... 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.
