Sunday at church in Quetzaltenango

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Quetzaltenango, or Xela (Shay-la) as the locals call it, is 2367 metres above sea level and has a population of about 159,700. this is my home for 10 days. It is a medium-sized city that locals really live in, as opposed to places like Antigua where often times it seems like the tourists are the majority. In Xela you feel like you are among the people. And the people are friendly, even welcoming to the lost Gringos asking...or in my case, pleading, for help finding their way.

There is a vibrant indigenous culture here, despite the obvious architectural influence of the Spanish and the German.

I meet some of the women on a rooftop terrace restaurant called El Bacom, overlooking the Park Central square for breakfast. My stomach has a rocky feeling so I simply order tea. We sit in the sun watching down on the street as it begins to stir. It is sunny and breezey, a wonderful combination when you are up high, not so nice at street level where garbage and dirt are whipped up into a messy eye-stinging frenzy. The stillness of the early morning is broken several times by the squaks of a noise poluting bull horn. I am particularly dismpayed to see that the propaganda being spewed is coming from a Coca-Cola van. Coke and Pepsi are shameless corporate pormoters doing serious harm to the people of Guatemala. They prey off their naivity and lack of education, promoting poison to the malnourished, polutiing the environment, and romaniticizing the benefits of an American lifestyle.

Moments before 11am Liz, Janice, Marg and I head over to Iglesia Del Espiritu Santa, the cathedral across the square. When we arrive only moments later mass is getting under way and people are spilling out into the courtyard. There are stacks of the same plastic stools we have seen in almost every home in the Highlands. We grad one and sit off to the side, behind columns, far away from the priest at the pulpit. But it doesn't matter. Every seat is a good seat if you are over 5'7" and have fairly good eyesight. Both sides of the church sport flat screen TV monitors. Since I am 5'8" I can see right over 99% of the congregation. Of course, I haven't a clue what the priest is saying. He is obviously passionate about his topic. His words leap from his lips. Even Liz, who is impressively familiar with the local dialect, has trouble interpreting every turn of phrase. It doesn't really matter though. The stone building speaks for itself. It tell of the importance of religion among these people. Here young and old sit together. I am stunned by the number of teens and young adult sitting among parents and grandparents in such a traditional place.

We stay only long enough to soak in the atmosphere.

Iglesia Del Espiritu Santa has a a colourful history. Originally built in 1532 it was demolished by an earthquake in the early 20th Century. The present cathedral was designed by architect Alberto Porta in the 1900's.
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Everyone goes their seperate ways, which is fine because I am craving a little "me" time. I spend the entire afternoon at "You & Coffee"--Xel's answer to Starbucks. Here I get free WiFi and cheesecake so magnificent that I substitute it for breakfast and lunch. After all, eggs, creme cheese and fruit can't be all bad!

John's new British friends, Jane and Ben are having coffee. Ben shares with me. Friends wander in and out. For a time in the early afternoon it is quiet. I catch up on emails, update my facebook page and teach myself how to sownload photos from my bulging storage card.

It feels good to finally create what i imagine.

I was up most of the night with digestive issues. Last night's dinner at Guiseppie's (an Italian eatery popular with the locals) broke two of my rules...no wheat and no booze. I had pizza and a couple of ounces of beer. As a result, I found myself  scrambling down the hall to the bathroom in the middle of the night. This is not a place you really want to go when it is dark. The hall is outdoors. It is cold. Often the partiers are still rolling around outside our door. At this time of the day the grimey bathrooms seem even grimier. Most have showers to wash the days dust and sweat away and the watery remains make for a dangerously slippery walking surface.Staying at  Casa Argentina is like camping only without the ambiance.

The talk today is all about bedbugs, another drawback of roughing it abroad. Several of the stove project group have them, including Sarah. I imagine that it is inevitable. Fortunately, I have not succumbed. I sleep in my sleeping bag on a mattress carefully wrapped in a thick plastic sheet. The cold night's and my loss of body mass has prompted me to sleep fully clothed, including coat, hat and mitts. Those damn bugs can't find any skin to infest!

My stomach is doing a dance when I leave the coffee shop in the late afternoon, much like a sound you might hear when the plumbing in an old building goes awry. Sarah has a wonderful story to tell about her mountain climbing adventure...just her and a guide. Her photos, as always, are spectacular.

We meet Andre, Davis and Pal near Casa Argentina and they tell us about a restaurant called Royale paris. They go ahead and we try to catch up, but finding your way in Xela in the dark is treacherous and, for me at least, annoying. When we see other groups members we opt for Indian. The food is good but my tummy is not. Before long I am sick and it continues throughout the night.