ChiiiiChiiii(Castenango)

¡Hola! Estoy en Chichicastenango. (for all you non-spanish speakers out there, that means im in a town called ChiChiCastenango)

The ride down here (via bus) was horendous. Down here, bus companies consist of old repainted school buses from the U.S. crammed with people, the tops piled with baskets and bundles of various things, from live chickens to people, no questions asked. You could take a taxi if you wanted to hop in the back of a pick-up truck. The ride up here was so completely insane, it could pass for the scariest ride at Disney. They had full-blown school buses doing hair pin turns on the sides of cliffs! I almost wet myself. Dad was just laughing at how freaked out I was. But I must say, it was a memorable experience, and if you're planning on traveling in Guatemala, I recommend trying it once, just to say that you have.

Here, and throughout Guatemalan cities, there are people and children in the streets, pedding bookmarks, bracelets, and hairwraps (I got one, it's blue) to tourists. Now when most Americans think of street peddlers, they immediately think they're poor-- however, I learned today that most street peddlers arent poor, they have a home to go back to and a family to support them. When two shoe-shining boys came up to us begging for money, they looked all dirty and i felt bad, so i gave them a Quetzale, which they immediately spent at the nearby video arcade. So, what you see is not always what you get.

I am enchanted by the way that so many women here continue to wear Mayan traditional clothing, even though the rest of their lives have modernized and industrialized. I saw at least three women talking on cell-phones while wearig traditional Maya clothing. No matter how hard the world tries to push them into business suits, they hold onto their ancestors, which I love.

Tomorrow, in Chichicastenango is the big market day, where tons of people come in by the busload to sell and buy. I've heard the streets will be jam-packed. I am so excited!

After the market, around noon, Dad and I are taking another "chicken bus" to an indiginous, poverty-stricken village called Nebaj, in the north, so I don't know if I'll have internet access, but upon my return to Antigua, I'll be sure to post my many tales to tell.

I will leave you all with this thought: when you hear Justin Beiber blaring through the streets of more than one Guatemalan town, you know something is blatently wrong.¡Hasta luego!