In this three-part series, guest poster Nora Walsh tells us about her trip to Guatemala. For Nora, Latin America is a place to “enter at your own risk.” But the awards awaiting those who do far outweigh any mishaps they might experience along the way.

Antigua
By Nora Walsh
In 2009, I longed for a trip to Brazil for Christmas and New Year’s. I hoarded all of my vacation days for this trip, until my significant other, who happens to be Argentine, persuaded me to go somewhere other than South America for our holiday. After long, drawn out discussions of who wanted to go where and why, we finally settled on a trip neither of us will ever regret: Guatemala.
Mid-December I crammed my backpack with all the appropriate gear including: lots of layers (it’s 50 degrees at night) an MSR Packtowl UltraLite from EMS, Clifbars, antibacterial hand gel and towelettes and a Gortex raincoat. Then I hopped on a five-hour Spirit flight from La Guardia to Guatemala City. Which leads me to my first tip for travelers, book your airfare early! We spent close to $1,000 each on airfare. Had we booked it before late October (when there was already little space left on any flights), it would have been roughly half the price we paid.
Because I was spending the first week alone, and Guatemala City has the highest homicide rate in all Latin America according the 2007 Crime Observatory, my family was concerned. I reminded them I had traveled alone through South America for a year in some of the continent’s most “dangerous “ cities. During that time I had acquired the street smarts to know where to go, and where not to.
In Transit. When I arrived in Guatemala City, I used an ATM inside the airport (it has a better exchange rate than the currency exchange booths) at an exchange rate of 8 Quetzales-$1.00. Directly outside the airport I caught one of the minivan tourist shuttles to Antigua. I paid 80Q for the hour ride to the old capital.

Chichi
When I tried to withdraw more money from my account in Antigua, I realized that I had forgotten to call my bank and credit card companies ahead of time to let them know about my trip. For security reasons they had cut off my ATM access and line of credit, so I was stranded with only the cash reserves I had packed. I spent a whole morning trying to get it straightened out, which is not how I like to spend any morning, let alone a morning on vacation.
Antigua. Because I was traveling alone, I opted to stay at a hostel (I highly recommend booking online beforehand during high season) so I could meet some travelers and learn the lay of the land. It always helps to meet people who have been traveling around the country for awhile to get some tips on where to go and what to do. I met a solid international mix of backpackers at the Jungle Party Hostel, where I stayed in a freshly built room (they are putting the final touches on it the day I arrived) for $7 per night. The service, food, and $1 drink happy hours were amazing.
Not all hostels are this good. A Swedish girl I bunked with told me she had all of her valuables and passport stolen during a stay at the hostel Ummagumma.
While at Jungle Party I met two American girls from California who were traveling to the renowned market in Chichicastenango (Chichi as it is affectionately known), which only takes place on Thursdays and Sundays, and is one of the largest in Latin America. Because I planned to return to Antigua when my boyfriend arrived, I decided to travel with them and as a bonus catch the Festival de Santo Tomas the following Monday. It turned out that most of the hostel was going as well so we rounded up 11 people and found a shuttle that knocked of a couple dollars from our fare ($7 to $5) since we filled the whole van.

Festival Santo Tomas
Chichicastenango (Chichi). Unfortunately, during our three hour ride to Chichi, the rain slammed down and since driver’s miniature tarp covered about 4 of the 11 bags that were on the roof, the majority of us had bags soaked entirely through. The whole ride I was longing for one of those backpack ponchos so I didn’t have to freeze in soaking wet clothes that remained damp the whole two days we spent there.
The Chichi market was a typical Latin American outdoor market—selling foodstuffs, handbags, medicinal plants, flowers, pottery, textiles, electronics, pigs, chickens, machetes etc. But it was hard to get the full feel of it because of the rain. I did love the Festival de Santo Tomas, a religious festival representing a mix between Mayan and Christian beliefs. On December 21, the Mayans welcome winter and its legendary Christmas messenger: Olentzero, and also honor the apostle Saint Thomas. Located next to the market is the 400-year old church of Santo Tomás, built atop a Pre-Columbian temple platform where K’iche’ Mayan priests still use the church for their rituals, which I was able to witness firsthand.
The town plaza was packed with people and the parade started with “fireworks”, which truly sounded like old fashioned canons one offing fireballs, giving off earth cracking sound. It was a bit startling. This was followed by a colorful parade of enormous flowered floats carried by men and women in vividly embroidered Maya garb. What never ceases to amaze me is the amount of weight indigenous women can balance on their heads; I’ve always wanted to learn how to do this because it seems like such an impressive party trick to pull out after a few drinks.
As excited as I was to be there, I definitely was not feeling the love from the Chichi natives. I wasn’t sure if they were sour because it was raining on their parade or they just generally don’t like tall white North American girls. It was a very bitter reception even after flashing the brightest, warmest holiday smile I could muster, and still, nothing but scowls in return. And God forbid you ever capture a picture that includes a native, and if you do, you better be willing to pay.
When we exited the maze of the market, we stumbled upon a live band with about 200 onlookers. I am never one to stand still when there is music on, so I began to shimmy in place to the music and realized a couple minutes later that about half the crowd was staring at me, and some were even smiling! I thought to myself “I’ll be darned, if this is the only way I can get people to smile in this town I am going to do it!” So I started dancing a little more, which stirred even more attention, including the local TV cameraman and locals snapping cell phone photos. I contemplated the idea of collecting money for my picture, but decided that I was racking up some good photography karma for the remainder of the trip and I had received my 15 minutes of Guatemalan fame, so decided it was a fair exchange.