CHICHICASTENANGO CALLING!

I could  visit Chichicastenango just for the name alone. It is pronounced “Chee-chee-cast-en-an-go! “ , but try to sing a little as you say it. Guatemala is full of little towns with unusual names but this one has always sounded to me like a fun place to visit, and that it is.

I was picked up from my Guatemala City hotel at the indecent hour of 6 am by Victor, our very enthusiastic guide who would be with us for the next 3 days of our Mayan Markets sojourn.  At the time I was not quite as cheerful as Victor as it was early and I had ‘Tikal’ legs – the feeling where your thighs ache with the first few steps you take, after climbing half of the temples in Tikal the previous day. The condition improves and disappears over about 3 days. The funny thing is that it recurs every time you start walking up or down the steps of a church, of which there are many.

Once onboard the van, I started to get with the programme as I was greeted by my cheery fellow travellers, including a Spanish honeymoon couple I met the day I arrived in Guatemala. The rest of the bunch were a mixture of Spanish, English and a fellow Aussie, Michelle. There is something special about travelling in Guatemala. The locals are just so incredibly friendly that is infectious. After a short drive, we stopped for a hot chocolate and immediate friendships were forged.

A drive through spectacular scenery,  and a few photos stops later,  and we arrived in Chichicsatenango – one of the most colourful spots on the artist’s palette that is Guatemala. It was market day and a sea of blues, reds, pinks an greens awaited us. Victor  guided us through the market with explanations of the various garments and foods and then took us to the church of Santo Tomas. Mayan religion closely parallels that of Christianity so churches seem to be a blend of the two faiths. Inside, local Indians made offerings and lit candles in remembrance of loved ones. Outside in the church gardens, children were playing, young girls in their traditional garb were feasting on fresh pineapple and Guatemalan cowboys were swapping stories. The colour of Guatemala is made more intense by the fact that the people dress in their very colourful traditional clothing as if time stood still, except for the occasional Nike T-shirt or pair of sunnies.

We went back to our hotel, the Mayan Inn, for  a rather amusing lunch. Our waiter was well into his 80’s and dressed in traditional costume including long shorts which made it a little difficult to take him seriously, even though he was very serious about what we were having for lunch. The local ales did not help us maintain any decorum and when he very clearly explained that the bill did not include the tip we had to tell him several times that we understood that. I don’t think he was going to let us leave without it. Food is not expensive at all so the tip was not a problem. He must have approved because he welcomed us back in the evening.

So, after lunch, it was time to shop till we dropped! Victor had lined up a few young fellows who speak English to accompany anyone who wanted some help  and while we did not really need help we took another Victor with us which proved a bonus. The idea is to barter and fortunately my new friend, Paul the Englishman,  was a champion at this. He would pretend to be husband to both of us Aussie girls and tell us that we did not need that bag,  and then the price would miraculously drop so he would consent to letting us spend our hard earned quetzales (local currency). I don’t know whether the vendors realised he was a bigamist or thought it normal for us foreigners. 

Young Victor was at hand to tell us to barter a bit more when necessary and to help us find our next purchase. Would there be a bracelet to go with that necklace? We walked away with beaded handbags fit for a night at the Ritz, with colourful woven belts and bags and rustic pottery, and the piece de resistance, the Guatemalan shawl. I was so tempted by a hand woven silk shawl with blues and mauves but thought it was a little expensive so they offered me a cheaper one, which was also gorgeous. Indecision struck but within minutes my ‘new husband’ and young Victor had their heads together and were bartering away. The vendors type the price on a calculator, so an exchange between the boss lady and Paul ensued. They kept passing the calculator back and forth and showing each other the bartered price and all of a sudden he looked at me in anticipation, with a deal of 2 for almost the price of 1, so I am now the proud owner of 2 Guatemalan shawls! 

We ran out of quetzales at this point but fortunately Victor knew where the ATM was hidden, so we reloaded our wallets. A little more shopping and then a watering stop at a very nice local inn. Then, down came the rain! We tried to wait it out but eventually  young Victor managed to borrow some umbrellas from the hotel and we ventured into the deluge for more laughs as we stepped in potholes and knocked tarpaulins with our umbrellas, saturating innocent bystanders who were all good humoured about it.

Back at the Mayan Inn,  we enjoyed an entertaining dinner as the lights went out over Chichicastenango, a few times. Candles were quickly lit, a romantic touch for the Spanish honeymooners, and our waiter gave us a card which explained that he was our ‘right hand man’ for the evening. This meant we could call on him for anything we needed in our rooms – I discovered there was a buzzer to call ‘right hand man’. And, he would give us our wake up call – a knock on the door followed by ‘Buenos dias!’. Our right hand man earned his tip that night as we stayed on in the restaurant for hours, decked out in our Guatemalan shawls and belts and our very wet shoes.

Ahhhhh Chi-chi-casten-angoooooo!

Robyn Smith is a travel agent and tour guide with over fifteen years experience travelling to South and Central America. Visit her at: http://www.bfirsttravel.com/