A rich weaving tradition is at the heart of enduring communities in the western highlands, where each town has a distinctive fashion. Story and Photography by Betsy Sheldon Miguel, Victor, and Anna introduce themselves as I enter the pedestrian street leading to Chichicastenango’s famous marketplace. The adolescent entrepreneurs promise authentic woven goods. Guaranteed handmade. The best price in the market. In a whirl of color, they sweep before me scarlet throws with embroidered birds and celestial symbols, intricately patterned tablecloths, and multi-striped bags, belts, and headbands sporting tiny worry dolls.
Miguel, Victor, and Anna find me again. They’ve interpreted my assent to, "Maybe later" as, "You promised to buy." I relent and purchase a sizzling red wall hanging, a set of six placemats, and a big multicolored bag. I’ve pleased my young friends—and myself, for that matter. All this for less than $30! Guatemala is a sensory experience. Especially on market days, where the clamor of Spanish, English, and Maya dialects drifts through pathways choked with merchants and buyers. Scents both pleasant and pungent mingle from the flower stalls and food markets. Explosions of color lure shoppers to tempting merchandise—from woodcarved fantastical masks to perfect mangos. More than anything, though, it’s the textile traditions that pack a tactile and visual wallop to a tour of Guatemala’s western highlands, where market towns promise a shopping bonanza, not to mention insights on Maya-Spanish culture and a photographer’s dream as colorful photo ops present themselves at every turn. Antigua Antigua is the base for visitors exploring the region (most visitors who fly into Guatemala City get out of town as fast as the congested traffic allows). From here, villages such as Chichi, and Panajachel and Santiago on the shores of Lake Atitlan, make manageable day trips.
Yet, most importantly, Antigua serves as an introduction to the region’s rich craft traditions—the textile pervades all. Just take a peek inside Hotel Posada El Antano. Hand-embroidered huipiles (blouses), blankets, and rugs grace the brightly painted adobe walls. Sitting areas are richly decorated with wall hangings and pillows in dazzling weaves. A block away on 5a Avenida Norte is Nim Po’t Centro de Textiles Tradicionales. On the walls of this airy warehouse of a shop are examples of regional attire: The faded red-striped pants of Todos Santos and the black-and-white of San Antonio Aguas Calientes. The bright colors of Panajachel, the subtle stripes of San Antonio Palopo, and the embroidered bold red of San Marcos. Nim Po’t is the spot to get your bearings before indulging in the fun of bargaining. Expect to run into plenty of street vendors along 5a Avenida Norte—especially on the pedestrian stretch near Arco Santa Catarina. Women wrapped in their village trajes (costumes) serve as walking advertisements for their wares. Within their bundles, they may unfurl huipiles or press upon passersby bags of miniature worry dolls. Another spot for vendors is the Parque Centrale, a shady central square with benches and fountains surrounded by historic buildings, shops, and cozy restaurants. I pick an empty park bench to rest, when a young mother, her infant wrapped in a colorful sling, approaches with a selection of change purses. I’m captivated by the baby, her tiny head covered on this warm day with a brightly patterned cap, surely knitted by her mother. The woman and I haggle back and forth and eventually come to terms: For $5, I get five purses (great office gifts!) and two pictures of the child. When not shopping in Antigua, walks through the city streets and neighborhoods turn up dozens of architectural attractions. La Merced, the canary-yellow cathedral at the end of 5a Avenida Norte, is striking, but the crumbling convent behind its imposing doors is more intriguing still. Its massive fountain is said to be the largest in Central America. Stairs lead to wraparound rooftop views of the city and surrounding volcanoes. Another standout is Hotel Casa Santo Domingo. The sprawling property rests on the ruins of a 17th-century Dominican convent. Underground crypts with bones still entombed, fountains, altars, and a museum with religious art and statues from the 1600s are tucked into its landscaped grounds. Panajachel
Pana’s main drag, Calle Santander, is lined with stalls and shops selling the ubiquitous clothing, bags, belts, and tablecloths. Every day is market day in Pana. After a vegetarian lunch and some Crosby, Stills, and Nash tunes at the Bombay Cafe, I wander to the lake. An old woman waves her scarves before me. I shake my head, no, but she’s not having it. She wraps the scarf in my hair in a fashion similar to hers. I give up, and buy the scarf in my hair, along with two others—for the change from my meal. Santiago From Panajachel, tourists take boat excursions to other waterfront villages. Those who
arrive at Santiago may wish they could slip back on the ferry and escape the children who
But diehards who brave the persistent sales pitches will be rewarded after an uphill hike through streets flanked with souvenir stalls. Atop the hill, an authentic market experience wraps around in a horseshoe before a scarred, white church. Here, the merchants seem oblivious to the few tourists who struggle through throngs of locals carefully selecting avocados, mangos, and chiles. Here, women haggle over chickens and men shoulder heavy burlap bags of dried beans. Here, no English is heard-nor anything that sounds like Spanish. From the steps that lead to the church, the sea of people spilling through the market is awash in purple hues—reflecting the distinct traje of Santiago. The journey back to the boat is a short one. Closer to the dock, the throng of street vendors thickens. A woman proffers a bunch of tiny bananas. She’s wearing the traditional Santiago headdress—a saucer-like covering made of tightly wound red ribbon. I purchase the bananas at what I suspect is an inflated rate. But it’s worth it: I get a great picture of this pleasant-faced woman, the bananas are some of the sweetest I’ve ever tasted, and, despite the fact that I’m overloaded with placemats, wall hangings, table runners, bags, and scarves, I’ve got plenty of quetzals left. Guatemala is a travel value in every sense. Good To Know Good Food. Panza verde, the nickname for Antiguenos, means "green belly" and refers to the abundance of avocados in the region. Take advantage! Guatemalan cooking is celebrated at Antigua’s three Fonda de la Calle Real restaurants. Menu highlights are grilled meats (Bill Clinton’s choice when he visited, says the waiter). Try chicken or vegetables with pepian, a savory sauce of chiles, pumpkin seed, and some secret ingredients. Cak’iq is a soup with turkey and tomato. Revolcado is pork stew. Fried plantains are a standard side dish. In Antigua and Panajachel, both with expat populations, plenty of restaurants offer world cuisine. Good weather. The western highland region enjoys cooler mountain temperatures in an otherwise intensely hot and humid country. Those who visit in March avoid the rainy season and experience summertime temps. Expect chilly evenings, though. Good attire. Guatemala’s residents are rarely seen in shorts, short skirts, or sleeveless shirts. Such attire is tolerated among tourists, but the visitor may feel more comfortable sticking to long pants or skirts. Good walking shoes are a must—Guatemala’s treasures are best discovered on foot. Good cents. The quetzal exchanges at approximately 8 to the dollar at press time. Plan to pay in quetzals with most street vendors and marketplace merchants. Proper shops in Antigua—and even Chichi and Pana—will likely accept credit cards. Good advice. Though hotels that cater to tourists usually offer treated water, sticking to bottled water for drinking and brushing teeth is wise. Avoid iced drinks. In cities or villages alike, avoid walking in deserted areas at night. Take common-sense precautions against crime. Bring sunscreen and insect repellent. Good word. Spanish is the official language. But as many as 21 Maya dialects are spoken. In places that cater to tourists, you’re unlikely to run across a language problem. Good buzz. Electric currency and plugs are the same as in the United States. Bring your hair dryer and shaver without concern. Good buys. Did we mention textiles? Colorfully painted masks, bags of tiny worry dolls, woodcarvings—not to mention jade and coffee—are other items to consider.
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The trio persists through the chaos of crowded streets-finally departing after a hopeful,
"Maybe later?" I continue through the crush of vendors to Santo Tomas church. The steps,
veiled in a cloud of incense, are jam-packed with devotees who leave flowers, burning candles,
and offerings. At the entrance, a nursing mother offers to reveal the secrets of the Maya
worship rituals here. Inside the cavernous sanctuary, worshipers bow silently, some strewing
flower petals around clusters of candles on the floor.
But Antigua draws travelers in its own right: Surrounded by three volcanoes, the city is
littered with the remains of convents and cathedrals leveled in an earthquake that decimated
the former capital in 1773. Its Spanish language schools attract students from around the
world who come to immerse themselves in Espanol.
The town of Panajachel, a few hours from Antigua, doesn’t offer much in the way of Guatemalan
history, culture, or sightseeing. It’s similar to other hippie-fied enclaves, with foreign
invasions from vegan restaurants to Thai massage schools. What sets it apart is a waterfront
location on lovely Lake Atitlan, where views and moods are dictated by the changing skies—one
minute blue and serene, a half-hour later brooding and gray.
swarm the docks, asking visitors to write their names on a piece of cardboard. (Their scheme
is to present a quickly knitted custom pen-holder to be sold as passengers return to their
boats.) Santiago appears a disappointment at first.