Antigua is a bustling colossal colonial city in comparison to San Marcos. Pastel buildings. everyone looks more spanish than maya. have heard almost no kaq’chikel. am staying in black cat hostel, a terribly ´”backpackery” place that constantly plays oasis and fiona apple, drinks on the tab, bros and she-bros hanging in the lobby drinking beers smoking cigarette talking about the chick they hooked up with last night, KiKi from somewhere in Eastern Europe ooh what a Slavic beauty, “i accused her of stealing my toothbrush and she freaked out, man. Not only is that fucked up, it’s fucking gross!” and lots of backpackers that say they want to see the world and have lots of ideals and reasons why they are here but what it all boils down to is that they want to party in guatemala. Last night we attended a drunken oddly european irish bar tequila drinking bar dancing extravaganza and sat in the corner nursing our beers with sad looks on our faces because we didn’t know what to do with all the insanity. I said to Ronan (our irish friend from the organization in san marcos), “If I wanted to go to Europe, I’d go to Europe.”
Kirk is still following Ronan around like a lovesick puppy, and I haven’t the heart to tell him no, really, you’re completely in love and you and ronan are dating. It’s annoying.
Meat market – they just let the chickens hang out on the counter for god knows how long. The market is disturbingly organized (or unorganized, rather) and the sights and smells that encounter you as you wind through the dark cramped building are thus: jesus trinkets, machetes, tools, vegetables, pastries, fruits, spices, raw chicken, eggs, giant slabs of cow hanging from a wire hanger like on a clothes rack, then DIAPERS and BABY SUPPLIES, toilet paper, personal grooming, then finally the giant comedor in the middle where about twenty competing lunch places all share the same room. Almost all are catholic and in the middle of the menus are huge pastel smiling pictures of jesus with accompanying slogans telling you to repent but that jesus loves you and that jesus supports the food you are about to eat. When eating in the comedor you’re cramped into picnic style tables next to all the locals (no tourists dare enter here), and everybody shares chile and salt and everything is dirty and messy and the tables aren’t clean and everybody’s happy and eating and the food is extraordinary and cheap and it’s just a big giant pile of humanity which is why I love guatemala.
XOXOXO
blythe
