Last Summer of Freedom

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After three years, I'm sweeping off the internautical dust to keep all my fascinated friends and family up to date with my holiday travelling. I've recently been to Morocco and Istanbul, but Cental America has, even after a mere three days, proved itself well worth the extra long flight (which consisted of watching films anyway). Landing after dark in Guatemala city; which I'm reliably informed is "like a bomb landed in a giant toilet and rubbish tip", we decided to save its dubious charms for the night before our flight home and head straight for Antigua, the tourist, and former poltical, capital.

Having braced my patience for hordes of annoying cabbies and my buttocks for some pretty dodgy roads, I almost couldn't believe it that we easily tagged along in a friend's shuttle taxi, sped along a well-lit and arse-sparingly smooth road to our destination. This was the way to do it; waking up super-early due to Jetlag and climbing onto our roof terrace I could instantly see why its the Gringo capital, domes of colonial churches are dwarfed by lush mountain scenery that encircles the town.

Beyond its great natural and architectural beauty there are two striking elements to Antigua. Firstly that most of the churches lie in ruins following the 1773 earthauake that heralded its partial-abandoment; colossal piers of stonework lie jauntily across what were once naves and apses; now gardens. Given the customary ghastliness of the hyper-baroque interiors of Latin American ecclesiastical institutions, this can only be seen as an improvement.

My second impression was of the unreality of the place. Clearly the government has earmarked it as a flagship for tourism; the streets are immaculate, every shop is for tourists, yet avoiding the tastelessness that usually comes with this, even the hawkers are soft-sell. There are none of the characteristic stray dogs and festering heaps of rubbish that are universal in the developing world (and certain corners of my home-town-to-be Glasgow so I'm told...) There are no beggars. There are no shabby suburbs either as the town is so constrained by mountains and in a state of relative stagnation prior to tourism. It is not all gringos either, it's the play ground of the middle classes of Guatemala City and is a party town too.

This sense of fantasia was most heightened by a trip to a coffee plantation. Though again very well done, cheap and clean, the depiction of the cofee industry would lead anyone to believe that job satisfaction of coffee growers was loosely equivalent to one of the Seven Dwarfs. A Maya cultural centre in said plantation made zero mention of the land seizure and forced labour inflicted on the Maya to grow the bloody stuff. We were treated to a 20 minute video of Maya dancing; there was no commentary and thus however culturally important it was essentially a whole load of meaningless dancing and the dreaded 'traditional music'. Given some of Guatemala's terrible problems with poverty, drugs and the echoes of the horrific civil war within living memory, one cannot begrudge a little bit of unreality and a good dose of putting the best foot forward, not to mention be impressed by the professionalism and breathtaking beauty of the place, but I also have an itch for something a little less sugary.

We're now in Honduras, having visited the impressive Maya ruins at Copan and, in true stingey and pseudo-anthropological style heading by local bus to the beautiful Bay Islands tomorrow. We've already met loads of cool people and look forward to more of the same on Utila. After that the plan is back to 'real' Guatemala, where, according to our cabbie, the the hotly anticipated Backstreet Boys tour will drive the chicas locas, showing perhaps that truth really is stranger than fiction.

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Photos

Antigua
Volcanic de Agua in the background

Creepy Mannequins
there were dozens

Comments

[Mother Dear]

Good old Gus dusting off his \"jolly old Blighty\" blog-speak. Keep it up sunshine. Missing your cooking!