Antigua

Sunday morning. The mercado in Xela is not open today, to our surprise. A few people are selling used clothes, but getting through from the collective side to the Chicken Bus side is vastly easier than the day we arrived here! A conductor spies us when we emerge from the mercado, bags in hand.  We're the only gringos in sight, and he helps us to the correct but for Antigua. The buses are not marked, there is no specific place as far as we can tell for each destination to park, but it's simple to find the bus going where you want.  The conductors sing out their destinations i loud voices.  Our bags tossed to the top of a bus, we push our way aboard the already over-filled bus, and pull out in less than 2 minutes. The buses here are the lifeline, the only transport available for the vast majority of people. No one minds the crowds, the loud music or the broken seats. The old school buses seats will comfortably hold two adults, but four or more will squeeze into each one, with babies and other packages on laps. Then the aisles are filled, just when you think it's not possible to put another person on board. The problem is finding a place to put your feet if you are the one standing. The other body parts just go where there is space, bellies and butts smashed into faces and backs of heads.  Stuart and I are the only people tall enough to reach the ceiling hand-holds.  But, there is no worry of getting hurt if you fall; you'll just land across several people!  As we leave the city, a few get off, a few more get on, and I soon get a place for my right cheek on the edge of a seat. Stuart finds a seat eventually, too.  The trip to Antigua is about 3 hours, and we are almost tossed off the bus, handed over the heads of the people, and tossed onto the connecting bus at some crossroads.  I see our bags flying through the air to the top of the next bus.  The people ALL are looking out for the gringos!  I have no worries about making a connection, getting to the correct bus, or being mislead in any way.


We watch in amazement as the conductor works his way through the people in the front half of the bus, collecting money from everyone. The, he fights his way back through the crowd to the front door. He goes out the door...we're driving around mountain curves all this time... and steps on the open front window and climbs to the roof of the bus. Sometime later, he taps me on the shoulder, coming from behind, to collect my bus fare. He's come in the back door of the bus! We see this happen on almost every bus, and can't believe the SpiderMan skills of each conductor, clinging to the roof of a moving bus and coming in safely. I'm also amazed that he can get through the crowds, but every quetzale is important.

Antigua is a smaller city than Xela, and older. It's been destroyed by earthquakes and volcanic eruptions several times over several hundred years, rebuilt each time. After the last big eruption of the volcanos, the government ordered the city to be evacuated, and moved the capitol to Guatemala City. The locals ignored the order to leave, and the lovely old city is now a World Heritage Site. At one time, there were more than 30 cathedrals here, with a few convents attached to some. Most of those old cathedrals are ruins now, some with ornate fronts still standing. This one, pictured at left, is the city's most prized. The arches remain, with the roof open to the blue sky. It was huge, even by today's standards, and the engineering required to build it is remarkable.
Pattern in a sidewalk. Zentangle anyone?

The town is quieter than Xela, less traffic and more pedestrians. There are more tourists here, again, mostly European and South Americans. We spend some time walking, getting a feel for the city, and like what we see. There are lots of restaurants here, because it's a tourist destination. But, the city is not in any way 'ruined' by the tourists, it seems to be proud of it's heritage.









This is the local laundry mat. It's spanish name is tanque. Individual cement basins are fed water from the large pool for rinsing. I don't think it's used for laundry anymore, but the same system exists all over the country. It's a pretty, tranquil park now.

We found a room in The Black Cat Hotel, sister to the Black Cat Hostel. There are a couple of dorm rooms here, but Stuart booked us into one of the three private rooms, with private bath. It's WARM here, and we're both happy. The rooftop garden offers a 360 degree view of the volcanos and church ruins. The music is good, and the people staying here are mostly younger travelers. I'm going to like this town.