Tumulos

Tumulos or topes as they are called in Mexico are small concrete hot dogs that lay across the road intended to make your life miserable if you're driving a little shit box.  Which we are.  On the way to Chichicastenango yesterday, we scraped the tops off of at least half a dozen tumulos which made me rethink our plans to drive up to the remote areas of the state of Quiche as originally planned.  Plus I was rethinking my gusto for a nineteen dollar a night hotel.  I tend to forget from time to time how I detest sleeping on a plastic covered mattress without mattress pad.

The Sunday market in Chichicastenango is the biggest in the nation.  I knew it was going to be a rough day for Evdad and gave him plenty of warning.  It was insane.  Traffic, the peoples, the sounds and the smells were overwhelming.  We found a place to leave the car, fought off several tour guides and off we went.  I just wanted to see and feel and hear.   I didn't want the added burden of having to listen.

It was a sensory feast.  We let ourselves be pushed along by  a river of short brightly festooned women going about the serious business of provisioning their homes.

When we arrived back to the parking lot we discovered our car was blocked by four cars and a pick up truck.  That's us on the far side of the van. They were moved expertly by the young attendants, Ev threaded the needle and got our car out.  As quick as we could, we got out of the city and pulled off on a scenic overlook to consult the map.

 Decided on Zunil.  This is the ceiling in our room, and all that that implies.

However, thirty steps from our room is a small building you can lock yourself in.  You tug something akin to a manhole cover off of a hole in the floor, and out comes steam directly from the bowels of the earth.  You can stay in there as long as long as you want.  Woot!