this experience without visiting Chichi on a Thursday or Sunday.

In the early evening I discovered a new favorite food. I ordered what I thought was a tamale from a street stand but was quickly given a lesson in indigenous dining by the chef. I devoured 3 hot Chuchitos and a few tacos dorados. I felt right at home sitting on the undersized plastic stool (which i nearly broke) eationg among the Mayan citizens. It is a heart-warming feeling to share similar physical features of the people around me while at the same time being at least a 1/2 foot bigger than everyone.

Our small hotel provided us with amazing views overlooking the town cemetary and the surrounding hills. We sat on top of the roof sunbathing and using up the rest of our Guatemalan cell-phone minutes. Inactivity can be amazingly fulfilling in the appropriate environment.

Lastly, if I hear another rooster crow at 5am in the morning I may just take my pocket knife and hunt for breakfast. There must have been 100 roosters in the vicinity of our hotel. Combined with constant barking of the 100 or so stray dogs in the same area, a cacophonous symphony took place in the early morning. The ruckus can not be conveyed in words. It would have been a great opportunity to gather a sound-bite, but instead I was smothering my ears with my pillow.

From Chichi we headed to the motherland, the place of our ancestors, the birthplace of Tequila, and the birthplace of Salma Hayek: MEXICO.