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There are many adjectives that could describe the ever so charming city of Chichicastenango.
Sadly, charming would not be one of them.
Instead:
Dirty. Crowded. Sickly. Loud. Dangerous. Annoying. Industrial. Etc.
My first impression of Chichi was not a good one as I surveyed the view from our tiny balcony. All I could see were grey, decrepit rooftops stretching far into the distance. Plus, it was kind of weird that I could see into several of the house´s yards spread out before me and I could spy on their families.
The market on Saturday was small and not worth describing. Actually, that´s a lie. The mini open air market was disgusting-the scent of beheaded chickens filled the air and small children ran hither and yon between our feet, dolls and magnets clutched tight in their grubby fists, shoving their goods into our faces despite our pleas of "No, gracias, no, no quiero, no, gracias, pero no, NO!" At one point a good five of them descended on us like a flock of vultures, stepping on each other's feet in their desperation to be first.
One girl followed us around like some sort of possessed child, walking with us for blocks. Her eyes were basically the scariest thing I have ever seen. They had no iris and I'm pretty sure if I looked directly into her eyes she would have stolen my soul.
It didn´t help that she had an insane exorcist voice with which she said throatily, while clawing at our jackets, "Mi amiiiiiiiiiiga, solo uuuuuuno, me dijissssssssste que vas a compraaaaaaaaar." (My friend, just one, you told me you were going to buy...)
I'm pretty sure that if I cared to look out my hotel window that night (ha, as if I would open the window and let the deafening polka music permeate the room) that she would have been floating at eye level with her hair spread out and waving, legs dangling limply and frantically waving her bag of goods at me.
The only thing that scared them away was the camera. Whenever we whipped it out, they screamed and scampered, only to return later when the threat of the camera was gone. In fact, the frightening little kid came running back and punched another kid in the face who was trying to sell us something. I´m pretty sure she laughed when he ran off crying. Demon child.
Eventually we returned to the hotel and played card games and did nothing for five hours, until later when it began to be dark, small children emerged from the hotel and surrounding streets, and we amused ourselves for HOURS with them. They were so cute, and were obsessed with having their pictures taken. One boy in particular I adored, he was only two years old and wore cute little blue rain boots. He never seemed to tire of running up to one of the boys in our group and yelling "MONSTER!" in spanish, and then running back to me, throwing himself in my lap, and screaming in delight before repeating the action. He also liked to "play" the guitar and listen to the cd player.
Eventually we organized a humongous game of pato, pato, ganzo with essentially every kid in our group and all of the little ones. It was the cutest thing of my life to see them running around chasing each other. The cute-boot kid, in particular. Once he was chosen as goose, and tried to chase whoever had picked him, but instead of tagging them he ran straight to me and jumped into my lap. SO CUTE.
Later we went up on the balcony and spied several kids in the street below us, talking. Since I love friends, I of course called down to them and struck up a conversation about soccer. They wanted to play, but they didn't have a ball, so we threw down three quetzales from three stories up, and they ran and bought a ball. They kept throwing it up to us so that we could throw it down and they could head it. Eventually a rival group of kids came and played a large, loud game of soccer. We were screaming and laughing along with them until a British woman came out and brushed her teeth ferociously in our direction, so we got a bit quieter.
After an hour we were all best friends and I had convinced them to say "Oh SNAP" and sing Shakira for me. However, we were forced to retire.
Yesterday we woke up early with the promise of the real Sunday market--and what a market it was. Forget Walmart. Can you get pigs and ducks and quilts the size of idaho in target? I think not.
The only problem was that it was very crowded, and the danger of pickpocketing can be a real problem, so we stuck close together and fought our way through the crowds of mayans and small possessed children. A scary drunk man grabbed me and someone else, which was rather disconcerting, but we left the area.
I saw the soccer kids from last night--I was walking past and I thought I saw them, and when they saw me they started singing. Then I ran away.
But yes, everyone bought a ton of stuff and it was fantastic.
By the end I know a lot of people could not wait to make it back to Xela--I certainly did not appreciate the city enough before Chichi. It's lovely. Sandra's house felt like coming home.
Sadly, the other student in our house left today to go on to bigger and better things. I'm really going to miss her, though. She was like a big sister to us and helped us out when we were clueless But we are all really going to miss her.
Hey, Ashley, if you ever read this, you were awesome.
So that was our Chichicastenango adventure.
I know you're jealous.
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(Su)padre
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Cuarto de Julio and Compras
Happy Fourth of July! I do not recommend setting off pyrotechnics in Guatemala. No jail for you. About shopping and Mom's souvenirs......how are you going to manage getting the duck and the little boy with blue boots back home? Your bag is only so big, you know. Missing you, Dad