Semana Santa

Semana Santa refers to Easter, not Christmas, sillies! The following is a pretty detailed account of my Easter Break, complete with pictures… from my own camera for once!

My parents came to visit. They got in Thursday and I met them at the airport in Guatemala City, where we stayed for a night. We spent three days in Antigua, then went to Panajachel on Lago de Atitlan for two days, and finished up in Quetzaltenango. They left Sunday for Guate City and flew back to the states Monday. It was a good time and I was more than happy to have them here and show them around. Read on if you are not completely satisfied with my brief vacation synopsis.

ANTIGUA

Antigua is ridiculously packed during Semana Santa, with processions and tourists galore. Catholics spend hours making these elaborate and beautiful alfombras ("carpets") out of produce, fresh flowers, and colored sawdust…

The colored sawdust.

Making sawdust alfombras with stencils and a lot of patience.

Loads of flowers.

And then these purple hooded boys (or black hooded boys later on in the week) would come bearing giant statues of Jesus and would trample the alfombras in an instant!

And then immediately after, the clean up crew would sweep up the trampled remains and people would start on another for a later procession.

For my dad, architecture enthusiast, Antigua was love at first sight. He had this huge desire the whole time to peer behind the crumbly facades of the buildings to what he was sure were really spectacular houses. He kept talking about moving to Guatemala and opening up a hotel like the one we stayed in—an old house converted into a beautiful nine-room hotel. I told him if he moved here he would have to learn Spanish (of which he now knows the teeniest bit—huevos, gracias, pan, taller mecánica, café, and y). He replied, and I quote, “I would learn Spanish if I lived here, just like I would learn how to use a computer if I lived on a spaceship.” I cannot think of a more quintessentially Mark Westlund thing to say.

PANAJACHEL

In Pana, we stayed at a secluded hotel set amid beautiful botanical gardens. I complained about the hotel being “too nice” for a while. I think I was mostly hung up on the fact that my dad kept saying that Guatemala is not a developing country, after only seeing three of the most developed parts of Guatemala. And a hotel with two helicopter landing pads isn’t exactly a good representation of the reality of Guatemala. It is a good representation of well-to-do people ignoring the gravity of the poverty here (More than 70% of the population make $1-$2 per day, for example, which would mean we paid more than an average year’s salary for a few nights of luxury). So anyway, after moping about for the first day, I forgave my mom for booking a hotel she had merely looked up in a Lonely Planet and booked because I wasn’t really much help as far as the planning process.

BUT the grounds were undeniably gorgeous and that was something anyone could appreciate. So many lovely and interesting flowers!

A tree with little orange berries and little purple flowers. Those blurry folks in the background are my parents.

Some crazy flower I had never seen before.

More pretty purple flowers.

And another crazy flower I had never seen before!

Not to mention a great dock to watch the sunrise on. My last morning there I bundled myself up in a wool blanket and made my way through the gardens to find this:

The dock and the volcano.

Just my feet hanging off the dock.

Boats and volcanos.

Being so isolated, we got to travel by Tuk-Tuk. I didn’t get a picture, but picture a tricyle-Smart Car hybrid. They are a pretty fun way to travel. We spent one day shopping, which was overwhelming. There are myriad little shops where you get hassled and haggled but they are relatively easy to escape from.

The hardest are the vendors who come up to you because, like shoppers, they are mobile. They are often adorable and 8 years old and know key phrases like, “10 Quetzales more so I can buy a Coke,” or “You promised me you would buy from me earlier but then you bought from her,” or “Please lady, so I can eat.” And once you stop for one, you are almost immediately surrounded by five more. It's admittedly hard to turn down children, but after a semester in Guatemala, I have become someone impervious to their sales pitches.

My parents, on the other hand, were almost constantly surrounded by throngs of children.

Random but awesome photo: My dad in a really tall hat:

Cute pose, Dad.

After stomaching a few hours in the Pana market, we fled home to our secluded garden getaway, which is where my mom realized she did not have her wallet. She had just bought a bunch of gifts in a little store, so she thought she either left it in the store, had it swiped by a very sneaky thief, or accidentally dropped it during the Tuk-Tuk ride back to the hotel. The two of us went back into town to find it with pretty low expectations. We eventually found the last store we bought from and the daughter of the owner lifted up a piece of cloth to reveal my mom’s orange pocket book, which my mom had left on the counter after making her purchases, and which the little girl had hidden in case we returned. Apparently some of my irresponsibility rubbed off on her, but I guess so did some of my luck!

XELA

And then there was Xela/Quetzaltenango. If I would have known that the entire town would be shut down for these last four days of the trip, I would have suggested that my parents start their trip here. I couldn’t show them my university, the weaving co-op where I take weaving classes, XelaPan (the bread store that I support daily), or Bake Shop (the Mennonite-run bakery that has the most amazing carrot cupcakes and chocolate donuts). Most of my favorite restaurants were open so at least we did some decent eating.

I was also able to bring them to the cemetery, of which I know practically nothing about.

And we climbed El Bahúl, which is quite a hike but has a nice view of the city, or about as nice as you will get.

We made it to the natural hot springs one morning too:

We took my host family out to dinner one night as well. It was my host mom, Eunice, my host dad, Rogelio and my host… girl who comes to my house a lot (the granddaughter). I was pretty nervous about the whole thing—Rogelio is really shy and my dad tends to tune out completely if he’s not dominating the conversation. My mom held her own though, and we were all pretty impressed with how much she retained of her high school Spanish. And Eunice being the talented conversationist that she is was a huge help. Overall, I thought the dinner went well.

The pictures didn't turn out great, but here's my parents with most of my host family.

And my host family and me!

Eunice asked my mom what she thought of Xela. My mom told her that the people are really nice, which is true. The city is short of attractive with terrible streets and dodgy-looking buildings and plumes of black smoke trailing most vehicles so that you can literally taste the pollution in the air. After living here for so long, I have begun to think of these attributes as quasi-endearing, but as a guide to my visiting parents, I was reminded of some of my not-so-great first impressions. But the people are undeniably nice! So although Xela may not be a tourist haven like Antigua or Lago de Atitlan, I think it is safe to say that the people of Xela out-shine any others. I will undoubtedly be very sad to leave here in a few weeks.