Yesterday we were in no hurry to leave our hotel. We had a nice long steam and dawdled the morning away. We had nowhere to go and all day to get there, or so it seemed. Evdad has always wanted to travel this way, just go and see where the road leads us. Me? I'm all about the planning with days of free time in between reservations. The man has to learn sometime-why not now?
We left Zunil headed north, I'd read about a little town that had a circus church on the square and was also the thread-dying capital of the state. Guidebook promised trees and bushes draped with drying skeins of wool and cotton. Every detour off the main road costs us about thirty minutes of "andamos perdidos, adonde esta...(insert whatever small town or sight you want here)" so I choose carefully. The trouble is, the people we're asking WANT to help, but in general have only ever traveled from their home to the market and to the church. In their desire to be helpful, they make something up. We've become more shrewd about knowing who to ask (Coke deliverymen know a lot). Since Ev is focused on the face rather than the words he can tell right away if our would be help is venturing off into a fantasy instruction. He's always polite, let's them finish and rolls up the window before muttering, "that guy doesn't know jack shit"
We found the clown church but no bushes draped with thread. No vale la pena.
The next little village I wanted to stop in was Totonicapan, a place know for its craftsmen. There is no such thing as a relief route in Guatemala. Every road dumps you smack dab in to the middle of town where there is the parque and of course the church. Toto was bustling and we saw an inordinate number of children still dressed in their pajamas which was puzzling. We took a walkabout and settled on a bench to watch the peoples. I had my fortune told by a canary (my husband adores me, I'm coming into an inheritance soon, and I'm destined to sleep in a dive tonight)
There was cascaron throwing, lots of merrymaking, a band playing. Just a beehive of activity. (Dress code here was pink and purple). Turns out it was Fat Tuesday and all the kids that I thought were in pajamas were in costumes: Spider-Man, tigger, superman, hello kitty, you name it. And all headed to the community auditorium to dance. We declined an invitation and got on the road again.
This is the kind of shopping to be done on my vacation. Those of you that wanted coffee and jade, I'm sorry. I can only offer you cascarones and plastic masks.
All afternoon we were up in the cloud forest, down in cactusville, back up again in banana country and farther up into the clouds. In to towns with no hotels or full hotels so we kept driving and I kept watching the sun angle get lower and lower.
We finally landed in Uspantan on a Fat Tuesday evening with fireworks going off all around. The hotel was grande only because we could pull the car off of the busy street and into this lovely courtyard.
And a Gaudiesque upper deck like this:
That was as good as it got. Teensy bed, panqueque pillows and a floor Muy Resbaloso!
We left Zunil headed north, I'd read about a little town that had a circus church on the square and was also the thread-dying capital of the state. Guidebook promised trees and bushes draped with drying skeins of wool and cotton. Every detour off the main road costs us about thirty minutes of "andamos perdidos, adonde esta...(insert whatever small town or sight you want here)" so I choose carefully. The trouble is, the people we're asking WANT to help, but in general have only ever traveled from their home to the market and to the church. In their desire to be helpful, they make something up. We've become more shrewd about knowing who to ask (Coke deliverymen know a lot). Since Ev is focused on the face rather than the words he can tell right away if our would be help is venturing off into a fantasy instruction. He's always polite, let's them finish and rolls up the window before muttering, "that guy doesn't know jack shit"
We found the clown church but no bushes draped with thread. No vale la pena.
The next little village I wanted to stop in was Totonicapan, a place know for its craftsmen. There is no such thing as a relief route in Guatemala. Every road dumps you smack dab in to the middle of town where there is the parque and of course the church. Toto was bustling and we saw an inordinate number of children still dressed in their pajamas which was puzzling. We took a walkabout and settled on a bench to watch the peoples. I had my fortune told by a canary (my husband adores me, I'm coming into an inheritance soon, and I'm destined to sleep in a dive tonight)
All afternoon we were up in the cloud forest, down in cactusville, back up again in banana country and farther up into the clouds. In to towns with no hotels or full hotels so we kept driving and I kept watching the sun angle get lower and lower.
We finally landed in Uspantan on a Fat Tuesday evening with fireworks going off all around. The hotel was grande only because we could pull the car off of the busy street and into this lovely courtyard.
And a Gaudiesque upper deck like this:
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| And plants like these. |
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