Dos Iglesias y Un Cementerio

A couple weeks ago, we went to see the oldest church in Central America (though after looking into it, I've found a couple others that claim that title). Built in 1524, it has two names, the Hermitage of the Conception and the Hermitage of the Conquerors. Recently, a bank in Guatemala put together a list of the seven wonders of the country, and this church took second place.

Last week, we went to see "the most colorful church in Central America" (how they've come to decide that, I don't know) in San Andres Xecul. Most churches here, while the facades are often ornate like the one in the Central Park in Xela, are not painted or exuberantly colorful. The church in this place, though, is brightly painted according to the colors used in the indigenous women's dress from this area. Each region of the country has distinct traditional dress with distinct color schemes, so the colors you see on this church are representative of the colors from this region.

Up a little ways from this church is a smaller chapel, also brightly painted. They were decorating it for Semana Santa, and the greens on the outside are part of that. The three yellowish things hanging around the doorway that at first look like corn are bundles of very fragrant flowers. They were all over the inside, and it was a pretty heady scent to be standing in. The boy on the left of the church in this picture was ringing the bell at the top left of the church incessantly. They were apparently calling people to the procession they were having on Friday, but since we were there on Tuesday, I'm not really sure what it was for. A grown man took over for a bit, so it wasn't just a game, like we had originally assumed. The sun was setting behind the mountain, which gave this picture a pretty cool glow, I think.

Looking down from that church onto the rest of the city. You can see in the middle a bright yellow spot which is the other big church.

Next to the smaller church was a small dirt patch with three crosses and some ashes. The indigenous people here, while largely Catholic, still practice Mayan rituals here.

It was interesting to see a place of traditional ritual that not only has symbols of Christianity on-site, but is also right next to the church. It reminded me of the Mayan crosses we saw in Mexico last year. They were all over the countryside and stood out because they were painted bright turquoise. When the Spanish came over and forcibly converted the indigenous population, the Mayans melded Christian worship with their traditional practices by painting the crosses that color and painting ears of corn, a big part of Mayan spirituality, on the beams. This place is another example of the effort to reconcile the two traditions.

Anywhere we go, we attract attention as obviously foreign, but this trip, we took this trolley to the church, and stood out even more. The school had reserved it for us (I'm not sure why), and it was quite possibly the most touristy thing I've done since being here. There was a bell on the back that clanged everywhere we went, it beeped when in reverse, and the driver blew the whistle more than a few times. All the locals laughed at us as we passed, so if nothing else, we were at least entertainment.

Last week I also went to the big cemetery in town. It's really close to my house, and I've heard so much about it that I'm surprised I hadn't been before. It was amazing! It goes on and on, and you could spend hours wandering around it. It may be one of my new favorite places in the city. Unlike cemeteries in the States, it is colorfully painted and almost entirely made up of huge and opulent mausoleums. In most cemeteries I've been in, there are a few mausoleums, but not like these and not so many. The whole front section is just giant monuments.

On the left when you first enter, is Vanushka's grave. There are differing stories about her, but the most popular goes like this: Vanushka was a gypsy whose family arrived in Xela from Europe. She fell in love with a young man from one of Xela's wealthiest and most powerful families, but because she was a gypsy, his family did not approve, and heartbroken, she died at 17. The other story I've heard is that she died at 45 of hepatitis, but the dates on the tomb say 17, and the first story is more intriguing, so I'm going with that one. People come and write requests to her on the side. If she grants their wish, they come back and leave a flower. Someone will mysteriously come in at night and repaint the tomb. You might be able to see it on the left curve where the layers of paint have been chipped away. It's a great place to practice the subjunctive, the verb tense used for requests or possibilities.

As you walk through the cemetery, a lot of the marble statues have been partially dismantled. People will come in at night and steal heads, limbs, or whatever will come off and sell them as scrap marble. In this picture you can see several headless, armless statues.

However, no one messes with the Angel of Death. This one isn't even missing a toe. They're pretty superstitious about it, and I saw several perfectly intact examples throughout the cemetery.

There are rows and rows like this.

This section is full of Germans. During the beginning of the nineteenth century, a lot of Germans came over and bought up huge swaths of land, and many fincas are still owned by their descendants or still bear their names. This spot, though, holds some more recent arrivals. Apparently, several Nazis came here after WWII to escape prosecution, and these may be some of their graves.

If you walk far enough into the cemetery, you pass through the more opulent graves to the smaller, more simple ones. More simple relative to the earlier mausoleums, anyway. The one in the middle of this picture seemed to be decorated with bathroom tile, and it wasn't the only one like that we saw.

This picture doesn't do the view justice, but from up in this section you could see down into the main section and it looks like a miniature, colorful city. I love how bright, colorful, and celebratory the cemetery is.

More of the smaller area.

This is the grave of a former Guatemalan president, Manuel Estrada Cabrera. He was president from 1898 to 1920, and during that time, United Fruit Company became a major force in the country. UFC is often cited as a big player in the reasons for the civil war, and his role in bringing them such influence is less than appreciated here. There were several revolts during his presidency and he was finally forced out of power by the military, citing mental incompetence. He also is remembered for having a strange fascination with the cult of Minerva, and he built several Grecian temples throughout the country. There is a big one that clearly serves no purpose at the edge of a big market in Xela. Hence the shape of his grave. There used to be several busts of him around the edges, but they've all been stolen, and people still come here and leave mean graffiti on his grave. Most presidents are buried in the capital, but they didn't want him when he died, so he's here.