Guatemala
I love border crossings. I’m always fascinated that culture can change so abruptly within a few feet and it always reminds me that in the 21st century we’re all still huddling in armed camps. These transition zones also are often an opportunity to see a country at its worst. Borders grow their own special ecology of lowlife. Traders, thieves, tourists, touts, soldiers and smugglers are all mixed up sitting at the same stools eating road food, talking about the weather and affirming cliches to each other in improvised interlingua.
From laid back Caribbean culture we passed into a place full of cowboy hats, bright woven colors and guns. The gears of my brain’s Spanish machinery were seized from years of neglect. My mind was in full exhaustive learning mode every time someone spoke, jumping and grabbing at half comprehended phrases like an eager but retarded puppy. There’s no African blood in Guatemala, the people are Mayan and Mestizo. The Mestizos live in the cities but the Mayan majority lives in the country. Mayan Women all wear the colorful woven skirt of their village and a blouse with a translucent shawl. Due to working along side the Mestizos for generations, Mayan men now dress like cowboys.
A lot of the country’s money comes from Coffee plantations but there’s not much of a coffee culture in Guatemala, its just an export.
Some pictures of Flores, Guatemala.