Que pasa: I just returned from a three-day trip to Antigua, where we all took a kind of vacation before we really get our projects underway. To give you an idea, Antigua gets one of the five chapters in my Lonely Planet Guidebook all to itself.
Antigua was once designated Guatemala's capital city, but in 1776 the Spaniards moved it to Guatemala City after they'd had enough of the earthquakes, one of which left most of the city in ruins. Hence the name “Antigua (old) Guatemala.” It's like New Orleans's case with the flooding: the city won't ever be what it once was.
There are many old churches and convents that occupy entire blocks. The history of most of these reads something like, “Built in 15--, destroyed by earthquakes in 17--, rebuilt in 17--, partially wrecked in 18--, rebuilt in 18-- and 18--.” So, many of them are like ruins, and most of them are otherwise gigantic with occasional stairways into low-ceiling underground crypts or chapels.
The city itself is charming: large blocks of two-story buildings, continuous so there are no alleyways, only pastel-colored walls with big wooden doors and windows with wrought-iron bars. Behind the blank facades of these establishments are homes, restaurants, inns, and other buildings that have a loose conception of inside-vs-outside. That is, most places are built around courtyards in the center or simply have open-air gardens or patios in the middle, without doors. So in Antigua the weather is always nice and there must be little or no bugs. And all the streets are wide and sloped towards the center so that the rainwater (it rained or was rainy the whole time we were there) runs in a small stream through the center of a street. The streets are made of irregularly-shaped stones, so that a car ride is very bumpy. A doctor told me that his English was “worse than the streets in Antigua.”
Speaking of the doctor, I have amoebas. This may have begun with my fit of vomiting etc. about two weeks ago. They don't hurt very much, but I'm now taking medicine that's supposed to flush them out. Derek and Valerie and most recently Erin M. are sick too, but I don't know what they officially “have” yet.
But that didn't stop me (although by the end it stopped Valerie) from splurging on all the good food they've got: curry, chicken enchiladas, some great soups, nice pizza (a good break from beans and eggs and corn tortillas), and a great dessert cafe with strong coffee.
There was one gigantic tourist store called Nim Pot with some really bizarre stuff: creatures and monsters made of wood and bizarre colors, masks, two Jesus chairs (as if you were sitting in his lap), a gigantic wooden “giraffe,” spurs, wooden saints and other figurines. But the most bizarre of all was a wall of small wooden paintings with handwriting underneath them (like Far Side comics, but the paintings weren't as good) that quite graphically depicted terrible things: sinking ships, disease, adultery, murder, the September 11 attacks, women giving birth on floors, and acts of sodomy. In the sky overlooking all the madness are either an angels or Christ on the cross. The writing underneath expresses some kind of prayer request or thanks, such as I thank God that I was able to see my wife cheating on me or I thank God that my attackers didn't know that I had AIDS.
Antigua was once designated Guatemala's capital city, but in 1776 the Spaniards moved it to Guatemala City after they'd had enough of the earthquakes, one of which left most of the city in ruins. Hence the name “Antigua (old) Guatemala.” It's like New Orleans's case with the flooding: the city won't ever be what it once was.
There are many old churches and convents that occupy entire blocks. The history of most of these reads something like, “Built in 15--, destroyed by earthquakes in 17--, rebuilt in 17--, partially wrecked in 18--, rebuilt in 18-- and 18--.” So, many of them are like ruins, and most of them are otherwise gigantic with occasional stairways into low-ceiling underground crypts or chapels.
The city itself is charming: large blocks of two-story buildings, continuous so there are no alleyways, only pastel-colored walls with big wooden doors and windows with wrought-iron bars. Behind the blank facades of these establishments are homes, restaurants, inns, and other buildings that have a loose conception of inside-vs-outside. That is, most places are built around courtyards in the center or simply have open-air gardens or patios in the middle, without doors. So in Antigua the weather is always nice and there must be little or no bugs. And all the streets are wide and sloped towards the center so that the rainwater (it rained or was rainy the whole time we were there) runs in a small stream through the center of a street. The streets are made of irregularly-shaped stones, so that a car ride is very bumpy. A doctor told me that his English was “worse than the streets in Antigua.”
Speaking of the doctor, I have amoebas. This may have begun with my fit of vomiting etc. about two weeks ago. They don't hurt very much, but I'm now taking medicine that's supposed to flush them out. Derek and Valerie and most recently Erin M. are sick too, but I don't know what they officially “have” yet.
But that didn't stop me (although by the end it stopped Valerie) from splurging on all the good food they've got: curry, chicken enchiladas, some great soups, nice pizza (a good break from beans and eggs and corn tortillas), and a great dessert cafe with strong coffee.
There was one gigantic tourist store called Nim Pot with some really bizarre stuff: creatures and monsters made of wood and bizarre colors, masks, two Jesus chairs (as if you were sitting in his lap), a gigantic wooden “giraffe,” spurs, wooden saints and other figurines. But the most bizarre of all was a wall of small wooden paintings with handwriting underneath them (like Far Side comics, but the paintings weren't as good) that quite graphically depicted terrible things: sinking ships, disease, adultery, murder, the September 11 attacks, women giving birth on floors, and acts of sodomy. In the sky overlooking all the madness are either an angels or Christ on the cross. The writing underneath expresses some kind of prayer request or thanks, such as I thank God that I was able to see my wife cheating on me or I thank God that my attackers didn't know that I had AIDS.
One of the two organized events we did while there was to wake up at 5:30 and climb Vulcan Picaya, a pretty cool experience. The climb to the volcano took us by some farms and through dense woodland until suddenly the forest stopped just shy of the top of a knoll. We climbed it and gazed at the mist that surrounded our vantage point: it reminded me of the Scottish highlands or something. Then, suddenly, a strong wind dispersed the mist to reveal a huge field of black lava in front of us. Our guide headed in this direction.
Walking on lava is bizarre. You're basically walking/climbing over piles of medium-sized black rocks, with the occasional fissure to your left or right and then a stream of molten lava. It got pretty hot, but with the cool weather, it wasn't too bad. A couple pairs of shoes melted though. The rocks sound hollow but are heavy and jagged and sharp: I cut my hand when some rocks under me shifted and I had to catch myself. It began to rain a little, and the ground under us roared and steamed. We weren't even on the real volcano, just a smaller mountain off to its side.
But yeah, it was once again great to spend time with “classmates” (friends) in a city conducive to spending time with people: good food, good coffee, good live music. I could write a paragraph about each person in the program, but Zach deserves a shout-out for going back out with me one night and helping me find my knife after it fell out of my pocket while we were racing somewhere (which was his idea anyway), a painstaking task in the dark streets and the thousands of rocks with knife-sized gaps in between them.
Darja said that we might have worse culture shock coming back from Antigua than from the beginning of the program. That's definitely an exaggeration for me and probably for most of us, but we definitely lived it up over there.
a local or a tourist? Who knows in Antigua
our hotel
Dr Wallace holding what will be used for our (the sick ones) stool samples.
We decided this Cathedral would be a perfect place for a family photo. Clockwise from top L: Nicole, Zach, Erin R, Me, Darja, Andrea, Mary Beth
Centro de Investigaciones Regionales de Centroamerica (“Investigaciones” means Research), where Allie's aunt works (that's her talking). The Centro is basically a big database of Guatemalan history, with libraries of old books, maps, newspapers, and photos. They've done a respectable job too: while many similar institutions were suspected of being on one side or the other and thus forced to close during the Civil War, this one remained open, a testament to its neutrality.
Catedral de Santiago
Remember how I wrote about Maximon, the guy who's in the photo in between the two photos of Jesus on Catarina's dresser? Well apparently one of the guys he's supposed to represent, conquistador Pedro de Alvarado, was buried under the altar in this Cathedral.
Zach Climbing on Ruins
Picaya
photo by Derek Stemple
me climbing on ruins. Photo by Nicole Azpelliga
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