It's never going to be easy to gather the energy to start this blog, so I may as well do so now. I've been in the town of Parramos in Guatemala since July 4th as a Princeton in Latin America fellow. Of course, I should subtract the 6 weeks that I've been away in the US for interviews. I just got back from the last batch of interviews on Dec. 23rd, which was a few days later than planned due to all of the snowstorm-related delays in the Northeast. That gave me the chance to actually spend a couple more restful days at home after getting the interviews out of the way, getting a chance to see some old friends.
At least the flight that I was offered in place of my canceled one got me to Guatemala in a total of 8 hours and included a first class seat. That definitely beats the overnight layover that I had on my initial flight. Having never flown first class before, I was definitely amazed at all of the luxury it had to offer, asking the flight attendant offering me a drink on my way in, "How much will that cost?" "In first class, you will never have to pay for anything, sir..." Really... that must mean that the TV in front of me is free to use. AND I won't get charged for food??? [Shock] Well I guess airlines have to offer some "gifts" in exchange for the extravagant sums that some of the poor souls actually paid for their tickets. Still, Delta managed to lose the luggage about about 20 people on the flight. (My second bag still hasn't arrived. The delivery companies in Guatemala are just a bit unreliable.)
Since I got here on Dec. 23rd, I have had the opportunity to soak up the tremendous Christmas celebrations. Here in Parramos, the festivities begin around Dec. 15th and continue until the new year. They are significantly more pronounced than in the rest of Guatemala since Parramos also holds its patron saint celebrations on the weekend before the New Year. (Every town in Guatemala has a patron saint(s) for which celebrations are held once a year. From what I have observed, they are every bit as important as any other major holiday in every town.
On Christmas Eve (Noche Buena) I visited Antigua with my host family of 5. (Antigua is the upscale town about 30 minutes away that has become quite touristy. My host father, Don Mario, lived there for a significant portion of his life, but he quickly realized that when the property values began skyrocketing, it was better to rent the home than to actually live in it.) My host family customarily visits Nativity scenes at various churches in Antigua on Christmas Eve, so I went along, especially given how seriously my host family takes this annual tradition. At no point did I at all feel threatened from a religious perspective as a non-Christian. Don Mario is well aware of my religious differences and tries to learn more whenever he can about my beliefs, which is quite progressive for this area. As a good host, he appreciates the opportunity to show me elements of the culture here with which I am not familiar. Overall, it really helps me to understand the Guatemalan people, which only adds to this experience.
Upon returning from Antigua, I remembered that there was a custom that I had heard of earlier to visit homes on Christmas Eve. (This stems from the story of how Joseph and Mary sought a place to stay the night before Christ was born.) Each family prepares tamales and punch for visitors. My host mother, Doña Ofelia, had been busily preparing tamales all day, including vegetarian ones for me. (At times, I really feel bad how far out of her way she goes to prepare me food that I can eat.) Made of a dough prepared from corn flour, covered with a tomato sauce, and wrapped in the leaves from a cork husk, the tamales are traditionally eaten for other meals on Christmas Eve as well.
Doña Berta, one of the people in town that hosts volunteers from the Peace Corps, had invited me to come over about a month ago on Christmas Eve. Realizing how seriously Guatemalans take the acceptance of gifts, I knew I had better go. (I had learned about a month into my stay that I should accept anything offered to me in Guatemala when my neighbor, Don Carlos, offered me an orange in front of Don Mario. Not thinking twice, I said no because I wasn't hungry. Don Carlos was completely thrown off, holding out the orange for a few seconds before taking it back. Don Mario had to teach me then that when people offer things here, they feel bad when their gifts aren't accepted. Lesson learned. Next time, I'll just "save it for later.")
After visiting her, we went to the other side of town--to visit Doña Ofelia's cousin around 10pm. Really, this is late for the town. For Parramos, which usually becomes completely silent around 9pm, that's incredibly late. However, the entire town stays up well past midnight on that day. Inside Doña Ofelia's cousin's home with Don Carlos' family as well--also related to them, everyone is related somehow--we all sat around talking for a bit. Then, just before midnight, everyone goes outside. Not really understanding why, I followed them. Right at midnight, half the town was outside lighting all sorts of firecrackers and fireworks in the streets. The sound was deafening, with blasts continuing for at least 20 minutes, nonstop. Some fireworks gave of some pretty terrible odors, but the show had to continue.
I noticed upon returning into the home that the older women had begun crying after midnight. I wasn't exactly sure why at first, most likely because I wasn't accustomed to the holiday having much real significance beyond the consumerism that has now replaced much of the religious context of the day in America. (There's a bit of that in Guatemala, too, but it's not quite as pronounced.) Thinking back to the Nativity scenes that I observed that day, I remembered that all of the baby Jesus statues were coverd with blankets. Don Mario had told me that they would all be uncovered after the 10pm service, or roughly midnight, to commemorate his birth. I suppose that even the thought of the actual event represented by this gesture can have a somewhat striking effect on the highly religious. Midnight before Christmas must be more special to many than midnight before New Year's, but I can't comment on the latter yet.
Afterward, everyone ate (more) tamales and drank champagne. Even the kids--as young as 5-year old Ludwing, Don Carlos' crazy younger son--were encouraged to drink. Ludwing must have had about 2 ounces of champagne before he began slurring his words and appearing a bit more hyperactive than usual. It's shocking to see the differences between thoughts on alcohol between families closely interacting with one another in this town. Don Mario does not drink, and his younger son Hans does not either. I suppose that there are conflictingly strong beliefs on alcohol in many societies. Finally, after no one could stay awake any longer, everyone returned home at around 2:30am, far later than the usual 8pm bedtime for most of my host family. I will be shocked if New Year's Eve holds nearly as much significance to people here.
