A fair few weeks have passed since I rolled into Antigua, Guatemala one dark, misty night, but it has taken me that long to process all that went on there. After another epic 10 hour bus journey we squeezed our way into the busy, dark, wide streets of Antigua. As our big rucksacks were bustled by the throngs of people crowding the streets we realised just how silly we had been to pop to a legendary festival town on the busiest weekend of the year without hostel reservations. For a while it was beginning to look just like a biblical story, no room at the inn anywhere.... and just to add to the confusion as we went to cross a street in search of a manger our path was blocked by the eery apparition of a huge Jesus Statue being carried along in a procession of trumpets and swinging incense clouds.
Perhaps I better explain about Antigua. You see the small town is renowned in Central America for its Easter Celebrations. Every year the town fills with people, statues and processions fill the streets and the roads are adorned with beautiful carpets of dried flowers and coloured sawdust, destined to be trampled under pious feet.
So within 10 minutes of arriving in the town all our expectations had been confirmed! Miraculously we managed to find a place to stay (one step up from a donkey’s pen) and we went out for a better look around.
The whole town had a feel of a Dan Brown novel (but better written). Everyone taking part in the procession wore long, purple robes and carried cross-topped staffs. Clouds of incense hung in the air long after the floating effigies had passed. Each Statue base was the size of a small car and involved lines of people either side lugging the weigh on their shoulders like coffin bearers.
We spent the next couple of days taking in the dramatic displays. On Good Friday things stepped up a notch and we were disconcerted to have just bought lunch at a busy little food market only to look up and see an effigy of Judas hanging from the trees. After 3pm, the time Jesus was crucified, everyone changed to black robes, making things even more eerie and giving the place a sense of mourning.
It was particularly interesting to watch the almost masochistic precision with which people took to making the carpets of flowers which lined the routes and were trodden to dust under the procession’s feet. Something interestingly cyclical and re-birth-like about that. But, for the short time they existed they painted the streets with glorious colours and patterns, offset nicely by the moving, constant sea of purple robes.
Easter Saturday Ben I am decided to head to Lake Atitilan, which Aldous Huxley described as the most beautiful lake in the world. Now Huxley was pretty smart and all but he clearly hadn’t been to the lake on Easter weekend. Instead of the pristine, natural beauty we were expecting we were welcomed with hoards and hoards of Guatemalan party makers. It was actually great to be away from the tourist crowds and we had a great time exploring. It turns out Lake Atitilan, on Easter weekend at least, is Central America’s answer to Blackpool! We made chip butties, took a bumpy boat ride out onto the rainy lake (my scenic seat meant I got very very wet and caused the other passengers no end of delight), watched the ring toss, fairground games and Ben got his wallet robbed. It was the whole deal! A very bizarre day out, not at all what Huxley had promised us but a strange new world at least!
On Easter Day itself I accompanied Ben to the cathedral for 5 minutes of mass before my atheism got in the way and I headed to the artisan chocolate shop and the comic book store for some decadence.
The next day we were up at 4.30am for a flight back to Costa Rica, and we got back just in time to catch the bus up to uni! Many coffees later and I was home at last after a fantastic Easter holiday!
Lessons learnt:
Whether in Guatemala or Mexico- always always always try the spicy sauce before slathering your food in it.
Dyed sawdust may not be a smart business career path but for one weekend in Guatemala you could make a fortune!
No matter how much you know it is not the point, big, pointy white hoods can’t help but scare the pants of me with reminders of the KKK!
The hoods are even more extreme in Xela during Semana Santa. The University there uses the holiday to mark their protests - so each faculty has their own colour of gown and hood (which covers their faces) and they block the streets and carry huge signs or figures and force people to pay a "tax"... Scared the snot out of me, the first time. :)
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