Posts Tagged ‘Shobha’

Guatemala diaries: leaving Chichicastenango for Solola market:

March 26, 2013

089041071072Simba is a very interesting guide; he looks like a guero(white man) but is very connected to the Mayan people. He calls himself a ladino, which means half Mayan and half white. Apparently, his grandfather was an American, who came to Guatemala and had a Mayan mistress whom he abandoned and went back to USA.  I think that must have made Simba bitter about his white ancestry and maybe makes him closer to the Mayan traditions. Whatever the reasons, he is fascinated with the curanderosloosely called witchdoctors in English, but it is more like alternative medicine)  of Guatemala that I mentioned in my first two posts.  having grown up in India, I am very familiar with this whole world of alternative cures and medicines. The sweet woman , Raji, who takes care of my sister’s house and dog in India follows these traditions. When her son has problems with mental health, she prefers going to somebody and ask for advice instead of going to a psychiatrist.

So we follow Simba up the hill to see the colorful gravestones in the cemetery. There is even a gravestone with the Virgin of Guadalupe ( the dark-skinned Mary of Mexico) There are smoke-covered dark areas where the Mayans have obviously used incense, candles and rum offerings to their gods, a prefect blend of local beliefs with the Catholic tradition. We leave Chichicastenango to go onwards to Lake Atitlan . On the way, we stop at another colorful market at Solola to see dark- colored chayotes, vegetables, chillies and fish. Here there is more colorful attire, more Mayan groups from different parts around the lake.

Guatemala diaries:3

March 20, 2013

I realized that my posts are not chronological. So let me start from the beginning. As I mentioned earlier, we had sufficient warning as we picked up our bags from a young woman who lives half the time in Guatemala and the other half in Miami. As we walked out and I was successful in warding off anyone who spoke to me in English by responding in Spanish, we saw our driver ( carrying our name and tour company). Marcelo chattered all the way and I noticed some big buildings. We were staying at Barcelo (Westin chain) close to Zona viva ( Zone 10) the safer zone. The hotel was beautiful and the young man attending to incoming cars assured us we could walk around till 6pm. We stepped outside gingerly and saw ( what else) a Macdonald’s. Reassured by a fast food chain close by we walked towards Zone 10 where most of the tourist crowd was housed in several hotels we could see. The crossroads near the hotel was pretty with a big jacaranda tree in bloom. Lots of little shops lined the sides of the street and we peeped in to look at the wonderful brightly colored textiles. We quickly returned to our hotel. That was our first glimpse of the capital.We were leaving early morning for Chichicastenango, for the Sunday market and we would probably see more exciting handicrafts there.ImageImageImage

Guatemala diaries :2

March 20, 2013

When I first read about Rio Dulce I wondered why a river was considered sweet; probably it looks beautiful, I thought to myself. Early morning on our fifth or sixth day in Gautemala, our guide hustled us to Amatique Bay to take a ride on Rio Dulce. He had not prepared me for the fact that we had to start at Amatique Bay on the Caribbean Sea. Just as we sat in the small boat with the nine of us ( two people to sit on each bench) Arty( that’s my name for him)the guide, casually mentioned,” Oh the Caribbean sea will be a bit rough but once we get to the river we will be fine!” He did not mention how long ( or maybe by then I was too paralyzed with fear to hear him say that; did I forget to mention that I am terrified of boat rides since I feel sick even on the passenger seat of a car?) or how rough.

Well we got on the boat with life-jackets on ( did I mention that I am helpless in water?) and for a while as the driver got the boat going we moved slowly. Then he speeded up  and each time we hit a wave( the water had these tiny waves in them) we moved up and came down. It was terrifying for me and I closed my eyes and held on to the seat in front of me. My hands were tensing on the seat and I kept saying words in Tamil in an undertone.  Then I started counting in my head: one-thousand and one, one thousand and two……. this is my way of passing minutes since my husband sweetly informed me that it would take an hour to cross the sea.  For a while( I would say’while’ equalled about fifteen minutes) I did not see or feel anything around me except the water splashing on me.  But suddenly, I thought of all those people who had plied their boats on this sea taking goods back and forth for centuries,they probably had smaller boats those days, what kind of attire did they wear then? Did they speak different languages? How did the spanish communicate with the mayans? I could actually look at the water around me, see the distant shore on the left of me and even say ” Whoa!” like the other passengers each time the boat rocked up and down.  I was ready to ask Arty some questions and the first one was, ” Why was the river called sweet? Is it because it is calmer than this sea?”  ” Not really, I think the Spanish carried sugar cane from the Caribbean to the ports to carry them across to their country. That is where that name came.”   responded Arty with a laugh. By then I was fine with the rocking and stopped holding on to the front seat telling myself that if I died, we would all die together.

The hour  passed by without my counting every second of it. Soon I could see brown pelicans and gulls skimming near the water, looking for fish. I knew we were close to the shore. “Livingston!’ said Arty as we craned our necks to look at the red 363roofed houses and green foliage dotting the shore.

Guatemala Diaries

March 18, 2013

Just came back from Guatemala, or Guate like they say there. ( Looked at t-shirts that say”Guats up?” or “Guat happened in Gaute?” or something crazy like that) As we started to pick up our baggage we were warned to be careful in Guatemala. I hear this in every new place I go to. I visit India every year and if I did not dress completely like the Indians there but hang around in Western clothes and spoke with an American accent I would have to be wary. I do code- switching as soon as I get in line to get my passport stamped, I bob my head according to the custom there and start mixing Tamil generously with my English. The size of my dot on my forehead increases and once I go to my city Chennai, I wear saris most of the time. Nobody even suspects that I am an NRI( non-resident Indian) except when they see my oversize bags at the airport every time I come and leave!

Ok, this does not work for us in Guatemala. Even though I speak good Spanish, I am carrying a camera and shooting pictures. I am definitely a tourist, it is written large on my face! So I stick with the tourists and have a guide with us. One of the first things that amazes me are the churches. The Spanish came to Guate with their Dominican, Franciscan and Merced missionaries. As a writer, I am tempted to start a historical fiction about the period they came( 1520s) and the way the Mayan Indians have blended their own earlier beliefs with the Catholic beliefs. They have an extra apostle, called San Simon( saint Simon) or Maximon who drinks rum and smokes cigars. They have offerings of rum to him and come to him via shamaans or curanderos to cure them of ills in their lives. They collect orange-colored beans and tell the story of their future lives by arranging and rearranging those beans. These beans grow all along the way to Chichicastenango where you see colorfully clothed Mayan woman selling beautifully embroidered ‘huipiles’ and mats. Near Lake Atitlan there are over 24 different indigenous Mayan languages and varying attire.029 037 027 036 073 148

Chennai Diaries

February 18, 2010

I am back in my homeland to escape the severe cold of Chicago. It is more humid this February than last year and the almond tree shed its red leaves in a hurry . The sweeper hardly had time to get the leaves out of the way so the nearby dogs would not pee on the piles long enough to leave a permanent ammonia stink as I walk past it. Now the tree is filled with the succulent, green leaves with sprigs of white  and light green flowers that will soon change to the almond pods. These pods look like green peaches and I can see a few as I get to the fourth floor verandah and see the higher branches of this massive tree.

Under the tree ,a whole family lives, ironing clothes for the neighborhood.  I have to restate that.  They do not live there, but settle down for the day, from, say, nine in the morning, till six in the evening. with their bundle of clothes. My mother and sister give them clothes for ironing and the young woman comes in with a big smile and carries the heavy bundle cheerfully back to her perch under the tree. She is the mother of the two sons who do most of the ironing along with her husband. She looks older than she really could be, perhaps beacuse she is out in the sun all day and her face looks weather beaten.  Right now the temperature is hovering in the late eighties and early nineties.  How will they feel when Chennai gets really hot in April, May?