A Sweet Despedida

ANTIGUA, Guatemala -- My lovely Common Hope library colleague Lynn organized a little surprise going-away party, or despedida, for me. It was nothing fancy -- sweet bread from local bakery Dona Luisa's, shared with a handful of other volunteers and about a dozen of the regular kids.

I'm a long-time fan of Dona Luisa's banana bread, but now I'm a convert to the orange-chocolate bread, too. (Bread is a misnomer; it really is more like pound cake.)

The kids seemed to appreciate it, too. With no wiggling, the occasional giggle and very little talk, they settled in to devour three or four slices each.

Every now and then, I will read an article that ponderously tries to debunk the belief that sugar makes young  kids hyper. Parents always find this laughable, and I am reminded why. Our usually mild-mannered, shy little girls were all on turbo-drive half an hour after they finished the cake. It was like having a flock of a dozen hummingbirds working on jigsaw puzzles.

(Because the party was a surprise, I didn't have my camera with me. The photo here is one that I took in the library last week. Note how all the kids in it are sitting still.)

Second City

QUETZALTENANGO, Guatemala--Fortunately, most people call this city by its nickname.

"Quetzaltenango" means, roughly, "place of the quetzal,"--the Guatemalan national bird--in one Mayan lanaguage. (There are more than 20 living Mayan language.) The city's older name in another Mayan language is Xelaju, or roughly, "place of the 10 leaders." So people call it Xela, pronounced Shay-la.

It's the second largest Guatemalan city and the long-time trading center for the largely Mayan altiplano, or high plane,  area. (It's at an altitude of almost 8,000 feet.)  I made a quick visit this past weekend, just because I've never been there.

Xela is no Guatemala City--and what a good thing that is! The capital is the financial, cultural and intellectual center of this country. It's also crowded, filthy, polluted and dangerous. (Hey, that's probably the most generous description possible!) Xela is smaller, less crowded and cleaner. When I asked the young reception clerk at my downtown hotel whether it would be safe to walk around the neighborhood at twilight, she said sure, just avoid dark streets. In many neighborhoods of the capital that would simply be unthinkable.

Xela is also significantly less touristy than Antigua, the town where I have been living. In other words, it's the kind of small city where people actually live. Take a look at these photos. They focus on the downtown area; I didn't get to many residential neighborhoods.

Queman el Diablo

ANTIGUA, Guatemala--Maybe I was a little too close. After all, I was able to smell the gasoline they used to set fire to the devil, and at least one of the flying cinders hit me. The firefighters were certainly farther away.

At 6 p.m. on December 7, Guatemalans burn the devil. (Why 6 p.m.? No one has been able to explain that to me--just because that's when it's done.) Supposedly, the custom began in 1776 in Antigua, when people set fires outside their homes to light the way for a procession in honor of the Immaculate Conception, the feast of the Virgin Mary that is celebrated December 8.

The custom now is followed throughout the country. The idea is that you take the trash out of the house and burn it, to symbolize cleaning out all the bad things from the previous year and preparing for Christmas. These days, they try to discourage individual fires. For instance, there was an article in one newspaper today about all the environmental damage such fires can do if people burn plastics, tires and the like.

Instead, the sanctioned way to follow the custom these days is for a town to burn a replica of a devil--a  statue, a paper figure or the like. Here in Antigua, a papier mache-looking statue of a devil has been set up on the edge of town for more than a week. For the actual ceremony today, they moved him about a block. (The plaza where he was originally situated is bordered by two gas stations. Go figure.)

People gathered about an hour in advance, to eat street food and plant the kids in a spot with a good view. One of the traditional bands that usually plays in religious processions serenaded the crowd, which eventually filled about three blocks. Vendors sold devil horns (very popular). The master of ceremonies also wore a devil costume. I'm not quite sure why, since the idea was to annihilate the devil. Still.

After some satiric comments by MC Devil, someone set flame to the gasoline-soaked sticks that surrounded the devil statue. He went up with loud cracks, as if some firecrackers had been stuck inside the papier mache. The TV newscasters who were broadcasting live kept talking, although I think at least one of them moved a few feet away when the flames were at their crackling-est.

As the fire died down, some of the crowd dispersed. Others remained to eat more street food and watch a nearby performance by some scantily-clad Gallo Girls (young women sponsored by the big beer company) who danced on a street stage to loud contemporary Latin music.

The devil-burning was the big attraction of the night, but as I walked home, I skirted several little fires set in the streets outside houses, in what I'm guessing is the traditional manner. Several hours later, firecrackers are still going off somewhere nearby, and people are still wandering the streets in devil horns.

So How Does This Work, Anyway?

ANTIGUA, Guatemala--Hundreds of people come to Antigua each month to study Spanish. Should you?

I'm biased--I've done this twice and I love it. It might or might not work for you. Obviously, there are plenty of other places to study, but I know only Antigua.

First thing to understand: You're not going to come here for one week and leave fluent, even if you took Spanish in high school. This can be a lot of work. Most people will study for a month or more, and will just end up kicking themselves that they aren't better and smarter than they are, and that they don't have more time. However, there are also people here for a week or two, just learning enough to survive before they launch themselves into a longer trip south. That's fine, too.

Most schools seem to work the same way. You are assigned a teacher and study together one-on-one, for four or more hours per weekday. The content of the classes depends on your level, which can be anywhere from absolute beginner to practically fluent. Studying involves grammar drills, but also a lot of conversation. (There's homework, too.)

You can live with a family, who will provide room, board and more Spanish practice. But you can also live in a hotel, a dorm-like guesthouse or your own apartment. (The last seems to be a common choice among longer-term visitors, or those who are here with spouses and family.) Some people complain that the meals the families serve are stingy--tortillas, beans and maybe some chicken. I guess that happens with some schools, which pay the families miserably. But I have been very lucky. Both times here I have lived with great families that served excellent food. Yes, I have lost appreciable weight, not because I'm being starved, but rather because I'm eating a portion-controlled fruit-and-veggie heavy diet.

The studying style here is called immersion, but just about everyone realizes that true immersion is difficult in Antigua. There are too many other students, not to mention tourists. I've also concluded that if you just study and laze around, you're not forced to use other language muscles, the way you would be if you worked or hung out with local friends. Working in a situation like mine--volunteers at the project generally speak together in English--is not going to improve your adult Spanish vocabulary, either. (Now, your ability to ask a 9-year-old whether she needs help with a jigsaw puzzle--that's going to skyrocket!)

You can pay once a week, in advance. Prices seem ridiculously cheap by North American standards, but they do vary. Spot-checking a few reputable schools gives me prices for room, board and 20 hours of class varying from $170 to $310 per week. If you don't like a house, it's cool to ask to switch. If a school doesn't click with you, you can switch that, too. The guidebooks all say you can just drift into town, visit a couple schools, and pick one. I've never done it that way--I've followed the recommendations of my U.S. Spanish teacher. It has worked for me.

Most students seem to study four hours a day, 8am to noon. That means their afternoons are free for whatever--relaxing, studying, writing, working. Others study for six or seven hours--that leaves almost no brain cells available for other things. (An 8am class start means you are up at 6am, but that's easy in Antigua, because church bells, fireworks and even the occasional rooster seem to observe that schedule.)

Life in a family homestay may be more regimented than you are used to. Meals are at set hours. You develop routines on study times and the like. You're not part of the family, but they do keep an eye on what you're doing (especially with younger students.)

If you are considering this and have specific questions, feel free to ask!

And if you're wondering, the photo above is the devil. He's on display in one Antigua square this week. Next week, he's going to be burned in a much-anticipated ceremony/party. No, I don't understand it either, yet!

Mi Ahijada

SAN GASPAR, Guatemala--The younger, shorter woman in the photo is Aura, my ahijada -- that is, my godchild or sponsored child.

The sponsor system is a common way for nonprofits here and elsewhere to attract contributors. You establish a direct link between the sponsor and the child, who exchange letters, photos and the like. That emotional link helps insure that the sponsor won't stop giving. I'm not a great madrina, or godmother. That is, I don't write a lot of personal letters. But I do keep writing the checks.

Now, no matter what the ads from some charities say, my $2 a day doesn't actually feed Aura or anything like that. It doesn't go directly to her family. Rather, it goes to a fund that pays for things such as her high school scholarship, her school uniform and the salary of the social worker who regularly visits her family. As far as I'm concerned, that's a good thing. It spreads the money out. Also, I don't think a direct cash payment would be the best way to insure that things such as tuition get paid--other priorities would likely come first, like food.

That's because Aura's family has a monthly income of less than $300. And while life is less expensive here than up north, that's not enough for anything that most Americans would consider acceptable.

It's an intact family, with an employed father and a supportive mother. But there are eight kids, which means it is something close to miraculous that all the little ones are actually enrolled in school.

I visited the family for an hour this week. The littlest girls were smiley and shy, speaking in near-whispers, in a way common with Guatemalan girls. The mother was friendly,  gracious and obviously proud of her kids. The house was small, especially with that many little children around. There was a main room that serves as living room, kitchen and dining room. Three bedrooms were curtained off. I know from the social work report that there's electricity and a bathroom with running water. I know from my experience that there's a dirt floor. Oh, and chickens pecking around on that dirt floor, six adults and three chicks, all at various points in the food production process.

It was the first time that I have met Aura, who I have sponsored for four years. She's in high school, an admirable feat here. She's studying for a career in tourism administration--accounting and the like. She's not tiny and cute, like many of the other ahijados affiliated with the project. (OK, maybe she's tiny--compared with me, most Guatemalan women are--and obviously she's cute, but not the way that the six-year-olds are.)

Instead, she is a well-spoken, polite young lady who very soon will be able to help support the rest of her family, and will have a very good chance of breaking the cycle of poverty. I'm proud to have met her.

Getting In Deep

PANAJACHEL, Guatemala--Even now, Lake Atitlan is one of the most spectacular places imaginable.

The big high-altitude lake, tucked under three picture-perfect volcanos, is suffering. There's a huge brownish algae bloom floating on the once-clear water. This impossible-to-ignore development has kicked folks into gear as they begin to debate how to rescue this treasure.

The reason for the degradation of the lake, of course, is human development. Plenty of folks are to blame. The towns ringing the lake have grown without any thought of environmental impact. Both the tourist town of Panajachel and the many smaller indigenous settlements that ring the lake pump raw sewage into the water. People wash their clothes directly in the lake, using phosphate-rich detergents. Untold numbers of small farms produce fertilizer-rich runoff.

For years, the deep lake has absorbed this abuse. But back in 2005, Hurricane Stan added an additional twist by washing plenty of toxic junk into the lake, and more important, severely damaging the water-treatment plant.

Not surprisingly in this country's corrupt system, millions of dollars donated or set aside for environmental improvements have simply disappeared into the mountain air.

My visit this weekend was my third time at the lake. I feared the worst. And indeed, when we were out in the lancha (small boat) that acts as a ferry among the lake towns, we got a good whiff of the ugly brown algae bloom. But from the shores of the lake, it wasn't too horrid. The optimist in me concluded that the lake isn't yet dead, and that possibly the algae bloom could alarm people enough so that they actually do the right things. Like they say here, Ojala que si...

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(Travelers' note: Once you get to Guatemala, it is easy to visit the major tourist attractions such as the lake. There's a surprisingly functional system of tourist minibuses that take you where you  want to go for reasonable prices. I can already hear the hardcore shoestring travelers jumping in to harangue me about how much cheaper and more authentic it is to use the chicken buses. Yes, it is. But, hey, dudes--the tourist shuttle from Antigua to Pana is $25 roundtrip. Your cab fare to and from happy hour back home is more than that.)

These Kids Today!

ANTIGUA, Guatemala--Judging by the little hearts and the smiley faces, the letter was written by a young teenage girl.

It was a slow afternoon in our library at Common Hope, so I was keeping busy by translating a few of the letters that the kids write (in Spanish) to their (generally English-speaking) sponsors. My Spanish is far from fluent, but it's certainly up to the level of translating a letter from a kid, right?

Maybe.


Most of the girl's letter was straightforward--affectionate greetings, grateful thanks and the like. But I was stumbling on a few things, so I asked my colleague, Lynn,  if she could help me a little. She has lived here for nine years, so her Spanish is fluent.


The first mystery was the letter "x," which showed up several times in the middle of sentences. In context, it should have been the word "por," Spanish for "for." But "x?" Lynn puzzled for a few minutes, then pointed out that the "times" sign in Spanish multiplication problems is pronounced as por. That made it easy for me to determine that "xq" meant "porque," or "because."


The next mystery was a scrawl that looked sort of like "100pre." I wondered if it was just some sort of handwriting problem. After a few more minutes, Lynn figured out that one, too. In Spanish, the number 100 is  "cien." Thus "100 (cien) pre" sounds a lot like the word "siempre," or forever. Think about signing your high school yearbook "4ever."


The next one stumped us. "TKM," our young correspondent had written--three times in one letter. We tried different ways of pronouncing it, jumbled the letters, whatever. Nope. Eventually, we turned to Google. (That can be a painfully slow process, so it certainly wasn't our first choice.) That crutch helped us figure it out: "TKM" is teenager-ese for "te quiero mucho." (Quiero is pronounced kee-air-oh.) Again, think of your high school yearbook.


It means "I love you very much."

That's My Final Price!

PASTORES, Guatemala--Sometimes a girl just needs to shop. And as long as we're going to deal in stereotypes here, sometimes a girl needs to buy shoes.

Well, boots.

Last weekend my housemate and I broke free of any gringa-guilt and went shopping in two absolutely fab locales. The first was Pastores, a little town about 20 minutes by chicken bus from Antigua. The main street there is lined with dozens of boot shops.

Make that bootmakers. These boots don't come in by the crate load from China. Rather, men whose families have likely been making boots for generations craft them by hand. You can buy boots off the shelf or custom-made. (What the Brits call bespoke.) The photo at left shows my bootmaker, with a horma, that is, a shoe last, that he is going to use to make me a pair of black leather cowgirl boots with light blue accent stitching. Right now, I'm wearing another pair of his boots, in slouchy brown leather. Each pair will cost me less than $50, and he and I are both happy about it.

The next day, we headed to the town of Chichicastenango, the site of a near-legendary twice-weekly market. It's a few rather dull hours by tourist shuttle bus from Antigua, but so worth it.

After an initial near-compulsory but still fascinating visit to the church of Santo Tomas, where the locals practice a syncretic blend of Catholicism and ancient Mayan religion, we dove into the market. It's alley after alley of indigena craft booths selling fabric, jewelry, handicrafts and more fabric. Again, this stuff isn't from China. The thing about Guatemala is that unlike in the United States, local labor is cheaper than the overseas kind. And in the case of the people who make this country's stunning tela, or cloth, it's a lot more skilled.

Buying anything in Chichi requires 10 or 15 minutes of energetic and somewhat ritualistic bargaining, which is a wondrous test of your ability to think in Spanish numbers. After a few minutes, I get into this completely and am actually able to walk away--for real!!!--if a vendor won't come down enough in price. (My bargain-seeking Polish grandmother would have loved this.)

When we started the day, we had planned a bit of civilized shopping, then maybe a leisurely lunch. But my housemate and I eventually had to face reality. After a little more than three hours, we had to stop buying because our shuttle bus was about to leave. Oh, and because we could no longer carry any additional stuff.

Be It Ever So Humble

CIUDAD VIEJA, Guatemala--Context is important. If you saw one of these houses in the States, it would probably be under a highway overpass.

But here, the senora was simply glowing and said she couldn't find enough words to thank all those who had helped her family to improve their situation.

I tagged along for an afternoon with a Common Hope volunteer brigade that was going to the blessing/celebration of the house they had helped build. These houses are one room, about 12 feet square, with no plumbing and with walls of what seem to be cementitious panels. (They look kinda like drywall, but are more sturdy and weather proof.)

In this case, two of the little houses sit side by side in one walled yard. They will be home for 10 people who used to live in one room. As the senora explained, the adults earned the houses by working 340 hours in jobs such as cleaning and construction.

The walls are important, of course, but it seems to me the roof and floor are even more so. The roof keeps off the rains. The floor is of concrete tile, replacing dirt. Dirt floors are bad. They get muddy. They get dusty. The dust causes respiratory problems for children.

At the blessing, the family members and volunteers crammed into one house to say the Our Father in Spanish. Then everyone had a slice of the carrot cake the volunteers had brought along. Two little girls sat on the one bed giggling shyly and eating cake.

Afterward, I chatted with a couple of the volunteers for a few moments in the yard. The question was obvious: So, where do people go to the bathroom? There was no latrine--so, probably a corner? Probably.

However, there was running water in the yard, through a standing pipe over a galvanized metal washtub that seemed to function as a pila--that is, a sink for washing dishes and clothes.

And in the house itself, the family had rigged up some electricity. The exposed wires went lord-knows-where and would make a U.S. housing inspector go apoplectic, but the light bulb worked.

Fin de Semana Fotos

ANTIGUA, Guatemala--That headline means "weekend photos." They're more like snapshots, actually.

What you'll see here are some basic Antigua street scenes; some pix from La Recollecion, one of the many many ruined churches; and then some pictures that simply do not do justice to a spectacular, somber procession through the streets. Hundreds of people, many of them in stylized costumes meant to resemble the robes of holy men from centuries ago, are escorting a statue of Jesus that is reclining on an elaborate bier. On the same float (bad description, but as close as you can come in English) as the statue there are several figures that look like black-clad klansmen. They are Nazarenos. In the ecclesiastical context, which these are, they are an ancient group of penitents. In the more day-to-day sense, they seem to show up as rather scary folkloric figures. And if I were a little kid, you could certainly get my attention by telling me these guys might come and get me.

Rain, Rain Go Away

ANTIGUA, Guatemala--Oh, ick. It has been raining all day. Gray, drizzly rain. This comes after a week of afternoon and evening rainstorms.

What makes it worse is that this is NOT the right season for rain. The rains should have ended a week ago at the latest.

And even worse: During the proper rainy season, there was very little rain, which means most of this agricultural country experienced a horrible drought and is in the midst of a food crisis. (Crisis as in people in rural areas are starving or living on international food aid.) And the late-season rains don't help the farmers; they just make harvesting whatever's there  more difficult.

For a dramatic contrast: The photo at left is the new luxury hotel that seems to be opening this week on my block. The lights are glowing warmly in the gray mist.

And to brighten things up elsewhere, today I stopped at a little stationery store to buy some glittery gel pens. We used them this afternoon to decorate graduation cards for some of the Common Hope kids.

Putting the Pieces Together

ANTIGUA, Guatemala--For most of the kids who frequent the library where I am volunteering, the favorite activity seems to be working on jigsaw puzzles, or in Spanish,  rompecabezas  (headbreakers).

Some choose coloring books, others like to read to themselves or with an adult. But rompecabezas--a quiet activity you can work on alone or with a big sister--definitely are the big winners. The ones with a dozen large pieces are great for the littlest kids. Older kids like more complex puzzles, the ones with the little pieces and the prettiest pictures. (Evelyn, at left, finished this 300-piece puzzle in about an hour.) It school vacation time, so there's no homework to do, after all.

The library is part of the Family Development Center run by Common Hope (Familias de Esperanza), a proyecto--project--just outside the touristy center of Antigua. The main goal of Common Hope is to break the cycle of poverty by helping poor kids get an education.

Here, you don't do that by putting up posters with Stay in School slogans. To support the kids, the project helps with school fees, uniforms, supplies and the like. (Primary school here is technically free and mandatory, but in reality it's neither. In the school year that just ended, the government for the first time forbade public schools charging enrollment fees. These fees were small change by U.S. standards, but huge for a peasant family with next to nothing. Enrollment throughout the country soared.)

To support families and thus keep the kids in school, Common Hope also helps with medical care (there's a clinic at the center) and employs social workers. In addition, there's a popular program that builds houses through a sweat equity system somewhat similar to that of Habitat for Humanity.

There are about 2,600 affiliated kids, that is, children who are enrolled in the program. Most of the money comes from people (generally foreigners) who sponsor individual kids by paying $30 or $60 a month. Sponsors receive occasional updates on a child's progress and notes from him or her. Many of the sponsors first come in contact with Common Hope through regular tours the group gives to people visiting Antigua. (That's how I fell into it several years ago.)

Of course, the organization always welcomes new sponsors. But if you're headed down this way and have a little extra room in your suitcase, the kids would also appreciate any jigsaw puzzles you happen to bring along.

From the Inferno to the Heavens

There are certain things every visitor to Antigua needs to do. High on the list is to climb Pacaya. That's a live volcano about an hour away from town. By live, we mean live--hot lava, explosions, etc.

The last time I was here, I wimped out on the climb, making it about three-quarters of the way up. After all, this is an 8,000-foot-plus mountain, so I didn't feel too bad.

What a lie. I felt just horrendous that I couldn't do it. So I tried again this time, and with the help of an extremely placid horse named Temerario (ie, "Reckless," ha!) I made it yesterday. The horses go about three-quarters of the way, leaving just 25 minutes or so of lava-rock-scrambling in order to reach the highest point the guides will bring you. This being Guatemala, where U.S. ideas of safety and legal liability don't quite hold, that's right up to the point where you can see hot red lava, roast a marshmallow over it, and smell the soles of your shoes melting. Note the glowing red stream in the photo. Woo-hoo!

Today--Sunday Nov. 1--is very special in Guatemala. It's All Saints Day. Families everywhere go to cemeteries, decorate the graves with flowers, and spend some time with the departed. They also fly kites, as a way to send messages to heaven.

In some places they take the kite tradition to extremes. One of those is Santiago Sacatepequez, a town about 45 minutes from Antigua. There, thousands of people descend every Nov. 1 on the cemetery (where the graves of course have been decorated.) Locals picnic there with great-great-grandma, as they do everywhere. But the kite flying has evolved into a competition with immense, beautifully made giant paper-and-bamboo kites. The biggest are too big to fly--it takes a crew of more than two dozen strong young men simply to get each one to stand up so the crowd can see it. (Applause, applause.)

While folks are waiting for the big kites--there were eight of them this year--they also cheered on smaller crews of folks flying medium-sized kites, each about six feet across. All the little kids tried to fly little kites, too. This takes place against a background of noisy bells on ice cream carts, shouts from jewelry vendors, and plenty of folks selling noisemakers. Even in the heavens, they should be able to hear this, and smile. Here are a few photos:

More Crowded Than the Orange Line at Rush Hour

ANTIGUA, Guatemala--It's really not fair to call it a chicken bus.


After all, that classic description of Central American transportation comes from the almost inevitable fact that if you are taking a cheap bus through the countryside, plenty of folks have brought their live poultry along with them. The bus I take home from Common Hope two kilometers into central Antigua seems not to have any chickens. Plenty of commuters, though, even if none of them wear Brooks Brothers suits.

Otherwise, it looks like the classic chicken bus. (There's no Spanish translation of this--it's a gringo term. To the locals, it's just "autobus.") That means it's a very very old U.S. school bus--the yellow kind--brightly painted with elaborate designs and plenty of prayers. They were probably designed to hold 40 school children; they generally run with 60 to 70 people, mostly adults.

I'm generally not a big fan of chicken buses. I just don't like people that much, especially when strangers are sitting in my lap. But there are some security concerns with walking at dusk from el proyecto (the local term for any sizable facilty run by foreign do-gooders) to central Antigua, where I'm living. So sometimes, I take the bus. The first couple times were a bit odd--it's always a little weird being the only gringa in the crowd, and a tall one at that. But today, as I squeezed into the three-across seat with only a mumbled phrase of courtesy, I was actually comfortable with it.

After all, it's cheap--less than 20 cents. The buses run very frequently, and because the drivers consider themselves the only vehicles on the road, they're fast.

The Guatemalan passengers, who usually are the most polite people imaginable, suspend all those rules on the bus. Pregnant women, old ladies, little kids--hey, if there isn't room, stand!

Except for the ever-present possibility of a chicken, maybe it's a bit like Metro after all.

Talk About Subprime

ANTIGUA, Guatemala-- In Spanish, it's simply "la crisis."

That is, the world economic crisis. All those lousy subprime mortgages in California, Florida and Manassas have translated into some real problems for people down here. By some counts, the largest economic engine of Guatemala is remittances, i.e., all that cash that Guatemalans in other countries send home to their families. No construction work in the US, no remisas. The second most important industry--probably first in Antigua--is tourism. And in recent months, everyone here says, world tourism has simply dropped off the cliff.

That means language schools are operating at a percentage of their capacity. In turn, that means that teachers who get paid by the hour aren't being paid, and neither are the homestay families who get paid per student. Hotels have plenty of empty rooms, and there are fewer than a half dozen patrons in the cafe where I'm sitting now--not exactly a busy happy hour for the three waitresses. A smattering of restaurants are closing for lack of business, and when people talk about that, they shake their heads sadly.

Sure, you can debate about whether tourism is a good thing or a bad thing, how badly it corrupts cultures and drains resources. But it exists, it's an economic engine, and it's not like it's distracting folks here from building a cutting-edge technology industry or anything. (First, they have to teach their children to read.)

So if you have been vacillating about whether to take a vacation or not in the next few months, consider this: Guatemala is cheap generally, and you can likely find some bargains here now. (Hostel dorm room for $7 a night? Sure.) That would make it a good Great Recession destination. And your cash can go to someone who may need it even more than you do.

Cofradia del Rosario

ANTIGUA, Guatemala--You had to see the faces of these women. Grimly determined pride sort of begins to describe it.

These photos are of a procession I watched today. The Cofradia del Rosario--basically, a rosary sodality--walked through the streets of town carrying a float of the Virgin Mary, in order to commemorate rosary month, which has been October.

Now, this float isn't made of foam rubber or plastic. It's solid wood, ornately carved. And it's not on wheels. The statue of the Virgin is about five feet tall, and I'm guessing that if she's like most Guatemalan religious statues, she is solid wood, too, with gilded fabric robes.

In other words, this baby is heavy. The senior women of the cofradia, all dressed in their good dark blue suits, started out carrying it from the church, walking with a sort of side-to-side sway. Men and some younger women preceded them. A band followed them. Occasionally, someone shot off fireworks.

After a block or two, some of the younger men hustled in to give a break to a few of the women, possibly their grandmothers. But the women kept walking alongside the float. After all, the procession was scheduled to last about four hours.

Here's a slide show of a dozen or so photos of the procession. Note that the foreground, in almost all cases, includes a tourist with a camera. If this kind of thing walks by you, you just have to take pictures!

Images of an Overcast Morning

Here are a few views of Antigua, on a somewhat cloudy Saturday morning:

Why Antigua?

ANTIGUA, Guatemala—The last time I was down here, I watched a really bad Mexican movie from the 1940s—one so obscure it can’t be found in IMDB—that was set in then-contemporary Guatemalan. Since the plot made absolutely no sense, it was best to regard it as a travelog. And one of the places the heroes visited was Antigua, even then a tourist magnet.

This is a small city—really, more of a town—about an hour by highway from Guatemala City. The Spaniards sited their capital here in 1543, after a couple other choices in this earthquake-prone region didn’t work out so well for them.

What was then known as Santiago de Something (Spaniards tended to opt for long and reverent names) became one of the grandest of Colonial cities, full of churches, government buildings and large homes. But location-wise, it was still no prize—it too was subject to regular quakes. The one they had in 1773 did a real number on it, and by 1776, it was largely abandoned after the capital was moved to Guatemala City. (Thus the current name—La Antigua, as in, the old one.)

With only a small population, probably akin at points to squatters, it became one of the world’s premiere examples of preservation by neglect. The Colonial buildings that remained standing did so for centuries, unchanged except by more quakes and the occasional looting. The ruins, particularly those of churches, have a regal if spooky old look that has long attracted tourists. The preserved historic city, which is about eight blocks by eight blocks, was declared a UN World Heritage site in the 1970s.

Guatemala’s long, sad civil war, which technically ended in 1996 after what is usually counted as 36 years, largely spared the buildings of Antigua. But it devastated the economy, which only began to climb back after visitors were no longer terrified of the country. Tourism is the city’s largest industry now. It attracts both foreigners and Guatemalans, especially well-off residents of the capital who want to spend the weekend in a clean, relatively safe (though that may not be saying much) place with excellent restaurants and nightlife.

One of the major engines of tourism is the system of Spanish-language schools, some of which were founded as long ago as the war years. Foreigners like me come to these economically priced schools from around the world. They get several hours a day of one-on-one Spanish instruction, and generally live with local families. In Antigua proper,these families often own large Colonial homes with room for several students in private bedrooms, as well as room for the family. The hard cash the families bring in for boarding the students allows them to maintain those houses and places them squarely in Guatemala’s small middle class. They can afford one of the country’s most desired expenditures—they can afford to send their children to good schools.

It’s de rigeur to gripe that with the large foreign influence, it’s too easy to speak English in Antigua. But for a language student, it’s comfortable. People here are used to dealing with befuddled gringos, something they’ve obviously done for a while. Outside of school, you can speak as much Spanish as you wish. However, you do need to get used to everyone considering themselves sort of assistant teachers.

For instance, this morning when I was dropping off my laundry around the corner, I made a dumb beginner’s mistake in Spanish. (I used esta when I should have used estoy.) And the nice man who was weighing my dirty clothes took a minute to explain to me the importance of first person vs. third person when using Spanish verbs.

Estoy en Guatemala

I arrived Sunday evening, safely and with no drama. That, of course, does not make for a fascinating post. Neither does spending four hours yesterday afternoon reviewing irregular verbs. Ack!

For those of you who have been asking whether Antigua has changed much since you were here--or at least since I was here 4 years ago--the answer is no. Strangely, after 500 or so years, the buildings look more or less the same.

As I walked around this morning re-orienting myself, I made a mental note to make a right-hand turn at the yellow church in order to find a particular street. Then I almost laughed aloud, as I recalled that there must be  more than a dozen yellow colonial churches here, more or less at every other street corner.

What I'm doing, and why

In a few days, I will be leaving Washington D.C. so that I can spend two months living in Antigua, Guatemala. The current plan is that while I am there, I will be studying Spanish, doing some volunteer work and probably traveling a bit. (That photo is Antigua--it's a beautiful little city, even if it does have a history of being rocked by earthquakes.)

I'm not going as part of a group, or any sort of organized effort. Rather, I have wanted to return to Antigua since 2005, when I spent six weeks there studying Spanish.

That time, it was on my employer's dime. This time, I no longer have an employer. Until this summer, I worked for The Washington Post, which like the rest of the U.S. newspaper industry is in a state of Internet-induced panic. Like so many of my colleagues, I accepted a buyout and now need to reinvent my career goals and myself. I've decided to take some time off to figure that out, a sort of grown-up gap year, or sabbatical, or whatever.

Back in 2005, I was impressed by the work of Common Hope, an Antigua-based nonprofit that supports children and their families. Since then, I've continued to follow them and contribute financially. I've also told myself that if I ever had the time and opportunity, I would like to do some hands-on work with them, too. So now I have the time, and I'm going to give it a try. I'm not as useful as someone with real skills--say, a nurse--but maybe I can help anyway.

I'm able to do this largely because of the emotional support of my wonderful husband, who is remaining in the United States while I set out on my adventure.  After all, someone in this family needs a job with health insurance.