We’re back at a Spanish language school again, and to give their students’ brains a change from classroom learning, they organize activities where the teachers accompany the students out into the local community to practise Spanish and learn a bit about the local customs. We go along to a craft center in a nearby town to find out about weddings, local costume, and the local cuisine. We set off on a chicken bus from the local bus station. These are ex-US school buses, some of which are repainted, as below, and some of which still say School Bus on the side. They are pretty comfy when empty-ish, and for short distances, but it’s a full-contact sport in the rush hour. Seats are expected to carry at least three passengers, and occasionally the proverbial chicken. I like them, though.
At the village, we visit the craft centre where one of the local women explains how weaving is done. She’s holding work done by a child: they start really young and progress by the age of 14 or 15 to full-on pieces which have patterns on both sides, a local specialty.
She also explains the local marriage customs, which involves much weaving of clothing by the bride. Members of our group were selected to be the bride and groom, and the bride’s parents. I’m the father on account of my advanced age. Here we are wearing the wedding day clothes, complete with sombrero.
After this and a wee bit of dancing (I have pictures, but not here to spare my blushes), we try our hand at making tortillas. This proves easier than we thought, as we’ve tried it in the UK and got into a terrible mess. Diane does particularly well, producing one which is pretty much circular, and proved very edible. Mine was shaped more like the Iberian peninsula, although it still tasted good.
A few days later, and we’re off on a cycling trip to a few local villages with one of the school guides. The roads in and around Antigua are cobbled, which is tough on bikes: there are tracks on Exmoor which are smoother than the roads in the town. After about 20 minutes, it all proves too much for one bike and the crank falls off. Being a bike mechanic of sorts, I recommended hitting it with a big rock, which we did.
Enquiries, though, produced a bike shop not 100 yards away, and he fixes it properly, using a spanner and stuff.
We stop in the main square to admire the tanque, which is the the local water supply and washing facility.
We pass the church of Santa Cruz on the trip back, which passes without incident. This is more or less the first exercise I’ve done in a number of weeks, aside from walking everywhere.
New Year’s eve dawns fair but cold, so we catch a few rays in the square. The Cathedral is on the left, looking towards Volcan Agua.
There’s a full schedule of events from about 4pm onwards, so we fortify ourselves with some food from the shop on the corner near our apartment.
Pausing later for a pizza, there’s a lot of truly ancient bikes outside the restaurant. They look functional, so maybe there’s a large cycling group somewhere.
The fun starts with los gigantes, big giant people, dancing to the marimba.
There are also little tableaux being enacted in music and dance, but about what we know not.
In anticipation of the evening’s fireworks, Volcan Fuego lets off a puff, although to be fair, it does this most days.
After darkness falls, the fireworks begin. This guy is running around in the crowd with a large rack of them strapped to his back. I started cowering not long after this.
The local kids love a firework or a light, like these guys.
So then we bunkered down and waited for midnight. There was an official firework display at about 10pm, and then the local populace just let their own small ones off in the street and in the park until midnight, when they let off their own large ones. Very large ones. The noise was ridiculous, and the park was packed by then, so we didn’t leave until about 12:30. We slept late the following morning, although the bangs didn’t stop for several days. Anyway, bienvenidos 2012, and a Happy New Year to you all.
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