Picture a skinny, not so well maintained cobblestone road, ridden with puddles and potholes, stretching up a hill for several hundred meters. Now envision dozens of artesan stalls lining either side of the road, selling everything from steaming corn on the cob, fried chicken, potatoes and plantains to Mayan traditional skirts, purses, belts, carved masks and knives to very untraditional burned copies of CDs, cheap jewelry, used American clothes and T-shirts printed with Guatemalan slogans. Every few hundred feet a CD vendor's music blares out reggaeton or traditional marimba. Next, add a continuous stream of people going up and down the streets, every nook and cranny of free space occupied as children wend their way around your feet to offer cheap necklaces and purses. Men dressed in t-shirts jeans or khakis and women in traditional brightly
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