December 31st
Lake Atitlàn
Today
is spent exploring several of the villages surrounding the lake. Several Mayan tribes have settled
around the lake, and each town has its own distinctive art and textile
patterns. The villagers wear their
traditional dress (perhaps in response to tourist interest?) and each town can
be distinguished by colors and designs.
It is not unlike the tartans of Scotland, or the subtleties of Breton
headdresses. As the famous
business of Guatemala is the hand-woven textiles, the town squares are lined
with small stalls and workshops.
Women in traditional dress weave on backstrap looms, kneeling as their
foremothers knelt for generations.
Acrylic threads make an occasional jarring appearance, but the old
patterns are honored.
Tonight
being New Year’s Eve, celebrations are everywhere. Fireworks are sold at every little store, and young boys play
at setting them off well before dark.
By 5pm, there is a constant steady background of firecrackers echoing
from the hills. A few louder
explosions may be small arms fire (aimed safely upwards). At about 7pm, we become unable to judge
thanks to the enthusiastic DJ at the hotel bar. The staff rush to set up decorations, spreading pine needles
on the floor and lighting luminaria.
A papier-mache cow covered in fireworks provides a more modern touch.
The
DJ’s music is an intriguing pastiche of disco hits and other songs with a beat
(rhythm occasionally added for effect).
The music often lurches erratically from one song to another – although
one can fade from “Für Elise” to Cher, we question whether one should. (Those of you who followed our
adventures in Nepal last year might recall the Royal Nepal Army Band, another
interesting musical choice for your New Year’s party. Sigh.)
As
midnight approaches, a few people gather around the pool. Noisemakers, whistles, and hats are
passed out. A few minutes before
midnight, we are treated to a sparkling countdown, as we have no access to
Times Square. A path of white
fireworks has been laid out running down the gravel driveway next to the
lawn. Once lit, the fireworks
slowly travel down the drive. They
are very loud, and shoot brilliant white sparks some six feet in the air. Some almost hit the cars parked mere
inches away. One car alarm spends
the next few minutes in a constant frenzy, though it can’t be heard over the
noise. As the path of white light
continues its journey, the staff sets off larger fireworks from the lawn. These are commercial fireworks of the
type seen at major sporting events and July 4th celebrations, but
the infrastructure seems a little different here. A guy casually walks the firework out to a foot-high
launching tube, drops it in, lights the fuse from his cigarette, and casually
walks a safe distance (20 feet) away.
There is a loud bang, followed shortly by the sight of fireworks
exploding directly overhead. Very
closely overhead. A couple of the
starbursts open a bit low, and the edges hit the ground, shooting sparks in the
grass at our feet. We stand out in
the crowd – we are constantly startled by the loud bangs, and we dive for cover
when the fireworks are a bit low.
One of the other guests takes pictures of us, no doubt to share with his
friends as proof of American skittishness. At some point during the display, champagne appears – one
presumes it must be midnight.
As
the fireworks come to a close, we assume the night’s entertainment must be
over. Fortunately, we are
incorrect. You may recall mention
of a cow covered in fireworks?
This turns out to be “El Torito Guatemala”, and he has a big role on New
Year’s. Some hapless gardener
(perhaps the newest hire?) is made to wear the bull on his back, head bowed
underneath. The fireworks are then
lit, and El Torito runs back and forth on the lawn, fire spitting from his
sides and horns for the length of a song.
From time to time, new sections light themselves and the horns shoot sparklers
or the sides turn red. There is a
finale, very bright and very loud, as the song ends. Thus we welcome 2002.
We learn the next day that this is a tradition, but that usually El Torito runs through the town square, charging people. Naturally one plays matador to this flaming toro. Our display was therefore quite tame, the poor guy just ran up and down the lawn about ten times. We also learn that he was given a wet towel over his head and earplugs, so hopefully he is unharmed and able to run another day.