This weekend Bruce and I had very little planned. We kind of let the time happen, and thus we happened upon a couple of interesting events.
On Saturday evening, we were returning home from the free movie at a local cafe. It was dark, nearly 9pm, the witching hour by when you should be safe inside your home - or a taxi. But we were walking, having chosen the busiest - and what we hoped were the safest - streets. As we rushed along, we looked up and saw candles flickering from a sidewalk leading into an ancient church. From the church doors, people were spilling out onto the surrounding lawn and patio where a tent was set up with tables. The only lighting was candlelight. Muy romantico! And then we noticed the bride and groom and realized that we had happened upon a wedding.
We slowed down and nearly stumbled over a case of fireworks sitting on the pavement, about to be set off. We scurried out of the way and watched while beautiful colored lights went screaming high into the night sky with a resounding boom. What a way to celebrate a marriage! Quite enchanting.
Yesterday Bruce went off to a sports bar to watch the World Cup Rugby finals between New Zealand and France. I was home alone, quietly reading, when I heard band music outside. The music got closer and closer until it sounded like it was just outside the front door. I excitedly grabbed my camera and ran to fling open the door. There, two feet in front of me (there are no front lawns here) was a funeral procession. I ditched the camera and assumed a sober countenance, too intrigued to close the door. Everyone was dressed in black, everyone was walking, and the coffin was the largest that I´ve ever seen. It must have been four feet across and 5 feet tall. At least 16 -20 people struggled to carry it, including many young women. Trailing the group were musicians, some playing brass instruments and drums. They all processed slowly down the street and out of sight. It seemed very old world and ancient, with none of the modern trappings of hearses and motor cars and funeral directors.
The Guatemalan culture is full of contrasts and ironies. For example, the used clothing that finds its way down here from the USA. Today, back at our Safe Passage routine, I couldn´t help but smile at the man we passed on our bus ride, trudging along in this busy, smoggy foreign city, wearing a University of Pennsylvania t-shirt. And later, at school, the 6 year old boy wearing the Mount Rushmore t-shirt. Places and names so familiar to us - but just clothing to them. When we were in Xela, we spotted a familiar item of clothing hanging in front of a store - it was a Portland Seadogs sweatshirt!
All is well here in Antigua but it is getting colder and the homes have no insulation or any heating systems. We are told that these luxuries are not needed because it never gets that cold - let`s hope so!
On Saturday evening, we were returning home from the free movie at a local cafe. It was dark, nearly 9pm, the witching hour by when you should be safe inside your home - or a taxi. But we were walking, having chosen the busiest - and what we hoped were the safest - streets. As we rushed along, we looked up and saw candles flickering from a sidewalk leading into an ancient church. From the church doors, people were spilling out onto the surrounding lawn and patio where a tent was set up with tables. The only lighting was candlelight. Muy romantico! And then we noticed the bride and groom and realized that we had happened upon a wedding.
We slowed down and nearly stumbled over a case of fireworks sitting on the pavement, about to be set off. We scurried out of the way and watched while beautiful colored lights went screaming high into the night sky with a resounding boom. What a way to celebrate a marriage! Quite enchanting.
Yesterday Bruce went off to a sports bar to watch the World Cup Rugby finals between New Zealand and France. I was home alone, quietly reading, when I heard band music outside. The music got closer and closer until it sounded like it was just outside the front door. I excitedly grabbed my camera and ran to fling open the door. There, two feet in front of me (there are no front lawns here) was a funeral procession. I ditched the camera and assumed a sober countenance, too intrigued to close the door. Everyone was dressed in black, everyone was walking, and the coffin was the largest that I´ve ever seen. It must have been four feet across and 5 feet tall. At least 16 -20 people struggled to carry it, including many young women. Trailing the group were musicians, some playing brass instruments and drums. They all processed slowly down the street and out of sight. It seemed very old world and ancient, with none of the modern trappings of hearses and motor cars and funeral directors.
The Guatemalan culture is full of contrasts and ironies. For example, the used clothing that finds its way down here from the USA. Today, back at our Safe Passage routine, I couldn´t help but smile at the man we passed on our bus ride, trudging along in this busy, smoggy foreign city, wearing a University of Pennsylvania t-shirt. And later, at school, the 6 year old boy wearing the Mount Rushmore t-shirt. Places and names so familiar to us - but just clothing to them. When we were in Xela, we spotted a familiar item of clothing hanging in front of a store - it was a Portland Seadogs sweatshirt!
All is well here in Antigua but it is getting colder and the homes have no insulation or any heating systems. We are told that these luxuries are not needed because it never gets that cold - let`s hope so!
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