Cha Cha Cha: Cuba Music

Cha Cha Cha Cuban Music                        March 23, 2017

Hearing Cuban music was one of the goals of our trip.  We didn’t hear a lot, since it required staying up past our bedtimes!  But one evening we did hear a quartet at a favorite resto.  A singer, a keyboard player, a drummer, and a guitar player, sounding to me a lot like Buena Vista Social Club, kept us intrigued for an hour or so!  

One of the most interesting experiences that we had in Cuba was connected to Bruce’s two violin lessons.  He had arranged them before we arrived in Cuba.  At the appointed time on our 2nd full day in Havana, a cute young fellow appeared at our BnB to escort us, by taxi, to the music school, which was several miles away.  That was our first taxi experience, chugging along and crossing our fingers with each downshift.  

When we arrived at the school, a small building with a cozy anteroom entrance, we were eagerly greeted by the school manager.  He immediately introduced Bruce to his teacher, Julian, an older fellow who has played violin with the symphony and on the recordings of Cesaria Evora, a Cape Verde singer!  This second bit really got our attention, since Cesaria Evora is a favorite of ours!  

Bruce's Cuban fiddle mentor, Julian

While Bruce began learning Cuban tunes in a back practice room (lined with egg cartons for sound-proofing), I had a great chat with the young manager, who was fluent in English, knowledgeable about American politics, and knew the capital of Maine!  

I also met a young artist (lots of young folks in this story) who was working on a mural that filled a whole wall space in the office area of the school.  From a low perspective, it looked up at a large fiddle player.  I couldn’t help but wonder (later) if it was a painting of Julian and if its size symbolized the great esteem in which he is held at the school.   

During the week between his two lessons, Bruce serenaded our BnB hosts with fiddle tunes as he practiced.  The Afro-Cuban beat was very different, and it was challenging. Nothing like the Quebecois/Cape Breton tunes that are the staple of Fiddlicious, his fiddle group in Maine. Luckily for someone who plays by ear, Bruce had recorded the songs on his phone and could listen to them frequently.

The second lesson took place the day before we left Cuba.  By this time, we had been taking taxis for several days.  It was still a stressful operation, in that the route to the school of music required two different taxis, which meant two instances of hailing an old American taxi and negotiating a price for where we were going.  If that weren’t challenging enough, there was the added pressure of deciphering which currency was being used, the currency for Cuban nationals or that for tourists.  The two got mixed up and caused confusion!  

Having successfully undertaken the taxi ride itself, we found ourselves in the area where the school was located.  However, we didn’t have a street address, just a small paper map with a dot on it and couldn’t remember exactly where the school was or what it looked like. We wandered around the neighborhood, asked 4-5 different people, and finally a worker on a big electrical project on the street said, with authority, “Venga!” (Come!). With us following behind him like baby ducklings, he crossed the street - and there was the school.  His buddies were lined up watching and laughing at the spectacle.  But we got there!  

The pleasant ante-room of the music school

The lesson went along well, despite the fact that there was no power in the building due to the aforementioned electrical work going on in the street.  This meant that the practice room was too dark and too hot, and so the lesson was moved to the office area.  Very typical of Cuba, we found.  Flexibility and patience are essential.  The reward for Bruce was a priceless musical souvenir.

This is my last Cuba post. Bruce and I are in Pensacola, Florida, right now, just about to cross into Alabama to begin the civil rights part of our trip. Stay tuned for a post or two about the American south.

In the meantime, I have a couple of links that may interest the curious reader who wants to learn a bit more about Cuba. One is a fascinating piece from today's NY Times, describing an American-conducted survey of Cubans' dreams for the future:

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/21/world/americas/cuba-survey-economic-growth-and-opportunity.html?module=WatchingPortal&region=c-column-middle-span

The other piece is a couple of years old, but seems relevant still, about the food situation in Cuba, from the Manchester Guardian.
http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/apr/24/cubans-food-struggle-rations-consuming-obsession

Classy Cuban Chassis

Classy Cuban Chassis March 21, 2017

One of the things that Cuba is known for, of course, is her classic American cars.  We noticed them immediately on our way into the city from the airport.   I had expected to see a few in Old Havana - but it turned out that they were everywhere!  The spiffiest of them, mostly convertibles, are used as touring cars for tourists, driven by guys wearing straw hats.

  

Many of the rest, old and rusty, sputtering along amidst clouds of exhaust fumes, are used as taxis.  We had a few rides in those, and they were an experience: no shocks, each change of gears a miracle, sharing the space with anyone else who needed a ride.  I read that after the revolution in 1959, Castro had forbidden private citizens to buy cars due to the American embargo and the lack of gasoline.  So, folks have had to hang onto the cars that they had at that point, repairing them as best they could and passing them on to family members as part of their inheritance.   

We also saw old Russian Ladas, which apparently have a less than stellar reputation in the western world. Bruce asked someone if Ladas were "cheap", referring to quality. The response was, "There are no cheap cars in Cuba." HE was referring to price, which is probably uppermost in the minds of Cuban citizens.

A patriotic Lada.

We also saw some newer foreign cars, such as Hyundais, Kias, and Peugeots. I'm guessing that they were purchased by government employees for government business, such as the official taxis ferrying passengers back and forth to the airport.

But no new modern American cars, for obvious reasons.  The old ones, both the shiny convertible touring cars and the shabby old taxis are such a testamony to the mechanical ingenuity of their owners, who must scrounge or invent parts when needed!

Here are a few others that I caught in my lens:

Love this hood ornament.

The old cars in Cuba were a bit of a trip down memory lane for Bruce and me.  I thought of my dad, who loved Pontiacs.  Mom was a Chevy gal all her life.  Aunt Nellie always bought Fords.  My family definitely bought American - until I came along!

My mom had a Chevy like this, which we named Tillie!

We think this is a Ford.

Bruce’s memories tended toward the more exotic.  He told me about his uncle Phil, a pharmacist in Southwest Harbor, Maine, who somehow got his hands on a German car, a Borgward.  Bruce tried to get his dad to buy a Citroen - without success.  His dad did purchase a British Ford, smaller and more boxy in shape than an American Ford.  My first car was a Saab, which I loved but owned for less than a year before my marriage required downsizing - to Bruce’s car!  His car at that time was a Nissan Datsun which twice took us from Maine to Arizona and back.  

The old cars in Cuba are treated gently, even reverently, befitting machines that have lasted for 60+ years and are expected to keep on going.  I noticed that no one slams the doors shut. If a driver anticipates that you might be going to shove it a bit too hard, he'll reach over and catch it and then close it like it's his baby - or his meal ticket!

   

Cuba - What a Trip!

Cuba - What a Trip March 17, 2017

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”  St. Augustine

Our time in Havana, Cuba, was fascinating - the pastel buildings, the classic American cars, the turbulent history,  the current political situation, the music, the people.  Our Spanish language skills got a real work-out!  We learned a lot about the culture, the society, and the city in general.  It’s a Latin and Caribbean culture inside of a Communist system.  The only other Communist nation that we’ve visited is Laos, five years ago.  Thanks to the openness of the Cuban people, we were able to learn a lot more about life there than we did about Laotian life.  

Our first three days were spent at an Airbnb in Vedado, an area of once-lovely homes in Havana, now in a severely declined state. Traces of the original art deco design or the colonial grandeur can be seen, and some homes are in good condition.  However, most are in need of paint and repair, having become dingy, often with a boarded up window, laundry handing on the front porch or across a window, dirt yards.  The sidewalks, while wider than those in Guatemala, are broken and pose all sorts of hazards to the unobservant wanderer.  

In some ways, that’s the superficial stuff, though it says a lot about conditions there.  The people are another story.   We were warmly received by the Airbnb hosts in both places where we stayed - and by many other people!

Elisa, our first host, was a woman in her thirties, tall and dark and intelligent and what I would think of as an elegant Spanish lady with bangles and a certain pizzaz in her dress.  She was friendly and open. In addition to husband Pablo, she had a friendly, efficient housekeeper who came each morning to fix us breakfast and to clean, after she got her own children off to school.  Although Elisa’s Airbnb site lists her partner as her sister Anita, it turns out that Anita is in Spain, studying to be a doctor!  

Our first host, Elisa, and her housekeeper, Valerie.

Our first Airbnb. That piazza is where we had our yummy breakfasts.

Elisa’s pretty home was situated on the second floor of an early 20th century building, on a busy city street.  Since our room was in the front, we were often awakened by loud engine noises - big busses, trucks carrying cement pieces, cars in need of mufflers, etc., most belching clouds of engine smoke. But the inside space at Elisa's home was lovely, with tall ceilings and artsy, antique decor.  I had a wonderful place to write, on a glass table facing tall French doors that opened onto a piazza furnished with comfortable wicker furniture.  

               I loved the glass table in front of the tall French doors. 

Nearby was a large, aqua-colored primary and middle school.  We could watch the children arrive in the morning, accompanied by their parents. They wore uniforms that looked to me like quintessential Communist outfits - red shorts or skirt, white shirt, and a red bandana around the neck.  

                 This public school serves primary up through middle school students.

                             School children out for a field trip in Old Havana. 

Because Elisa could accommodate us for only 3 nights, we had made arrangements to stay in a different area of town for the rest of our time in Cuba.  We moved to Miramar, a neigbhorhood a bit farther away from “Old Havana” and more upscale.  This area is said to be the most elegant - and it certainly was lovely.  The main avenue (5th Avenue) is a broad boulevard with a narrow park down the middle.  It is lined with gorgeous old mansions - probably owned originally by those who fled to Miami after the revolution - that are now used mostly as foreign embassies or offices.  Our abode, on a side street was, oddly enough, much more modest than our space at Elisa’s.  

In our second Airbnb, our room was upstairs in the front corner. We ate breakfast in the tiny outside space where the shade is partially down.

The traffic noises were replaced by barking dogs and crowing roosters (we were in the Caribbean, after all).  But all of that was made up for by the nicest, most helpful hosts that one could ask for, Pedro and Stefany, who also outdid themselves with creative, beautifully presented breakfasts! They are a young couple with two little children.  He speaks good English and made himself available to our every need :), including escorting us to a wonderful nearby resto, showing us the ropes in taking taxis, finding internet access, and getting money changed.  She is a wonderful mother, a university grad on a year’s maternity leave, subsidized - to a small extent - by the Cuban government.  

We were close to the beach in Miramar and made the short walk to the shore each evening to watch the sun set, one of our sweetest delights. 

I had expected the weather to be very hot and humid in Cuba.  It was actually a bit cooler and drier than I had expected, probably in the low 80’s, though we heard that summer weather is much steamier! Mid-day walking in March got pretty warm but evening was like a lovely July evening in Maine. Speaking of Maine, one day we were walking along a street, past a well-kept building with a gate and a guard.  We began chatting with the guard, an 80 (!) year old fellow.  When he learned that we were from Maine, he brightened up and emerged from his guard box to tell us about having spent a summer of his youth with his family on Cobbosseecontee Lake (where I spent many summers of my childhood!).  We missed much of his free-flowing Spanish tale but were able to immediately understand his motion of paddling a canoe!

Ernest Hemingway famously lived in Cuba for many years.  His haunts are all great draws for tourists.  At the Hotel Ambos Mundos (Both Worlds) in Old Havana, where Ernesto spent a lot of time in the 1930’s, we spent an hour or so relaxing, sipping limonadas, listening to live music, and reveling in the old world feel of high ceilings, dark wood-framed windows, and tall French doors open to the outside. The lobby bustled with tour groups, many taking an antique, iron elevator up to Hemingway’s 5th floor room, left as it had been when he stayed there.  

Hotel Ambos Mundos was a delightful spot to sip a limonada and watch the people.  

We had some wonderful, open conversations with various residents about the state of affairs here in Cuba.  There is great pride in three pillars of the system:  the education system (free at all levels from pre-school to PhD), the excellent free medical care for everyone, and the general level of public safety since no one is allowed to own a gun. Wow - what's not to like? Given the high percentage of black citizens in Cuba, I wondered about racism.  A white fellow proudly volunteered that racism does not exist in Cuba.  A black fellow says that there is “soft” racism.  In any case, it seems that much of the population has some black heritage and the racial divide is much more muted.  

Difficulties in Cuba seem to center on economic issues and include the lack of goods, the poor quality and high prices of those goods, along with very low salaries.  We have heard that it is hard for people to buy a car or a home. It’s not unusual for people to have two jobs to make ends meet, including doctors who may drive taxis on the side.  This hardship is often attributed to the American embargo.  In fact, we passed a large poster downtown, showing a picture of a big noose strangling Cuba, with the word “Bloqueo” (Embargo).  As one might expect in a Communist nation, there is a lot of propaganda written on marqees and spray painted on walls and neatly printed on sides of buildings, telling how much Fidel Castro and Che Guevara are appreciated and instilling communal values.  

     Unofficial wall murals.  There still seems to be a lot of passion about the revolution.  

There is also general frustration at the lack of information about the outside world - but that is changing, “thanks to Obama and Google”, in the words of one person.  Access to the internet is limited to wireless hot spots, businesses, hotels and Internet cafes.  Few people have Internet at home.

           These folks gathered spontaneously one evening in a hot spot for internet.  

We, ourselves, would appreciate access to the internet without having to go to a central location, pay a fee, and wait for a turn.  It is possible to buy a card that’s good for an hour of use - outdoors in a park, where there apparently is wifi (we don’t know how this works!).  We have seen clusters of folks with their laptops or phones, sitting where there must be a “hot spot” for wifi,  on a curb or outside a hotel.  

More to our liking was the internet space in a modern business center where we sat in a large, air-con room with about 30 other folks, renting a desk computer for an hour.  It reminded us of our internet cafe days in France 10 years ago.  We restricted ourselves to one visit, mid-way through our 10 day visit. While we did not miss the daily barrage of disturbing US political news that we listen to at home, we certainly felt cut off from personal news while we were in Cuba.  We crossed our fingers that all would be well at home, while we were out of contact.  But, as Tom Friedman notes in his book, Thank You for Being Late, the genie is out of the box.  Now that the underdeveloped world has access to the internet, even limited access, they know what they are missing, in terms of freedom and basic goods, not to mention luxury items and connection to the rest of the world.  Pressure will be put to bear on leaders to improve life everywhere.  

We are Cuba.

We are aware of the fact that the American embargo is seen as standing in the way of a better life for Cuban citizens. They very much value the social gains that they have achieved.  Most are uneasy about possible changes in the future, despite wanting higher incomes and an easier life.  When asked what he would hope for in a relationship between the USA and Cuba, one thoughtful person responded, “Respect and lifting of the embargo”.  There is a lot about this society to respect:  they have thrown off the yoke of a colonial power, overthrown a dictator, resisted the invasion of their powerful neighbor, the US - all in their attempt to improve the lives of the common person.  We heard little to nothing about a heavy-handed, repressive government, which surely does exist in Cuba. However, respect by our country for their admirable achievements and lifting of the embargo seem like reasonable and achievable goals.  

Splish Splash

Splish Splash                     March 4, 2017

    The lovely pool at the Barcelo Hotel in Guatemala City.

Thursday, the 2nd of March, was the day for an outing with "our" boys from Safe Passage:  Jordie, age 12 (whom First Parish sponsors); Charly, age 11 (whom we sponsor); his brother, Pablo, age 7 (whom Matt & Izik sponsor).  We had traveled in the morning from Antigua to Guatemala City, where the boys live, a journey of about an hour.  Our plan was to stay at the elegant Barcelo Hotel for just that night so that we'd be close to the airport for our flight to Florida the next day - AND so that we could host the boys at the swimming pool there.  

This idea had been sloshing around in my mind for about a year, since we had stayed at Barcelo last year (pretty soggy idea, by now :). We had checked things out when we were at the Barcelo on arrival in Guate a month ago.  Not only did the swimming pool seem like it would work for the kids, but amazingly, there was a McDonald's next door!  Perfect set up.  My only worry was that we might not be welcome to invite guests.  We had decided not to ask but to just do it.  As it turned out, it was fine - more than fine.  

I had purchased swim suits for the three boys, which was a bit of an ordeal in itself.  Swim suits for boys are not all that plentiful in Guate, especially in my price range.  But, between a street vendor in Panajachel, as well as one of many "pacas" (used clothing stores), and a vendor in the sprawling mercado in Antigua, we got the job done.  

Carlos, the sponsorship worker from Safe Passage, had done his homework by asking the advice of the social workers at SP, who had advised him, of course, to seek permission from the boys' parents. Both sets of parents had agreed.  

It was arranged that Carlos would meet the boys at the Safe Passage project and bring them in a taxi to the Barcelo in time for lunch at Mickey D's. 

           Back row:  Bruce, Ronald McD, & Linda
           Front row:  Charly, Pablo, & Jordie 

Then we'd find our way through the glossy tiled lobby of the Barcelo with its gilded ceiling and past the upscale shops to the pool area.  I had been a bit awed the first time I had seen all of this splendor and wondered how it would affect the boys.  They seemed to take it in stride :). 

   The elegant lobby area of the Barcelo - all gold and glistening!

I also wondered how Charly, especially, would feel about this adventure, given the fact that he had told us last year that he is afraid of water.  He seemed ok with it, and I was hopeful that the experience might help to build some confidence.  It seemed that might not be the case, however, when, within the first minute of getting into the water, little Pablo went under unexpectedly.  I pulled him up immediately, but it was clear that he was scared and was struggling not to cry.  Carlos came to the rescue, as did the life guard on duty, both of whom saved the day by talking gently to Pablo and reassuring him (in Spanish, of course). Within just a few minutes, all three boys were splashing and kicking and trying out various maneuvers that they'd seen somewhere.  

                                               Bruce and the boys

        Helping Pablo to get the idea of swimming

Over the course of the next hour, the boys seemed to evolve before our very eyes!  All three challenged themselves to put their faces into the water.  Charly and Jordie began floating and then trying out some strokes to propel themselves and finally were racing each other (albeit for short distances)!  We were amazed and very, very pleased.  

                Pablo, Jordie, Charly, Linda & Bruce

Carlos didn't join us in the water but kept a close eye on the boys while chatting with the life guard.  He learned that it's fine for guests of the hotel to invite their friends for a swim.  He told us that this had never been done with any kids from Safe Passage - but he felt it had been a good experience for them.  So...how about it, First Parish members, does anyone want to visit Guate and stay at the Barcelo and invite the boys for a swim?  (Carlos will be there to do any necessary translating :).  

            Three tired boys as Carlos calls a cab to take them home.

End of Classes and a Weekend Treat

End of Classes and a Weekend Treat        March 1, 2017

                             Hola! (o-la = hello)    & Adios

Our two weeks of Spanish classes absolutely flew by, what with 2 hours of daily class as well as homework each day, in addition to our other activities such as my teaching English three days a week; movie-watching three times with our friend, Lisa (we've seen most of the Oscar nominations now); my flu bug in the middle weekend that slowed us down temporarily; and the never-ending, it seems, process of arranging for the next steps of our adventure, ie rental of Airbnb's in Florida, Cuba & Alabama; car rental in Florida; plane reservations to Cuba and home from Memphis; financial planning between various currencies, making sure that we have enough quetzales but not too many :); shuttle rides within Guatemala; arrangements with Safe Passage to visit with "our" boys;  etc, etc.  Bruce takes care of most of the details, thank goodness - and then soothes himself with some fiddle playing!  He was looking forward to the end of school just like a kid anticipating summer vacation!

             Jabel Tinamit Spanish School in Panajachel

On our last day of class, last Friday, the 24th, there was a little celebration to say good-bye and thanks for attending Jabel Tinamit Spanish School and for helping teach the teens. Several students were honored with thanks, including Bruce and me.  The owners of the school, Candelaria and Gregorio, have a talent for making each of us feel special.  Never letting pass an opportunity to expand our cultural knowledge, Candelaria also offered everyone tastes of various exotic Guatemalan fruits that we would never have tried otherwise, I'm sure.  These included the sweet, orange-fleshed zapote; the purple, slippery-fleshed guandura; the seedy, delicious granadilla; and the red plum-like jocote with its thick, stubby stem.

Bruce and I and our teachers, as well as other "graduating" students. 

Not only have our Spanish language skills improved (still not fluent, by any means), but we've also had an uplifting experience at this school!  Being surrounded by ambitious, cheerful, forward-thinking staff is very pleasant.  The reality of life in Guatemala is that it is extremely difficult, more so for Mayans than for anyone else.  And yet, the Mayan owners and staff at Jabel Tinamit make the most of the opportunities that they are given, make sure to express gratitude for those gifts, work hard to improve their lives and give back to their community - and laugh a lot.  The school radiates an infectious sense of upward mobility.  We are lucky to have crossed paths with all of them for three years in a row!

That evening, back at our home-stay, Ana had prepared a simple but lovely little adios celebration, too.  She had marinated black olives and made a big bowl of guacamole from the avocados in her front yard;  fellow housemate, Juan, a nurse/artist who comes from Luxembourg, contributed some really good bread and cheese, as well as chocolates;  and we contributed white wine, corn chips, and a tiny rum cake that Tiffany & Ross had given to us for Christmas.  Housemate, Elizabeth, a 25 year old from NYC who has come to Pana for 2 years to work for a small American textile company, also joined us.  So we had a little fiesta!  We have so enjoyed Ana's company and her wise reflections on life.

How is Guatemala doing, in general?  We have heard from several people that violence in this country is endemic, especially in Guatemala City, although our world of tourism is relatively sheltered from these realities.  The violence grows worse every year, as gangs and drug cartels gain more and more power.  Government and police corruption continue to be serious issues.  The current president is a former comedian who has been in office for only a year but, during that time, his brother and son have been charged with corruption and are now in jail.  At the same time, health care is shockingly limited to anyone but the wealthy and to foreigners who can pay the price.  It's a burden to bear, the anxiety and the worry, and yet one goes on, trying to make a living and to enjoy the small laughs, the occasions for a happy gathering, the kindnesses of friends and family, the hope for a better future, and the inspiring beauty of art.

Out little fiesta at Ana's house to say good-bye and thanks to her! (Bruce is wearing his parrot mask.)  

Speaking of art, Ana's daughter, Eloin, had her first art exhibit on Saturday.  She has nearly completed her nurse's training and is working in a rural community about 6 hours from Pana.  But art continues to be an interest, too.  So, she hopped on a bus and arrived at Ana's mid-morning in time for us to have a quick chat before we had to leave.   The four pieces that were shown in the exhibit were all fancifully & symbolically-envisioned parts of the body.  Very cool.

                                       Bruce and Eloin

As a treat for us, Bruce had booked a weekend at Casa del Mundo on Lake Atitlan.  It had been over five years since we had been there, but it had remained a wonderful memory and we were looking forward to relaxing in its beautiful embrace.

We were not disappointed!  What a labor of love this place is.   Over the past twenty years, the American/Guatemalan owners built the basic infrastructure of stonework paths and walks, little patios and sitting areas tucked here and there, beautiful gardens everywhere, pretty decor in the rooms using Mayan textiles and carved wooden furniture.  Their palette was an incredibly steep piece of land, accessible only by boat or a narrow dirt path.  What they have created is a magical shangri-la sort of place, with a view of the lake and the volcanoes that is stunning!  To add icing to the cake, these folks use sustainable practices:  lots of recycling bins everywhere; solar-heated hot water for showers that were the best ever; not a scrap of styrofoam anywhere!  Ahh, my little heart sang!  (This is certainly not the case in other places in Guate, where plastic bags, especially, are a scourge on the environment, as in so many other places in the world.)

              Casa del Mundo's gorgeous views from one of its little patios.  

We did nothing for the whole weekend except read and nap and gaze on the lake - and eat great food.  www.lacasadelmundo.com.  Evening meals are served family style by candlelight.  This practice offers a great way to meet other travelers and share stories:  the Danish couple, our age, who know Central America quite well; the two young American women, former college roommates who now teach kids at an eco-camp in Connecticut; the American woman who lives in Madison, Wisconsin, with her Guatemalan husband and two little boys;  the Korean-American doctor here on a medical mission; the young woman from Toronto, alone on her first trip to Guatemala and her first vacation in three years.  We ate and chatted and then retreated to our quiet sanctuary overlooking the lake.  At night, the stars sparkled overhead while the lights of the Mayan villages twinkled around the lakeside.  We'll remember this enchanting scene for a long time.   

                                     Our breakfast nook. 

Monday morning came all too soon, and we boarded the launch for our ride back to Pana.  On the way, we met a young American film and television writer who lives on the lake with his wife and small son.  It's pretty interesting to encounter a variety of people doing creative things in a relatively remote area like this.  He loves his life here and hopes to be able to stay long-term.   After our 3 hour shuttle ride from Pana, we arrived in Antigua - which is where we are now.  

A launch like the one that took us for the 20 minute ride back & forth to Casa del Mundo.  

Last evening we attended a free concert here in Antigua, outdoors on the plaza of a 16th c. church ruins, next to the Spanish Cultural Center.  Chairs were set up facing the temporary stage.  Colored lights turned the ancient church facade from red to blue to gold.  The headless saints in the niches of the church, looking down on this scene, seemed so incongruous with the most discordant "jazz" music that I've ever heard.  However, we were reminded that Antigua is a pretty sophisticated city.  These musicians were a trio from Munich, who had arrived that day by way of Paris and Mexico City!  Maybe the music was more appropriate than I had at first thought, what with all of the tensions in this society. 

This is the concert venue, the day after.  Imagine these dignified, headless saints looking down on the action, bathed in rotating colors.  New & old.   

Tomorrow we leave Antigua and return to our fancy hotel in Guatemala City for one night, prior to leaving for the next phase of our adventure.  Part of our reason for wanting to go to the Barcelo is to be able to host our Safe Passage boys at the swimming pool there.  That experience will be my next post :).  Stay tuned.