The Patron Saint of Smoking and Drinking

... or something like that.

Last Sunday, we took a boat across the lake to meet this particular deity.

Before we found him, though, we stumbled through the pouring rain into a massive political rally, replete with an ear- (and mind-) splitting band, and then a church service bursting at the seams (and competing for souls with the politicians), all the while having to fjord overflowing streets-- we had to keep to the middle of the road to keep from being washed away by the white-water rapids cascading down the steep embankments (only a slight exaggeration-- it was rather apocalyptic).

We then hopped in a tuk-tuk to escape the rain and find el señor-- a deity revered in the Maya highlands who has been incorporated into the local Christian tradition. Each year one family gets the honor of looking after his wooden effigy, which mostly consists of keeping his cigar lit and his belly full of the good stuff. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived, he had already gone to sleep (or just passed out) on the rafters above, where he apparently is taken every afternoon to sober up for the next day. We left our bottle of the local firewater on a table next to all the other offerings, snapped a few pictures, and headed back to our hotel. By then, fortunately, the rain had stopped, and the gods were presumably on our side.

How We Met Tu Madre

We recently caught a between the 2 largest cities in this Central American republic. During the game we learned lots of new words and phrases appropriate for excoriating and emasculating any future adversaries, most of which ended with "puta." At one point the crowd was chanting in unison and the band kicked in with a supporting beat. When we asked afterwards what they were saying, it was loosely translated as "Kill the referee by means of strangulation."

San Phang Ghan

... where the maxim, "One cannot drink, smoke, and watch The Big Lebowski all one's life" is proven wrong.

Some can dabble in this lifestyle, sure, like the young Europeans sporting wispy beards and or eyebrow piercings, and especially the Israelis, where it's almost a necessary remedy for the hyperstress of manning checkpoints or making secret forays into Lebanon or Syria. It's the older ones-- namely the ones, like us, who are "Older than Jesus"-- that we worry about. They seem a bit world-weary, astray, undone, almost as if hiding out in this twilight zone, this red-lit cornocopia of shoestring travel, where the divide between Asia and the Americas is blurred right down to the curry, can go on and on in a kind-of existentialist Groundhog Day.

Which, incidentally, we haven't seen yet, but are sure we soon will.

Then & Now

"Our coming is beneficial... because we bring tidings of the true God and Christian religion, sent by the pope... and the King of Spain, so that you may become Christians peacefully, of your own free will, but should you refuse the peace we offer, then the death and destruction that will follow will be entirely of your own account."

-- Gonzalo de Alvarado, 1525


"You're either with us or against us."

-- Jorge W. Bush, 2001

Those Charming Conquistadors

Herna´n Corte´s, 3 years after conquering the Aztecs, travelled into Central America with Moctezuma's successor Cuauhte´mec, all the while having him tortured with oil and the burning of his feet in hopes that he would reveal additional hordes of gold. When Corte´s discovered that the Aztec king had urged the Chontal Maya to kill the Spaniards, he had Cuauhte´mec thrown in prison. On the 3rd day, he was baptized, after which his head was cut off and nailed to a ceiba tree.

... and Those Quirky "Continuadores"

- 440 villages destroyed

- 1,000,000 displaced persons

- 200,000 refugees in other countries

- 100,000 political murders since 1954

That was the year, you may recall, when the US played a major role in ending 10 years of democracy.

These facts relate to the civil war which was still lingering in 1985. There may well have been more since then, but you get the point.

(Editor's note-- These, and the rest of today´s tidbits are courtesy of Ronald Wright's 1985 book, Time Among the Maya)

Eating Your Heart Out

"Fight Song" of the Kaibiles, or Guatemalan Special Forces. Get out the ol' Spanish-English if need be:

¿Que´ come un Kaibil? ¡CARNE!

¿Que´classe de carne? ¡HUMANA!

¿Que clase de carne humana? ¡COMUNISTA!

¿Que´ come un Kaibil? ¡SANGRE!

¿Que´classe de carne? ¡HUMANA!

¿Que clase de carne humana? ¡COMUNISTA!


While one could argue that this was just a case of "boys being boys," there are accounts of special forces recruits drinking the blood of torture victims as an initiation rite, as well as one soldier dining on fresh human heart, and another on presumably fresh human liver. Pass the fava beans... and the chianti.

The Ballad of Te´cun Oman

For I do not wish to turn Christian
Nor to be baptized
And I would rather die
Than renounce my faith
Tell this to Don Pedro de Alvarado...
Oh! Wake, my country, wake,
And from your volcanos hurl fire
Burn and destry the conqueror
Who came to put us in chains...

--Te´cun Oman, Maya king, shortly before being slain by Señor de Alvarado, after which Alvarado and his men raped and impregnated his daughters.

Tricky Dicks

Ricardo Nixon, Vice-Presidente de Los Estados Unidos, circa 1954:

"This is the first instance in history when a Communist government has been replaced by a free one. The whole world is waiting to see which does the better job."

This after a CIA-supported coup had overthrown a legally-elected government, and the new military dictator had been flown into the capital in the US ambassador´s private plane.

Pricking Pricks

In a related note, the ancient Maya kings used to honor the gods by sacrificing droplets of their own blood. This included jabbing their members with stingray spines.

Eddie the Eagle Has Landed

We have alighted, officially kicking off our "sabbatical" in a former Spanish colonial capital. Arrived late, and pretty much went straight to bed, but were awoken several times in the early morn by what we at first assumed to be vigorous lovemaking (but turned out to be the spin cycle of a washing machine). Whatever the cause, we have moved up to a nicer room on the third floor with a great view of the city.

Lots of crumbling cathedrals around-- while impressive, we can't help but be reminded of all the slaughter that took place in their names, so enter with decidedly mixed feelings. Less vexed about the market, right near our "posada," where we took in the sights/sounds/smells and hustle/bustle this morning (along with a mild case of claustrophobia).

So we´re off to more remote parts tomorrow, where we will set up shop for 3-4 weeks and try to make some headway on our español. Then it's onto the northwest hills for a festival that centers around drunken horseracing. Wee Willie Shoemaker, eat your heart out.

Hasta La Vista, Babies!

Well, we've done it--- to mix a couple metaphors, the heat in the kitchen was getting a little hot, so we've flown the coop. We can't tell you our exact location, but we can tell you that:

1. It is south of the border.

2. It is in a country that was raped, ravaged, slaughtered, and pillaged by the Spanish.

3. It experienced the same (in a subtler form) at the hands of the US under the name of the "Monroe Doctrine," the "Roosevelt Corollary," and the "Cold War Hysteria" of the 1950s, when the US was actively/covertly involved in trying to overthrow the government.

That should narrow it down a bit (¿!?).