After hooking up with our friend Jon Kaplan, we delayed our departure for Todos Santos a day to take a trip into Panajachel and San Cristobal. Jon, for those of you who don't know him, is a world class photographer of indigenous peoples whom we met in Bali in 1993. He and his partner, Flayanna, Muzzy and I drove around the volcano through fields of coffee plants, shade grown, and into Pana where we picked up an old friend of Jon's, an older woman named Sarah, who has lived in Guatemala since she was 6. What a character! She conducts textile tours for tourists and is herself a weaver. She also makes patchwork quilts which she sells in Antigua, Pana and the US. She hitched a ride with us out to San Cristobal where she introduced us to some weaver friends. Of course I had to buy a huipil and although I didn't buy a traditional San Cristobal one, I did buy one that her friend's daughter made for herself. Its glorious, as are most of the textiles here. At any rate, Sarah bore a striking resemblance to my good friend Cathryn.
We left for Todos Santos the next morning. Hooking up with the Interamerican highway, Mexico and Seattle to the north, Hondorus to the south, we sped north up into the Cuchmatanes mountains, the highest mountain range in Central America. The road took turns at being smooth and speedy and then reverted to its original patchwork of disrepair, sudden ruptures, and ubiquitious speed bumps. It is, after all, an area of earthquakes, volcanoes, and landslides. Passing through villages of adobe huts, herds of sheep and dry, high desert landscapes, we reached Huehuetanango, rumpled, dusty, shaken up and hungry. Jon stopped at the new shopping mall (!) and we ate at the McDonald's! Muz hasn't been in a McDonald's in 25 years and though we were skeptical, Jon assured us we wouldn't regret it. I was grateful for the clean, nearly fully equipped bathroom. Jon was a little unsure of the turn-off for Todos Santos, but since he was here 4 years ago there is a nice big sign indicating the direction. That was also where the "highway" ended. From there on it was dirt and gravel, hairpin turns, chicken buses and trucks coming the other direction on a one-lane road, sheer drop-offs to the side. At the over 10,000 foot mark, we passed through flat mountain meadows, dry, barren, littered with volcanic rock and sectioned off fences of agave plants, complete with 25 foot blooms. It looked like another planet. Then we descended into the valley of Todos Santos, 8800 feet up.
The Hotelito Todos Santos was our home for 2 frigid nights. Our first room was at street level behind a barred barrier to the 8 foot wide cobblestoned street. Very much like a small dungeon cell, the blankets stayed damp all night and we slept in everything we owned. We were awakened to the sounds of a boom-box and the whine of a carpenter's power plane as the carpenteria was only 8 1/2 feet away from our door. We made our way out to Katy's Comedor...now don't get excited. This is the way it works. There are no noticeable places to eat in Todos Santos. Katy's was a small adobe hut with a half door. You walk to the door, poke your head inside and yell "Hola! Comedor?" And somewhere in the back a light comes on and either Katy, and ancient woman in traditional huipil and dark indigo skirt comes to the front, or one of the children comes forward and opens the door. You go to the woodstove area in back and Katy tells you what she can offer...usually beans, rice and eggs. That's breakfast. Dinner is either chicken fried, chicken pipian, or one night carne asado, beans, rice and/or eggs. Yes. Oh...and blue corn tortillas, LOTS of blue corn tortillas, more than you could ever eat...which could or could not be a good thing. By the way...a good rule of thumb is not to eat any meat when you travel...unless you are staying at the Posada, of course.
Todos Santos....this is probably the most traditional village in Guatemala. The men all, and I do mean ALL, still wear traditional "traje" which means costume. Exceedingly colorful it consists of red and white stripped pants, thin blue and red stripped shirt with a handwoven elaborately ornamental collar, and a small straw hat with blue band studded with silver. The older men also add a black wool sort of chap-like garment over the top of the pants, open in front and hanging to the knees in back with a small stripe of blue cloth sewn to the bottom edge. We will post a photo soon. Most of the pants are custom made, the men are the tailors. The young men add their own style by making the pants quite baggy, ala US style. All of the fabric is handwoven. The women wear an indigo corte (skirt) with a lighter blue stripe and an elaborate woven huipil, in blues and purples, their hair in long braids down the back with ribbons woven in them, tied together at the bottom. Its quite something to see the whole town turned out on market day like a flock of exotic birds.
End Part 1
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