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By Scott Stoll
Date: April 8, 2005
Antigua, Guatemala is a quaint town with cobble stone streets and
a Catholic cathedral within spitting distance in every direction.
Three volcanoes surround the valley. I spent a good portion of day
and night on the roof of my hotel watching Fuego erupt every 15
minutes. (See photos.) It is one of the most beautiful and peaceful
towns in Central America; nonetheless, I had more than my share
of misadventures.
For two months, 3 or 4 days a week, the Guatemalans were parading
around the city, generally getting in the way of me and my huevos
rancheros. 80 men bore a giant float on their shoulders, and atop
the float a sculpture of Christ bore his cross. I was reminded of
my recent visit to Jerusalem and having retraced Jesus' steps along
the Via Dolorosa (Way of Suffering). The Guatamalens made beautiful
pictures in the street out of colored sawdust, flowers and fruit,
which get trampled in the parade.
The parades built in intensity until Easter weekend when the population
of my tranquil town swelled from 25,000 to 500,000 (creating a shortage
of huevos rancheros and Gallo Cerveza). It is supposedly the biggest
Easter celebration in the world. The most interesting day was Good
Friday when, after two months of bearing his cross, Christ finally
died. The churches had dozens of floats, each depicting in gruesome
detail Christ's last supper, suffering, crucifixion, death and burial.
(In Jerusalem I also visited Christ's tomb.) The men changed from
their vibrant purple robes to black sheets and hoods like the Klu
Klux Klan. There was so much incense and smoke it was hard to see
or breathe. I asked several men if they thought it was morbid and
frightening and wouldn't they rather focus on the positive aspects
of Christ's love and friendship. They said I had to wait until Sunday
when Jesus is resurrected.
The Catholic woman also tote images of Mary as if she were God.
Do you ever wonder what kind of mother Mary was? I think it went
something like this: "Jesus if I've told you once, I've told
you a million times. Don't come in the house with dirty feet. Now
go outside and wash yourself off. And don't let me catch you making
the neighbor kids wash your feet again, or I'll have your father
take you out to the woodshop and give you a good beating. So help
me God, you won't walk for a week. Don't look at me like that. I
don't need your pity. Now you get out there-- Jesus don't run in
the house and don't--" SLAM! "-- slam the door. 36 hours
of labor and this is all the thanks I get. I swear, someday I'll
nail that kid to the floor myself."
Well, Sunday was a lot more inspiring seeing Jesus in flowing white
robes and surrounded by legions of angels, but the parades were
disappointing because most revelers went home on Saturday and weren't
resurrected from their hangovers in time to celebrate their "new
life".After 32 hours on the bus wishing for my bicycle, I transferred
myself to Mexico City. Considering it is supposed to be one of the
largest and the most polluted city in the world, like smoking two
packs of cigarettes a day, it is not a bad place, certainly a lot
better than Delhi or Cairo. It helps that my Spanish has improved
to the point where I don't accidentally refer to woman as "a
little fat" or tell men "I love you" when I mean
"I want it".
I am currently writing a manuscript of my death-defying misadventures.
If you or any of your friends would like news of when I get published,
please send me the email addresses. Meanwhile, I have got myself
stuck in Mexico, so after I finish my rough draft I will be taking
a burro (donkey) to Florida for my lil' sister's wedding. And then...
I suppose... I will have to get a "new life" too.
Click
here to read more about Scott and Dennis' Tour du Monde.
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