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So here's a sort of summary of my Guatemala diary. It's long--partly I'm writing for various people who may consider going. I'm also using it as a place to keep some links for myself to use in later trips.
Pictures: A few of the hundreds of pictures I took are at http://www.flickr.com/photos/75375370@N00/sets/72157614193528963/
Where I was: In Guatemala I lived for two and a half weeks in San Pedro La Laguna, on the shore of Lake Atitlan (http://www.atitlan.net/) lake formed in the caldera of a collapsed giant volcano, now surrounded by mountains and newer, smaller volcanoes. I attended Escuela Cooperativa (http://www.cooperativeschoolsanpedro.com/index.html) in San Pedro. Then I spent another four days in Antigua (http://www.aroundantigua.com/antigua.htm ), the colonial capital of Guatemala (in the 17th century, that included Chiapas and Yucatan and all of Central America except Panama), which was abandoned after a severe earthquake in 1773 and then gradually rebuilt in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. I stayed at Posada Lazos Fuertes (http://www.posadalazosfuertes.com/index.html) in Antigua. (I didn't get to all the towns around Lake Atitlan, to Tikal or anywhere in the Petén, or to Xela (Quetzaltenango)--this time. I hope and plan to go back, for sure.
If you're going: Internet and laundry are cheap and easy to find in both places. For phones in San Pedro, there are usually cheap phones at internet places (in San Pedro, I liked the one across from D'Noz and another, German-run place down the street--in Antigua, my hotel had free internet). You can walk all over both towns, and tuktuks are very cheap. I felt safe alone walking after dark in both places, but of course pickpockets are always around, so don't wear lots of jewelry, iPods, computers, etc.--though most internet places had WiFi and lots of people had computers. Transportation on the highway I think is best arranged through a good agency (Big Foot in San Pedro, hotels in Antigua). I paid to be picked up by the school, because outside the Guatemala airport is a big hangout of banditos, I heard. Take sandals, a hat, sunscreen, and a sleeping bag (the nights are cool and they don't give you many blankets, even in hotels). And empty luggage! I flew Taca Airlines out of Chicago for around $300 round trip.
Beautiful Place: The pictures make this much clear, I'm sure, but I just want to remind you that it's better than that! I can't take a photo that shows what it's like to kayak on a lake inside the caldera of a volcano (that's what Lake Atitlan is) and I can't catch the incredible moonlit nights and all the shifts in clouds and fog. On the downside--the places where the coffee hulls are dumped smell like…dumps. And they're everywhere around the lake. There's not a lot of street litter on the main streets, but in the alleys, a bit more. Still, Antigua and San Pedro were remarkably clean. I also can't take a picture that shows the color of jacaranda trees, those things that look like wisteria growing upright. I especially loved kayaking on the lake--I could drift right up to a pelican, close enough to touch. The ducks were less forgiving. I didn't climb any volcanoes, on this trip--saving something for later--but you can do that, or ride a horse (in San Pedro at least). I took several trips on the main Atiteco transports: tuktuks and lanchas (tuktuks run on the town's cobblestone streets, and are hybrid motor-tricycles-cars. Lanchas are pretty much johnboats (made out of bondo) with roofs and zip across the lake from town to tiny town with construction equipment, backpackers, billy goats…). I did not ride in a picop (standing up in the back of a pickup truck, holding on to a railing, while you zip around hairpin curves through the mountains). I didn't get to Panajachel, but here's a video: http://www.earthoria.com/video-panajachel-at-lake-atitlan-guatemala.html
Wonderful People: I don't take many pictures of people (see the shot in the Antigua market, where a girl holds her hand up to shield herself from the camera---I paid the weaver woman for her picture, and she was very happy with that). But I don't know of any place I've traveled where people have been friendlier, warmer, more patient. In a way, San Pedro and Antigua are like giant language schools. Most people in the shops and restaurants know that gringos are probably there to learn Spanish, and they patiently speak slowly and decipher our mumbling. Tourism is Guatemala's biggest industry, but I think the warmth and courtesy have deeper roots in the culture. On the downside, people are poor, and the dependence on tourism and immigrant remittances mean that La Crisis affects Guatemaltecos even more than it does us. The level of poverty is something we don't see much here, since middle class can mean that the whole family lives in one room, and in Antigua, the disabled beggars were many. Living in a room made of corn stalks and corroded aluminum sheets isn't unusual. And of course not everyone is nice. The roads between tourist destinations have plenty of banditos, and rich Guatemaltecos are kidnapped for ransom regularly.
My school: I was pleased with how much I learned. The method of one-on-one instruction really works. I met with my teacher, Juan, for 4 or 5 hours a day (my choice), with a 30 minute break. Usually we talked about 2/3 of that time, and went over grammar the rest of the time. Juan made me feel free to talk without worrying about every tiny error, but would correct egregious things that we had already studied. I could have handled a good bit more homework, and he did find a book for me to read and I found others. We didn't have books of our own--he wrote out the basics, and I took home his copy of a book for my exercises. When we talked, Juan (my teacher) clearly geared his speed and vocabulary and idioms to my level, but always threw in a little more than I knew, but rarely so much that I couldn't guess from context. Guatemalan Spanish has an intonation that's different from Mexican and definitely different from the Spanish of Puerto Rico and Spain, so possibly it wouldn't be right for very advanced students who want to live in one of those places, but for a person at my low-intermediate level, it was perfect-clear, correct, and blessedly slow (especially if I asked for a repetition or just looked bewildered). Most people around the lake grow up speaking Tzu'tujil, a Maya language related to Kiché, and some of the older people (like my teacher's abuela) don't speak Spanish at all. Tzu'tujil is fascinating to hear--it uses glottal clicks like African languages and lots of velars and alveopalatals (sh, ch, etc) like German. I made a good bit of progress at the school, up through all the indicative tenses, but more important is how much I think I improved in vocabulary and fluency of speaking and listening. Also, the school makes a point of helping students learn the culture. My teacher (and I think most others) took me to meet just about everyone in his family, from his gorgeous baby Pedro, his abuela who does fine weaving on a hipstrap loom at the age of 90, his mother who sells tomatoes in the market, and his friend Don Feliciano, a former mayor of the town who has done some archaeological digging and also makes carvings in Maya style (including one of Osama Bin Laden as a devil). The school offered movies once a week (in Spanish, but with subtitles) about the political situation--movies like Voces Innocentes about child soldiers in El Salvador; Hombres Armados , a John Sayles movie about the civil war in Guatemala; and Imaginando Argentina, about the desaparecidos. Also, one day each week we had a speaker (a wonderful older man from one of the most important Maya families in town, Don Miguel Chavajay) who talked on things like the peace accords (not working well) and the Maya calendar. Then we talked with our families and teachers about the movies and Don Miguel's talks. The school organized weekend activities, but various problems meant that I didn't go either of the weekends I was there (the first was zip-lining down the mountain, and I Don't Do Heights, and the second was camping but a huge windstorm came up). The school also showed a video about the family they're building a house for, and took us on weekly visits to the families they help in the community--each teacher and student took a bag of groceries to visit. The houses I visited made me see that the family I lived with was actually middle-class, by San Pedro standards. Some of the older widows had very little to eat, not much furniture or clothes, and little health care. And finally, the school offered salsa lessons once a week! Students were mostly from English speaking countries (all of them), but some from other places, and just in the time I was there, ages ranged from 6 to 66. The biggest group was kids just out of college, but there were quite a few retirees, families, and various others. There's a video about the school made by one of the students at http://www.earthoria.com/video-cooperativa-spanish-school-in-san-pedro-guatemala.html
Food Guatemalan food, at least the everyday food in homes and restaurants, is good, but not as spicy and rich as Mexican food. The fruits are delicious--mostly papaya and melons (mangos are expensive in the mountains), and avocados are heavenly (they call people from Antigua Panchos Verdes, or Green Bellies, because they eat so many avocados). A local specialty that my family served are chuchitos (means little dogs), a kind of small tamale, usually with chicken. Eggs! Sometimes we had eggs two or even three times a day--and meat appeared rarely. This was probably because my family had a lot of people and not much money--other students reported eating more meat. Tina, the madre in my family, had worked in a restaurant and made some very good Guatemalan versions of gringo food, like hamburguesas with guacamole and cabbage. The very best is the little Guatemalan tortillas, about five inches across and a little fatter than Mexican tortillas--kind of like corn meal pitas. They make them by slapping them in the palms of their hands and cooking them on the metal top of a wood-fired stove. In Antigua, I also loved the Flan de Antigua--flan on top of a layer of cooked figs. I also ate some wonderful food at some ex-pat cafés in both San Pedro and Antigua. A great chicken soup called Jocom, a lime soup, wonderful sausages, and everywhere, of course, black beans, fresh cheese, and fried plantains (even though sometimes in the family they were really more like bananas). Liquiados, which are like smoothies with fresh fruit, ice, and water--and wonderful rum! Although it always came with a glass of Coco-Cola on the side, even when it was lovely aged dark rum which I would hate to mess up that way. Places to eat in San Pedro: Ventana Blue, Puerta de la Playa (tables right on the lake, and wonderful people who run both--Blake, an expat, and Santos), Le Jardin (French expats this time), and D'noz (also on the lake, near the Pana dock--has free movies and a lending library and internet and phone). In Antigua: Best of all is La Peña del Sol (another bunch of great expats), and Don Roderigo. I also liked DaVinci, an Italian place (expats again). In San Marcos: Aaculaax (http://www.aaculaax.com/) --but that's wonderful in many more ways than just food--I plan to spend some time there next time I go.
My family My family was the embodiment of hospitality and warmth. The father, Ruben Gonzalez, was an elementary school teacher (his students were around 12, he said, and he taught them all subjects, in a three and a half hour school day). I expect his training was from the secondary schools, not college. He got up at 5 and took a picop at 6 to travel to his school up in the mountains, and got home around 2. Tina, his wife, had been the princess of the town, and still had enormous charm. She too got up early--I could hear her washing clothes in cold water before the sun rose, and then they had to grind corn, chop wood for the cooking fire (though they also had a gas stove and a microwave, they mainly used the wood stove for most cooking), and fix breakfast for us and the kids (an 11 year old boy, Marvin, a 9 year old girl, Everly, and another girl, Ana, who I think was about 7). Their house was a row of rooms--kitchen, dining room, three bedrooms, and bathroom (toilet and shower), but the family lived all five in one room to make money by boarding students (me and a young guy from Vermont named Sam) in the other two rooms. Each room opened into a courtyard with a high concrete fence and iron gate, and there was an orange tree, a lime tree, and a hammock in the courtyard, along with three coldwater sinks (one for clothes, one for dishes, one small one for hands)--there were also a lot of rocks that Ruben was breaking up and a pile of wood, and a big metal bin for corn. On the roof (most of the roofs in town had iron rebars sticking up, as though the house were unfinished) were clothes lines, pump, and corn grinder). This family was Catholic, and had parents, sisters and brothers, cousins, etc. living in town. We ate all three meals with them, six days a week. but on Sunday we were on our own and they went to visit family. The town's only about 13000, so I expect most are related in some way--and sure enough, a death in the family revealed that Tina's cousin was married to the cousin of Juan, my teacher. The family took their work with us seriously, always trying to talk with us, even the kids. The kids were totally delightful--the last night they put on a fashion show, with the girls striking poses like runway models, and then had these weird little eggs that they cracked over each other's heads (and ours) so that a bunch of sparkly confetti fell out. They loved to sing the Juanes song "Tengo La Camisa Negra" (I feel sure they didn't understand the lyrics or the symbolism of black shirts!) and they were always playing with their friends and the kids of the woman who came to help Tina, Nicolasa. Nicolasa's sons loved to say "Good morning, Nahnsi!" to me in English, and to sneak up and tickle me. Mostly I heard laughter there, and never anger. It happens though--I saw a fight in the street outside. And sadly, on Sunday, while the Protestants had lots of singing and revivals, and the Catholics had mass, the cantinas had their faithful, too--passed out drunks on the streets were a common Sunday sight. Students who want an option that's a little more private can try Rancho de la Rose: http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=42356597314&h=Fz9Ol&u=W6P19
Religion The original religion there is Maya (some interesting notes at http://www.atitlan.net/video/mayan-religion.htm). Then came the Spanish bringing Catholicism, but often people went to the Catholic Church but remained Maya in beliefs in practice. Elizabeth Bell does fascinating tours of Antigua and took us to crypts in Catholic ruins that are now used for Maya prayer, and there are many sites in the forests around San Pedro that are used for Maya prayer. The town of Santiago Atitlan near San Pedro (a great lancha ride away) is home to one of the most devout groups of Maya devoted to the protector figure Maximón (the one who wears a hat, smokes cigarettes, and drinks rum). He moves from house to house in Santiago--I went with a guide to visit and was fortunate enough to be there when they were doing a ceremony for an old man from up in the mountains who was hoping to cure his arthritis. The room was filled with Maximón's guardians, the intercessor, and the family of the man, and the life-sized Maximón sat in one chair facing the man who was dressed like Maximón (suit, broad-brimmed black hat with scarf trailing from it). There were a lot of candles, a censor made of coathangers and can burning Maya incense (http://www.wide-format-printers.org/FLAAR_report_covers/705193_Prossessing_incense.pdf) which smells wonderful, and a stand for money, rum, and an ashtray, and the guardians kept a burning cigarette in Maximón's mouth while the prayers (in Tzu'tujil) went on for about an hour, and then the family prayed while they gave Maximón some rum. Meanwhile, in the background, a woman was selling rum in baggies (no bottle!) out the back door. Eventually the family gave about $25 (probably a week's salary) to Maximón and the ceremony ended. However, this town of Santiago was remarkable during the oppression and terror of the 80's and 90's--the people were able to drive out the army of Rios Montt, who had been killing and disappearing people all over the country for years (http://www.santiagoatitlan.com/History/Uprising/uprisinge.html) --maybe Maximón helped! I also saw a Catholic ? funeral, which was a coffin with elaborately carved handles being carried by some men, surrounded by a group of women in special shawls, each of whom carried a streamer that went to the coffin. Behind them were many family and friends, and at the end of the procession a pickup with a loudspeaker playing music. They went through the streets and up to the cemetery. I also went to visit a curandera, to work on the arthritis in my spine. I went about four times, and each time she did a massage that used short intense (but not like Rolfing!) rubs at certain spots around my back. It seems to have helped--I had some twinges from the cold in Chicago, but nothing like what I usually have in the winter. Juan, my teacher, said she had a don, a special gift that can't be learned but must be inborn. He also told me that in San Pedro there are people with a greater gift. These people don't sleep, but stay awake all night and guard the town against anything evil that might come in. They each have zones and send energy to each other, these Guardias de la Noche. The night before I'd walked through the streets and seen the full moon on the lake, and thought I'd never been in such a peaceful place. Other people have had similar experiences there: http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=42356597314&h=Fz9Ol&u=W6P19 and http://www.earthoria.com/some-myths-about-lake-atitlan-guatemala.html Of course, all this Maya magic has attracted lots of people with spiritual interests from all over, and the town of San Marcos especially has several centers where people from the US, Germany, and elsewhere teach and practice various forms of spirituality, some connected with Maya teachings and others not. I practiced yoga with a teacher from San Marcos, an American, and eventually went over there. It's very tiny and peaceful, and mostly of the little streets wander through trees, though up the hill are some concrete buildings and cobbled streets. I think if I go back, I'll spend at least a few days in San Marcos--see why at http://www.lonelyplanet.tv/Clip.aspx?key=69BEF166FC775421 Finally, there are Protestants, who had many revivals and have many churches around town. I think the people who convert to the Protestant religions (Baptist, Presbyterian, Jehovah's Witness, Assembly of God, etc) forsake their Maya beliefs. There were lots of Christian mottos around town on walls and on tuktuks--Jesus is Lord, God is our savior, Blessed Virgin, etc.
Lots more to say, especially about politics and wars past and present, but I doubt anyone can read more! But if you're going, let me know if you have questions.
Pictures: A few of the hundreds of pictures I took are at http://www.flickr.com/photos/75375370@N00/sets/72157614193528963/
Where I was: In Guatemala I lived for two and a half weeks in San Pedro La Laguna, on the shore of Lake Atitlan (http://www.atitlan.net/) lake formed in the caldera of a collapsed giant volcano, now surrounded by mountains and newer, smaller volcanoes. I attended Escuela Cooperativa (http://www.cooperativeschoolsanpedro.com/index.html) in San Pedro. Then I spent another four days in Antigua (http://www.aroundantigua.com/antigua.htm ), the colonial capital of Guatemala (in the 17th century, that included Chiapas and Yucatan and all of Central America except Panama), which was abandoned after a severe earthquake in 1773 and then gradually rebuilt in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. I stayed at Posada Lazos Fuertes (http://www.posadalazosfuertes.com/index.html) in Antigua. (I didn't get to all the towns around Lake Atitlan, to Tikal or anywhere in the Petén, or to Xela (Quetzaltenango)--this time. I hope and plan to go back, for sure.
If you're going: Internet and laundry are cheap and easy to find in both places. For phones in San Pedro, there are usually cheap phones at internet places (in San Pedro, I liked the one across from D'Noz and another, German-run place down the street--in Antigua, my hotel had free internet). You can walk all over both towns, and tuktuks are very cheap. I felt safe alone walking after dark in both places, but of course pickpockets are always around, so don't wear lots of jewelry, iPods, computers, etc.--though most internet places had WiFi and lots of people had computers. Transportation on the highway I think is best arranged through a good agency (Big Foot in San Pedro, hotels in Antigua). I paid to be picked up by the school, because outside the Guatemala airport is a big hangout of banditos, I heard. Take sandals, a hat, sunscreen, and a sleeping bag (the nights are cool and they don't give you many blankets, even in hotels). And empty luggage! I flew Taca Airlines out of Chicago for around $300 round trip.
Beautiful Place: The pictures make this much clear, I'm sure, but I just want to remind you that it's better than that! I can't take a photo that shows what it's like to kayak on a lake inside the caldera of a volcano (that's what Lake Atitlan is) and I can't catch the incredible moonlit nights and all the shifts in clouds and fog. On the downside--the places where the coffee hulls are dumped smell like…dumps. And they're everywhere around the lake. There's not a lot of street litter on the main streets, but in the alleys, a bit more. Still, Antigua and San Pedro were remarkably clean. I also can't take a picture that shows the color of jacaranda trees, those things that look like wisteria growing upright. I especially loved kayaking on the lake--I could drift right up to a pelican, close enough to touch. The ducks were less forgiving. I didn't climb any volcanoes, on this trip--saving something for later--but you can do that, or ride a horse (in San Pedro at least). I took several trips on the main Atiteco transports: tuktuks and lanchas (tuktuks run on the town's cobblestone streets, and are hybrid motor-tricycles-cars. Lanchas are pretty much johnboats (made out of bondo) with roofs and zip across the lake from town to tiny town with construction equipment, backpackers, billy goats…). I did not ride in a picop (standing up in the back of a pickup truck, holding on to a railing, while you zip around hairpin curves through the mountains). I didn't get to Panajachel, but here's a video: http://www.earthoria.com/video-panajachel-at-lake-atitlan-guatemala.html
Wonderful People: I don't take many pictures of people (see the shot in the Antigua market, where a girl holds her hand up to shield herself from the camera---I paid the weaver woman for her picture, and she was very happy with that). But I don't know of any place I've traveled where people have been friendlier, warmer, more patient. In a way, San Pedro and Antigua are like giant language schools. Most people in the shops and restaurants know that gringos are probably there to learn Spanish, and they patiently speak slowly and decipher our mumbling. Tourism is Guatemala's biggest industry, but I think the warmth and courtesy have deeper roots in the culture. On the downside, people are poor, and the dependence on tourism and immigrant remittances mean that La Crisis affects Guatemaltecos even more than it does us. The level of poverty is something we don't see much here, since middle class can mean that the whole family lives in one room, and in Antigua, the disabled beggars were many. Living in a room made of corn stalks and corroded aluminum sheets isn't unusual. And of course not everyone is nice. The roads between tourist destinations have plenty of banditos, and rich Guatemaltecos are kidnapped for ransom regularly.
My school: I was pleased with how much I learned. The method of one-on-one instruction really works. I met with my teacher, Juan, for 4 or 5 hours a day (my choice), with a 30 minute break. Usually we talked about 2/3 of that time, and went over grammar the rest of the time. Juan made me feel free to talk without worrying about every tiny error, but would correct egregious things that we had already studied. I could have handled a good bit more homework, and he did find a book for me to read and I found others. We didn't have books of our own--he wrote out the basics, and I took home his copy of a book for my exercises. When we talked, Juan (my teacher) clearly geared his speed and vocabulary and idioms to my level, but always threw in a little more than I knew, but rarely so much that I couldn't guess from context. Guatemalan Spanish has an intonation that's different from Mexican and definitely different from the Spanish of Puerto Rico and Spain, so possibly it wouldn't be right for very advanced students who want to live in one of those places, but for a person at my low-intermediate level, it was perfect-clear, correct, and blessedly slow (especially if I asked for a repetition or just looked bewildered). Most people around the lake grow up speaking Tzu'tujil, a Maya language related to Kiché, and some of the older people (like my teacher's abuela) don't speak Spanish at all. Tzu'tujil is fascinating to hear--it uses glottal clicks like African languages and lots of velars and alveopalatals (sh, ch, etc) like German. I made a good bit of progress at the school, up through all the indicative tenses, but more important is how much I think I improved in vocabulary and fluency of speaking and listening. Also, the school makes a point of helping students learn the culture. My teacher (and I think most others) took me to meet just about everyone in his family, from his gorgeous baby Pedro, his abuela who does fine weaving on a hipstrap loom at the age of 90, his mother who sells tomatoes in the market, and his friend Don Feliciano, a former mayor of the town who has done some archaeological digging and also makes carvings in Maya style (including one of Osama Bin Laden as a devil). The school offered movies once a week (in Spanish, but with subtitles) about the political situation--movies like Voces Innocentes about child soldiers in El Salvador; Hombres Armados , a John Sayles movie about the civil war in Guatemala; and Imaginando Argentina, about the desaparecidos. Also, one day each week we had a speaker (a wonderful older man from one of the most important Maya families in town, Don Miguel Chavajay) who talked on things like the peace accords (not working well) and the Maya calendar. Then we talked with our families and teachers about the movies and Don Miguel's talks. The school organized weekend activities, but various problems meant that I didn't go either of the weekends I was there (the first was zip-lining down the mountain, and I Don't Do Heights, and the second was camping but a huge windstorm came up). The school also showed a video about the family they're building a house for, and took us on weekly visits to the families they help in the community--each teacher and student took a bag of groceries to visit. The houses I visited made me see that the family I lived with was actually middle-class, by San Pedro standards. Some of the older widows had very little to eat, not much furniture or clothes, and little health care. And finally, the school offered salsa lessons once a week! Students were mostly from English speaking countries (all of them), but some from other places, and just in the time I was there, ages ranged from 6 to 66. The biggest group was kids just out of college, but there were quite a few retirees, families, and various others. There's a video about the school made by one of the students at http://www.earthoria.com/video-cooperativa-spanish-school-in-san-pedro-guatemala.html
Food Guatemalan food, at least the everyday food in homes and restaurants, is good, but not as spicy and rich as Mexican food. The fruits are delicious--mostly papaya and melons (mangos are expensive in the mountains), and avocados are heavenly (they call people from Antigua Panchos Verdes, or Green Bellies, because they eat so many avocados). A local specialty that my family served are chuchitos (means little dogs), a kind of small tamale, usually with chicken. Eggs! Sometimes we had eggs two or even three times a day--and meat appeared rarely. This was probably because my family had a lot of people and not much money--other students reported eating more meat. Tina, the madre in my family, had worked in a restaurant and made some very good Guatemalan versions of gringo food, like hamburguesas with guacamole and cabbage. The very best is the little Guatemalan tortillas, about five inches across and a little fatter than Mexican tortillas--kind of like corn meal pitas. They make them by slapping them in the palms of their hands and cooking them on the metal top of a wood-fired stove. In Antigua, I also loved the Flan de Antigua--flan on top of a layer of cooked figs. I also ate some wonderful food at some ex-pat cafés in both San Pedro and Antigua. A great chicken soup called Jocom, a lime soup, wonderful sausages, and everywhere, of course, black beans, fresh cheese, and fried plantains (even though sometimes in the family they were really more like bananas). Liquiados, which are like smoothies with fresh fruit, ice, and water--and wonderful rum! Although it always came with a glass of Coco-Cola on the side, even when it was lovely aged dark rum which I would hate to mess up that way. Places to eat in San Pedro: Ventana Blue, Puerta de la Playa (tables right on the lake, and wonderful people who run both--Blake, an expat, and Santos), Le Jardin (French expats this time), and D'noz (also on the lake, near the Pana dock--has free movies and a lending library and internet and phone). In Antigua: Best of all is La Peña del Sol (another bunch of great expats), and Don Roderigo. I also liked DaVinci, an Italian place (expats again). In San Marcos: Aaculaax (http://www.aaculaax.com/) --but that's wonderful in many more ways than just food--I plan to spend some time there next time I go.
My family My family was the embodiment of hospitality and warmth. The father, Ruben Gonzalez, was an elementary school teacher (his students were around 12, he said, and he taught them all subjects, in a three and a half hour school day). I expect his training was from the secondary schools, not college. He got up at 5 and took a picop at 6 to travel to his school up in the mountains, and got home around 2. Tina, his wife, had been the princess of the town, and still had enormous charm. She too got up early--I could hear her washing clothes in cold water before the sun rose, and then they had to grind corn, chop wood for the cooking fire (though they also had a gas stove and a microwave, they mainly used the wood stove for most cooking), and fix breakfast for us and the kids (an 11 year old boy, Marvin, a 9 year old girl, Everly, and another girl, Ana, who I think was about 7). Their house was a row of rooms--kitchen, dining room, three bedrooms, and bathroom (toilet and shower), but the family lived all five in one room to make money by boarding students (me and a young guy from Vermont named Sam) in the other two rooms. Each room opened into a courtyard with a high concrete fence and iron gate, and there was an orange tree, a lime tree, and a hammock in the courtyard, along with three coldwater sinks (one for clothes, one for dishes, one small one for hands)--there were also a lot of rocks that Ruben was breaking up and a pile of wood, and a big metal bin for corn. On the roof (most of the roofs in town had iron rebars sticking up, as though the house were unfinished) were clothes lines, pump, and corn grinder). This family was Catholic, and had parents, sisters and brothers, cousins, etc. living in town. We ate all three meals with them, six days a week. but on Sunday we were on our own and they went to visit family. The town's only about 13000, so I expect most are related in some way--and sure enough, a death in the family revealed that Tina's cousin was married to the cousin of Juan, my teacher. The family took their work with us seriously, always trying to talk with us, even the kids. The kids were totally delightful--the last night they put on a fashion show, with the girls striking poses like runway models, and then had these weird little eggs that they cracked over each other's heads (and ours) so that a bunch of sparkly confetti fell out. They loved to sing the Juanes song "Tengo La Camisa Negra" (I feel sure they didn't understand the lyrics or the symbolism of black shirts!) and they were always playing with their friends and the kids of the woman who came to help Tina, Nicolasa. Nicolasa's sons loved to say "Good morning, Nahnsi!" to me in English, and to sneak up and tickle me. Mostly I heard laughter there, and never anger. It happens though--I saw a fight in the street outside. And sadly, on Sunday, while the Protestants had lots of singing and revivals, and the Catholics had mass, the cantinas had their faithful, too--passed out drunks on the streets were a common Sunday sight. Students who want an option that's a little more private can try Rancho de la Rose: http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=42356597314&h=Fz9Ol&u=W6P19
Religion The original religion there is Maya (some interesting notes at http://www.atitlan.net/video/mayan-religion.htm). Then came the Spanish bringing Catholicism, but often people went to the Catholic Church but remained Maya in beliefs in practice. Elizabeth Bell does fascinating tours of Antigua and took us to crypts in Catholic ruins that are now used for Maya prayer, and there are many sites in the forests around San Pedro that are used for Maya prayer. The town of Santiago Atitlan near San Pedro (a great lancha ride away) is home to one of the most devout groups of Maya devoted to the protector figure Maximón (the one who wears a hat, smokes cigarettes, and drinks rum). He moves from house to house in Santiago--I went with a guide to visit and was fortunate enough to be there when they were doing a ceremony for an old man from up in the mountains who was hoping to cure his arthritis. The room was filled with Maximón's guardians, the intercessor, and the family of the man, and the life-sized Maximón sat in one chair facing the man who was dressed like Maximón (suit, broad-brimmed black hat with scarf trailing from it). There were a lot of candles, a censor made of coathangers and can burning Maya incense (http://www.wide-format-printers.org/FLAAR_report_covers/705193_Prossessing_incense.pdf) which smells wonderful, and a stand for money, rum, and an ashtray, and the guardians kept a burning cigarette in Maximón's mouth while the prayers (in Tzu'tujil) went on for about an hour, and then the family prayed while they gave Maximón some rum. Meanwhile, in the background, a woman was selling rum in baggies (no bottle!) out the back door. Eventually the family gave about $25 (probably a week's salary) to Maximón and the ceremony ended. However, this town of Santiago was remarkable during the oppression and terror of the 80's and 90's--the people were able to drive out the army of Rios Montt, who had been killing and disappearing people all over the country for years (http://www.santiagoatitlan.com/History/Uprising/uprisinge.html) --maybe Maximón helped! I also saw a Catholic ? funeral, which was a coffin with elaborately carved handles being carried by some men, surrounded by a group of women in special shawls, each of whom carried a streamer that went to the coffin. Behind them were many family and friends, and at the end of the procession a pickup with a loudspeaker playing music. They went through the streets and up to the cemetery. I also went to visit a curandera, to work on the arthritis in my spine. I went about four times, and each time she did a massage that used short intense (but not like Rolfing!) rubs at certain spots around my back. It seems to have helped--I had some twinges from the cold in Chicago, but nothing like what I usually have in the winter. Juan, my teacher, said she had a don, a special gift that can't be learned but must be inborn. He also told me that in San Pedro there are people with a greater gift. These people don't sleep, but stay awake all night and guard the town against anything evil that might come in. They each have zones and send energy to each other, these Guardias de la Noche. The night before I'd walked through the streets and seen the full moon on the lake, and thought I'd never been in such a peaceful place. Other people have had similar experiences there: http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=42356597314&h=Fz9Ol&u=W6P19 and http://www.earthoria.com/some-myths-about-lake-atitlan-guatemala.html Of course, all this Maya magic has attracted lots of people with spiritual interests from all over, and the town of San Marcos especially has several centers where people from the US, Germany, and elsewhere teach and practice various forms of spirituality, some connected with Maya teachings and others not. I practiced yoga with a teacher from San Marcos, an American, and eventually went over there. It's very tiny and peaceful, and mostly of the little streets wander through trees, though up the hill are some concrete buildings and cobbled streets. I think if I go back, I'll spend at least a few days in San Marcos--see why at http://www.lonelyplanet.tv/Clip.aspx?key=69BEF166FC775421 Finally, there are Protestants, who had many revivals and have many churches around town. I think the people who convert to the Protestant religions (Baptist, Presbyterian, Jehovah's Witness, Assembly of God, etc) forsake their Maya beliefs. There were lots of Christian mottos around town on walls and on tuktuks--Jesus is Lord, God is our savior, Blessed Virgin, etc.
Lots more to say, especially about politics and wars past and present, but I doubt anyone can read more! But if you're going, let me know if you have questions.