Thursday, October 29, 2009

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.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

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.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

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!

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Images of an Overcast Morning

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

Friday, October 23, 2009

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.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

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.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

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.