It’s almost time for us to go home, and it’s come too soon.
On my last day of Spanish school our field trip was to the village of Jocotenango, where my teacher and Doí±a Rosa live and where there’s a museum of Maya musical instruments and clothing: Centro Cultural La Azotea.
The young woman who gave me a tour of the museum spoke no English but, since I was her only audience, explained things so slowly, clearly and expressively that I understood almost every word, which was a surprise and a thrill. Not only was she enlightening, but she gave me hope that I’m not a total lingustic bonehead. I comprehended more from her in half an hour than I did in twenty-five from my teacher.
She showed me a precursor to the marimba (Guatemala’s national instrument, the earliest of which were made from branches, wooden slats and gourds) and a variety of flutes and guitars. In another room was a shrine to the cigar-smoking, alcohol-swigging Saint Maximon, protector of the Maya and a guy I can identify with. See the armadillo hanging up above?
We also learned about the coffee production process.
We took the chicken bus home. My teacher assured me I’d be safe, which I was, no thanks to her; from the moment I stepped on to the bus until we were safely off, she pretended not to know me.
Check out the name in the window of the bus on the left.
The bus depot is adjacent to the mercado where, it turns out, my teacher happened to have an errand. This time we wound up in front of a counter on which rested a hollowed-out slab of meat which, I soon discerned, was a boneless pig’s head. Its snout was aimed at the shoppers while its eyeballs were hidden on the underside. Apparently there’s a traditional pig’s head dish that locals make and I wondered aloud, “Do you also eat the pig’s mind?”
My teacher bought some fly-peppered ground pork and, after searching the market for some unflavored gelatin, we walked back to school.
Its being the last day and all, my teacher and I decided to quit a little early. M continued till 1:00 as usual. Friederike tracked us down and asked us to lunch but we didn’t have time, so we decided to meet for dinner tonight.
M and I wandered around saying goodbye to the town and buying presents for friends (Nim Po’t had great stuff and the prices were okay and we didn’t have to bargain).
I wish we could be here tomorrow night, to see what they do with those illuminated signs on the top of the arco [photo below] and the Palacio del Ayuntamiento.
After dinner (I finally had the traditional pepií¡n, which was delicious), we went to bid a sad adios to the illuminated parque central.
This time we steered clear of boys with shoeshine kits and caught a cab home — by coincidence, the driver was Don Alfredo, the guy who drove us home last week. He even remembered our address.
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