San Marcos

The small village of San Marcos circles around a central square. A full sized, often used basketball court is usually bustling with kids of all ages playing basketball, dancing, practicing music, or just ‘hanging out’ as young people do everywhere.

Numerous tiendas (grocery stores) each vying for customers stock relatively similar products. The church, sometimes lined with rows on chairs is situated across the narrow road. I have never seen services taking place in the church, although there are often meetings going on. Since I don’t speak even a word of katchikal (the native Mayan language) I have no idea of what the meetings are about. My North American biases led me, at first, to assume, that they are meetings for AA.

Two restaurants in the centre feed hungry travellers vegetarian fare and also fried chicken. Of course both restaurants serve rice and beans, the typical side dishes for everything.

Make shift stalls offer fresh fruit and vegetables. Young children and women of al ages saunter up and down the roads selling simple crafts. Homemade woven cloths, freshly baked cookies and natural chocolate with all flavours are our favourites.

I am sitting in the centre, waiting for my little friend, Eric. He’s meeting me here at 12:00 (it’s now 12:20) to introduce me to his mom. I’ve invited Eric to come with us on our excursion tomorrow to climb Volcano San Pedro. I came to make sure Eric’s mother approves. Before leaving my home, I made sure to practise the words I would need in Spanish. Invitar (to invite), escular (to climb), cena (dinner). My Spanish is definitely improving but I still am frustrated when my ignorance of vocabulary keeps from connecting to Spanish speaking people. I am finding more and more, though, that I am able to get around.

 

The circle is a bit quiet this afternoon. I can smell the smoke that looms from within the village mountain where the Mayan community lives. Cooking, heating, burning daily garbage are all excuses for fires. Ceremonies abound too, and fire is an important part of the ritual.

I feel good being a part of this community. Here I am learning Spanish, taking massage classes, visiting friends, and just living.  Every once in a while I feel the desire to go out on adventures and see other parts of Guatemala. There are so many small, interesting to places to go. And, still,  often, I just want to be here, comfortable in familiarity and embraced by what and who I know.