wanderlust.co.uk September 2019 89a Mecca for all things spiritual; San Pedro has long
been dubbed ‘San Pedro Loco’ for its backpacker
party scene; while San Juan is known for its
community-based tourism and weaving
cooperatives, where you can discover the
Maya’s ancient dyeing techniques.
There are new and innovative projects, too.
Pintando Santa Catarina Palopó is aiming to turn
its namesake village into a monumental piece
of art, with colours and designs chosen by
the community. They’re literally painting the
town in the same vibrant blues, greens and
purples and geometric symbols used in their
traditional weavings.
It’s a bid to generate tourism and to create an
alternative source of income away from farming
and fishing, as well as engender a sense of
community pride and entrepreneurship. As
I explored its winding streets, I met one family
painting their house using a specially developed
lime-based paint that’s affordable, durable and
won’t pollute the lake – it’s also similar to that used
by their ancestors 5,000 years ago – then I made my
way to a new family-run cultural centre and Café
Tuk, where I was served first-class coffee. I could
see positive results everywhere.Market forces
From Atitlán, I returned to the highlands and the
misty town of Chichicastenango (aka Chichi), where
the Thursday and Sunday market is one of Central
America’s largest. By 5.30am I was wrapped up
against the chill and still bleary-eyed as stallholder
Doña Encarnación greeted me with a hug.
“I’ve worked in the market for 27 years,” she said,
as I began to help her set up her makeshift stall –
bamboo poles, wooden planks and a tarp for the sun.
“I’ve watched it grow; there are far more tourists
now but there’s still the same sense of camaraderie.”
I helped to hang up her collection of vintage
huipils. As I pulled one after another out of the
sack, it was like seeing the country mapped out in
textiles; the tangle of handwoven threads were
a tangible part of Maya history.
When it was light, I left Encarnación to explore,
stopping off for a cup of warming atol, a Maya
energy drink made from maize and milk spiced with
cinnamon. Along the way I had to dodge locals who
were squeezing down the market’s narrow alleyways
and carrying their wares – sometimes their whole
stalls – on their backs. These goods were wrapped
in colourful perrajes, strips of material that women
use for carrying babies.
Villagers still come from miles around to buy
and sell everything, from fruit and vegetables to
still-squawking chickens, and at the market’s heart is
the brilliant white façade of the centuries-old church
of Santo Tomás, where women congregate on the
steps with bundles of white calla lilies in what looks
like a Diego Rivera painting brought to life.At first glance the candlelit Catholic church was
like any other here: bathed in the musky scent of
palo santo, walls lined with suffering saints. But the
stone floors also had space for Maya rituals, as did
the hilltop cemetery where the colourful crosses
and tombs symbolise the elements.
That afternoon, I met with spiritual guide and
healer Doña Tomasa for my own private Maya
ceremony. She’d covered the ground in aromatic
pine needles and sprinkled them with rose petals
as an invitation to the spirits.
“I learnt from the ancients and started practising
when I was 15,” she told me, as she drew the Maya
cross on to a stone circle in sugar, signifying the
cardinal points with Mother Earth at the centre.
She laid out candles in different colours: red for
the sun, love and protection; white for purity; blue
for the sky and water. Then she lit the fire, feeding it
with cusha, an age-old home-brewed spirit made
from fermented corn, and banished any negative
energy with the medicinal plant chilca, all the while
chanting in the hypnotic Maya language of K’iche’.
The ground was covered in aromatic pine needles
sprinkled with rose petals as an invitation to the
spirits, and bathed in the woody smoke of copal
incense, I found myself drawn in to this elemental
spectacle. I felt the weight of her hand on my
shoulder as I closed my eyes, took a sip of fiery cusha
from her calabash gourd, cast a handful of sesame
seeds into the fire and murmured a wish.
Like Guatemala, the ceremony was a heady feast
for all the senses. I may have walked in ancient Maya
footsteps but I’d witnessed the religiousrituals,
discovered the crafts and tasted thedishesof
a culture that was still very much alive.Blue is the warmest colour
(clockwise from this) The
colourful tombs and crosses
of the Chichicastenango
cemetery; Doña Tomasa
conducts a Maya ceremony;
one of many brightly painted
buildings in Santa Catarina
Palopó’s main square; coee
farmer Walfre holds out raw
coee beans for inspection
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