Mayan Wannabe

Written 12-2-08

yesterday was market day in Antigua. the crowds started arriving at eight. by nine, the energy was high and the crowds were flowing. i had just arrived via night bus from Flores with two guys: Paul from the Netherlands and Fabio The Italian.

Paul is a goofy looking guy, well traveled, and a fan of pushing my sensitive american politics button. Fabio is so ridiculously Italian that even now, i smile at how funny he is. Fabio sees the world through his fingertips. the tomato he buys must be the best, the reddest, the ripest. when he smells spices, he stops, savoring the moment, eyes closed, hands outstretched while he slowly draws each individual smell through his Italian nose, as if the sweet aromas were gracing him with their presence. he wears a tight designer shirt, tight designer shorts, and a fanny pack/bum bag hanging loosely and classically from his Italian hips. he motions with his ever-lit cigarette, to the seeds, fruits, vegetables, colors, people, and breathes in the air of someone who enjoys life to the fullest extent, seeing the beauty in the crowded, sweaty market and the toothless old mayan women.

and he is absolutely right. it is beautiful.
i think my favorite thing about the market, besides the colors, is that this isn´t a tourist attraction. everywhere you look there are guatemalan people laughing, hugging, haggling over a one quetzal price difference, buying, selling, and generally feeling the energy that pulses through antigua every monday, thursday, and saturday.

"tomatelechugacebollazanahoriaypapas!"
"piñacocomanzanauvamelonyfresas!"
"camisascinturoneszapatasytiempoaireportelefonos!"

sometimes i wish i was born mayan. overlooking the fact that their people have been persecuted and mass-murdered for hundreds of years, i have a purely selfish reason for wanting to be mayan. i want to be able to wear so much color it hurts the eyes, actually pull it off, and not be the strange white girl trying to dress like a mayan. their clothing is so....cool! pretty printed tops, handmade with love, care, and tradition, long printed skirts wrapped around their hips, sashes around the middle, and ribbons twisted in their hair. i watch with envy the little girls running shouting laughing through the vendors, upsetting old women, chickens, and yes, goats. there was actually a guy walking through the crowds with two goats yelling "leche! leche!"
it was kinda gross.

i made it out alive with no money and a couple of bags. i have a small excuse because it´s cold here and i have zero winter clothes. i needed to make a couple of purchases. along with colorful fabrics and such, you´ll all be shocked to hear i purchased sewing equipment. i guess this is a good time to let you all know i´ve taken on a new task:

I´m going to learn how to do fire spinning.
it´s a good thing my hair is really flammable.

my lovely friend Juan Carlos is an amazing fire-spinner and taught me a few basics. my friend Brad gave me two practice spin ball things called poi, and then my friend Flo just randomly had some extra chain. this was meant to be. so i bought some cloth, thread, and needles and tried to sew some little finger grips. and i actually did it! it took some time, a lot of fuckups and a lot of beer, but i did it! now i can practice and make stuff up, and don´t worry, i won´t be lighting anything on fire soon.

there´s a possibility i might try to climb a volcano in my flip flops today.
if i can sew, i can do this too.