Tuesday brought the privilege of seeing another shrine of Maximon. I went with MW and her brother to San Andres Itzapa to see a particularly well known shrine. When we got to the gate of the temple, there were 3 small bonfires on altars. Several Mayans and one kooky British lady were praying in front of them. Several other Mayans were seated on nearby benches smoking 2 to 3 cigars simultaneously. A guatemalan with perfect English kept offering to tell us about Mashimon (and he and his friend ended up extorting a rather large tip out of easygoing MW).
Inside the temple, there were 6 ling tables where people were lighting birthday sized candles and sicking them to the table top with melted wax. One by one, people ascended the platform where the Maximon was held, and a shaman blessed them by tapping their head and arms with what looked like palm fronds. Closer inspection revealed that this Maximon was covered in plastic wrap, and further observation revealed the reason for this precaution. A woman ascended and, after praying, started dousing the Maximon alternately with perfume and liquor. More liquor than perfume. Maximon in all of his manifestations in known to drink and smoke heavily.
The inside of the temple was adorned with bricks engraved with messages of gratitude to Maximon from all of the people he has helped. It was very neat to read them all. On the way back to the car, we passed through the local market which was impressive but smelly, and just before reaching the car, a sex worker flashed MW's brother, although MW and I didn't see anything. San Andres is certainly an interesting and unusual place.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Gallaudet en Guate
Last week the Gallaudet population in Guatemala quintupled its size. N and J, a couple from Colorado Springs, came to Guatemala City to complete the adoption of their new son. Additionally, there were rumors of 3 Gallaudet undergrads roaming the city, but we were ultimately unable to get in touch with them. I got to spend a fair amount of time with N and J and their adorable hard of hearing son who is 13 months old. We used the Mariott Hotel as our base, since we could exactly play phone tag. The Mariott is like the adoption capital of the city, there are 2 floors designated for adopting families and even a "baby lounge", a communal area for parents to chat. Every other person is toting a newly adopted baby or toddler.
On Saturday, N and I went to the ASORGUA building to chat with some of the members. I was positively amazed by how seamlessly and fluently N communicated with the Deaf Guatemalans. They knew a bit of ASL and she learned GSL vocabulary like she was being paid $50 a sign. Everyone seemed to enjoy themsleves. On Monday, C, JB, and V from the ASORGUA board met up with us for dinner at Guatemala's most famous fried chicken franchise, Pollo Campero. Campero puts KFC to shame and is more of a sitdown restaurant. I'm not big on fast food but I will say that Campero is delicious. Full and happy, we snapped a few photos to docuement the international Deaf connection.
On Saturday, N and I went to the ASORGUA building to chat with some of the members. I was positively amazed by how seamlessly and fluently N communicated with the Deaf Guatemalans. They knew a bit of ASL and she learned GSL vocabulary like she was being paid $50 a sign. Everyone seemed to enjoy themsleves. On Monday, C, JB, and V from the ASORGUA board met up with us for dinner at Guatemala's most famous fried chicken franchise, Pollo Campero. Campero puts KFC to shame and is more of a sitdown restaurant. I'm not big on fast food but I will say that Campero is delicious. Full and happy, we snapped a few photos to docuement the international Deaf connection.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
3 Dog Día
The first home visit I did today was in Zone 7, and the path from the bus to the housing project was lined with stray dogs, fighting each other ferociously. FR actually picked up a concrete rock to throw in case they bothered us. They didn´t.
The second home visit was in a zona roja of zone 18, known for drugs and crime. The path from the bus to the house was marked with a dead dog (or a nearly dead dog, I wasn´t getting close enough to check, particularly because it was covered with lesions from an unidentifiable disease)
The situations of the families we met were very sad and difficult to process. On the bus ride back to my home, I got off in front of the high end shopping mall in zone 11, and walked around for a while to people watch. I´m not sure if seeing other unimpoverished people eased or compounded my guilt and frustration. On a lamp post there was a flyer for a lost dog, a well-groomed maltese that had gone missing from a nearby home. The award for finding the pet was Q2000, more than either of the families I interviewed earned in a month.
The second home visit was in a zona roja of zone 18, known for drugs and crime. The path from the bus to the house was marked with a dead dog (or a nearly dead dog, I wasn´t getting close enough to check, particularly because it was covered with lesions from an unidentifiable disease)
The situations of the families we met were very sad and difficult to process. On the bus ride back to my home, I got off in front of the high end shopping mall in zone 11, and walked around for a while to people watch. I´m not sure if seeing other unimpoverished people eased or compounded my guilt and frustration. On a lamp post there was a flyer for a lost dog, a well-groomed maltese that had gone missing from a nearby home. The award for finding the pet was Q2000, more than either of the families I interviewed earned in a month.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Chichi
On the way back to Guatemala City, we stopped in Chichicastenango, which is famous for its church and its artisan market. The market was a cross between Calcutta, Carnival in Rio, a Rainbow, and the third circle of hell.
We had to wait for a Catholic procession (pre-Easter parade) to pass before entering the market. This meant squishing up against the wall of Mayan observers, trying to take pictures and hoping we didn´t get struck by shrapnel from the firecrackers, set off willy-nilly by the shrine carriers in the procession. We then entered a labrynith of hundreds of booths selling traditional Mayan crafts. Everyone was 4 feet tall or less and shouting, except for the occasional tourist swimming upstream. We noted more than a few Mayan woman pushing past with baskets holding live turkeys strapped to their back. Lower to the ground, one could see metal barrels filled with baby turkeys, drunk persons who have chosen to sit or nap in the way of oncoming traffic, and even shorter Mayan women, who are by nature lower to the ground.
The three of us worked as a team to purchase the crafted goods on our shortlist. My father gaged the appropriate price, then I tried to barter in Spanish. They drive a hard bargain, and I´m a bleeding heart, so I would say it only went moderately well. There were points when we knew we could have gotten the price lower, but I balked, because I honestly couldn´t handle the idea of paying hard-working, dirt-poor artisans any less than the cheap prices they were offering. Weaving in hand, it was amazing that we got out of there alive.
The true gem of Chichicastenango is not the bi-weekly market, but the Catholic church at the city´s center. It is here that the first written document of the Popol Vuh was found. Popol Vuh, which means ¨Book of the Council¨ Quiché, is the main text of the Mayans, containing their creation story, an epic about hero twins, and other stories about the gods. Inside the cathedral, designed with classic Spanish architecture, groups of Mayans were holding their own religious ceremonies around small alters with incense and candles, demonstrating the aforementioned unique fusion of religion and culture.
Chichi was perhaps the most bizarre educational experience I´ve had as of yet.
We had to wait for a Catholic procession (pre-Easter parade) to pass before entering the market. This meant squishing up against the wall of Mayan observers, trying to take pictures and hoping we didn´t get struck by shrapnel from the firecrackers, set off willy-nilly by the shrine carriers in the procession. We then entered a labrynith of hundreds of booths selling traditional Mayan crafts. Everyone was 4 feet tall or less and shouting, except for the occasional tourist swimming upstream. We noted more than a few Mayan woman pushing past with baskets holding live turkeys strapped to their back. Lower to the ground, one could see metal barrels filled with baby turkeys, drunk persons who have chosen to sit or nap in the way of oncoming traffic, and even shorter Mayan women, who are by nature lower to the ground.
The three of us worked as a team to purchase the crafted goods on our shortlist. My father gaged the appropriate price, then I tried to barter in Spanish. They drive a hard bargain, and I´m a bleeding heart, so I would say it only went moderately well. There were points when we knew we could have gotten the price lower, but I balked, because I honestly couldn´t handle the idea of paying hard-working, dirt-poor artisans any less than the cheap prices they were offering. Weaving in hand, it was amazing that we got out of there alive.
The true gem of Chichicastenango is not the bi-weekly market, but the Catholic church at the city´s center. It is here that the first written document of the Popol Vuh was found. Popol Vuh, which means ¨Book of the Council¨ Quiché, is the main text of the Mayans, containing their creation story, an epic about hero twins, and other stories about the gods. Inside the cathedral, designed with classic Spanish architecture, groups of Mayans were holding their own religious ceremonies around small alters with incense and candles, demonstrating the aforementioned unique fusion of religion and culture.
Chichi was perhaps the most bizarre educational experience I´ve had as of yet.
Maximón
Maximon is described aptly by Professor W. Ikipedia:
¨a saint worshipped in various forms by Maya people of several towns in the highlands of Western Guatemala. The origins of his cult are not very well understood by outsiders to the different Mayan religions, but Maximón is believed to be a form of the pre-Colombian Maya god Mam, blended with influences from Catholicism...Where Maximón is venerated, he is represented by an effigy which resides in a different house each year, being moved in a procession during Holy Week. During the rest of the year, devotees visit Maximón in his chosen residence, where his shrine is usually attended by two people from the representing Cofradia who keep the shrine in order and pass offerings from visitors to the effigy. Worshippers offer money, spirits and cigars or cigarettes to gain his favour in exchange for good health, good crops, and marriage counseling, amongst other favours. The effigy invariably has a lit cigarette or cigar in its mouth, and in some places, it will have a hole in its mouth to allow the attendants to give it alcohol to drink.¨
Praying to Maximon is considered by Evangelicals to be the ugliest form of ungodliness, but the Mayan who embrace him hold fast to an eccentric and fascinating set of beliefs. The most impressive part is the way that they´ve incorporated him into Catholism, blending the 2 religions (there is often Jesus iconography on or around the shrine to Maximón). Despite our tourguide´s wealth of knowledge, we coudln´t quite wrap our heads around the fusion of faiths, which seemed contradictory. Nonetheless, it is a classic example of the adaptability of the Mayan people, who have molded themselves to the impositions of Catholic conquistadors while retaining components of their own spiritual life.
¨a saint worshipped in various forms by Maya people of several towns in the highlands of Western Guatemala. The origins of his cult are not very well understood by outsiders to the different Mayan religions, but Maximón is believed to be a form of the pre-Colombian Maya god Mam, blended with influences from Catholicism...Where Maximón is venerated, he is represented by an effigy which resides in a different house each year, being moved in a procession during Holy Week. During the rest of the year, devotees visit Maximón in his chosen residence, where his shrine is usually attended by two people from the representing Cofradia who keep the shrine in order and pass offerings from visitors to the effigy. Worshippers offer money, spirits and cigars or cigarettes to gain his favour in exchange for good health, good crops, and marriage counseling, amongst other favours. The effigy invariably has a lit cigarette or cigar in its mouth, and in some places, it will have a hole in its mouth to allow the attendants to give it alcohol to drink.¨
Praying to Maximon is considered by Evangelicals to be the ugliest form of ungodliness, but the Mayan who embrace him hold fast to an eccentric and fascinating set of beliefs. The most impressive part is the way that they´ve incorporated him into Catholism, blending the 2 religions (there is often Jesus iconography on or around the shrine to Maximón). Despite our tourguide´s wealth of knowledge, we coudln´t quite wrap our heads around the fusion of faiths, which seemed contradictory. Nonetheless, it is a classic example of the adaptability of the Mayan people, who have molded themselves to the impositions of Catholic conquistadors while retaining components of their own spiritual life.
El Lago Atitlan
We hit the road early for a 3 hour drive to Lake Atitlan, lauded by Adlous Huxley among others as the most magnificent lake on earth. They weren´t kidding. Forgive my use of mindless cliché, but it really was more beautiful than I ever imagined. As card-carrying tourists, we have dozens of photos to prove it, but they won´t do the lake much justice. The Hotel Atitlan, too, was overflowing with history and character. Our room contained 3 twin-sized cots, all in a row, with intricately carved wooden bedposts. The gardens of this Inn were also gorgeous (they really know how to do it right here in Guate, considering the plethora of indigenous wild flowers).
We met our excellent tour guide mid-morning and boarded a small motorboat to begin our hop around the lake. Gliding (and sometimes bumping) through the water was so lovely and humbling it was easy to lose all sense of time. The first town we stopped at was San Juan La Laguna, populated by traditional Mayans who have successfully formed artisan co-ops. The streets of the town were squaky clean, (which is REMARKABLE in this country) and the women´s attire was almost as impressive as the steep hills (My father and I came to the concensus that in order to traverse Guatemala, one needs to channel one´s inner mountain goat). We saw the last remaining artisan cooperative that produces and uses only natural dyes for the threat they weave in their tapestries. Derived from boiled leaves, bark and berries, the colors are smooth and indelible, though not as vibrant as the synthetic dyes that most Mayans now utilize.
After visiting a homeopathic garden and a shrine to Maximon, a Mayan diety of sorts with the most intriguing eccentricities (Please refer to Mashimon post), we he headed across the lake to Santiago for lunch. Santiago had another statue of Maximon, over which a chosen group of men were keeping vigil. This one was wearing no fewer than 12 Western-style silk neckties. When we entered the hut to see him, a boy child farted and everyone became hsyterical. We put a few Quetzales in the dish in front of the shrine and made our way out. Santiago is also the site of a beautiful Catholic cathedral, which incorporates Mayan religion in small, iconic ways.
In the evening we went to Panahachel for dinner. ¨Pana¨, as it is dubbed by Guatemalans, is the party capital of the lake, and is famous for its bars, clubs, and debauchery. Needless to say, we 3 nerds had had enough of it by the time we´d finished dinner. Instead of taking a taxi back to our hotel, we opted for a took-took, which is the love child of a rickshaw and vespa. The driver spent about 10 minutes zig-zagging the lagging mo-ped up the steep hill, dragging the weight of 3 food-filled gringoes. We all got a good night´s sleep to prepare for Sunday in Chichicastenango.
We met our excellent tour guide mid-morning and boarded a small motorboat to begin our hop around the lake. Gliding (and sometimes bumping) through the water was so lovely and humbling it was easy to lose all sense of time. The first town we stopped at was San Juan La Laguna, populated by traditional Mayans who have successfully formed artisan co-ops. The streets of the town were squaky clean, (which is REMARKABLE in this country) and the women´s attire was almost as impressive as the steep hills (My father and I came to the concensus that in order to traverse Guatemala, one needs to channel one´s inner mountain goat). We saw the last remaining artisan cooperative that produces and uses only natural dyes for the threat they weave in their tapestries. Derived from boiled leaves, bark and berries, the colors are smooth and indelible, though not as vibrant as the synthetic dyes that most Mayans now utilize.
After visiting a homeopathic garden and a shrine to Maximon, a Mayan diety of sorts with the most intriguing eccentricities (Please refer to Mashimon post), we he headed across the lake to Santiago for lunch. Santiago had another statue of Maximon, over which a chosen group of men were keeping vigil. This one was wearing no fewer than 12 Western-style silk neckties. When we entered the hut to see him, a boy child farted and everyone became hsyterical. We put a few Quetzales in the dish in front of the shrine and made our way out. Santiago is also the site of a beautiful Catholic cathedral, which incorporates Mayan religion in small, iconic ways.
In the evening we went to Panahachel for dinner. ¨Pana¨, as it is dubbed by Guatemalans, is the party capital of the lake, and is famous for its bars, clubs, and debauchery. Needless to say, we 3 nerds had had enough of it by the time we´d finished dinner. Instead of taking a taxi back to our hotel, we opted for a took-took, which is the love child of a rickshaw and vespa. The driver spent about 10 minutes zig-zagging the lagging mo-ped up the steep hill, dragging the weight of 3 food-filled gringoes. We all got a good night´s sleep to prepare for Sunday in Chichicastenango.
Mis Papas
Last Friday was the start of another fantastic adventure, one that included my favorite parents! I was thrilled to see them rolling their suitcases out of the Guatemala City arrivals terminal. We headed immediately to Antigua, where we met my supervisor MW. They took a guided tour of the historic churches while I met with MW, and we reconvened in the evening at their hotel, La Posada de Don Rodrigo (supposedly the oldest Inn in Central America). The rooms were old and lovely, but were upstaged by the stunning inner courtyard, which yielded a postcard-like view of the Agua volcano. We ate perhaps the tastiest dinner I´ve had since I arrived at La Fonda de la Calle Real, and hit the sack to rest up for our weekend at Lake Atitlan.
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