CHICHICASTENANGO AND DIRTY COPS

Without those pesky child labor laws in my way down here I got these kids working for me for just about nothing

11-5-6
I am settled into Antigua, checked into a hotel right off the main plaza and a few blocks from my school I start tomorrow. My plan for the day was ride to the famous open air market in Chichicastenango or Chichi as it is called by the gringos who can’t get their mouth around the name of the town.
I stopped by the main plaza to pull some money out of the a.t.m. and was amazed at how many motorcycles were in the square today, Sunday must be the international bike touring day. I met quite a few riders form all over, most coming from Guatemala City on a day ride, and one Brit who was on journeys similar to mine. Several riders on Harleys few on B.M.W’s and quite a few various café racers, most of the local bikers are very wealthy, as bikes over 125cc are extremely expensive down here, as much as 25% higher than in the States. Bikers seem to have the same friendly disposition no matter where you are. Upon noticing my Colorado plate several groups gathered around me to find out who I was. They were all very interested in my bike and my story. It was hard to break away and get on the road, I was invited to ride with several groups but none were going in my intended direction. I did promise to meet one group next week, they said they have some really good off road stuff to show me.

I was about half way to Chichi enjoying the twisting mountain roads that surprisingly were in great shape. The sun had finally made an appearance for the first time in over a week. As I rounded a curve there were a group of police waving over vehicles. I pulled over and one of the cops approached me, he was very friendly asking about my bike and where I was from. I handed him my license and paperwork for my vehicle and he inspected my documents. He came back to me saying my paperwork was not in order, which knew was not true. The cop still very pleasant told me I would have to pay a $100 dollar fine. I asked him to explain to me what was not in order and he just kept on telling me there were problems. I have heard a lot of stories from other people in similar situations. My friend Dana told me if it ever happens call their bluff, refuse to pay it and tell them to go ahead and arrest you. I decided although reluctantly to play it out. I told the cop to arrest me and we could figure it out at the police station, than I held my breath waiting for his response. I was hoping he couldn’t see my knees shaking. He looked me up and down smiling and said how about $50, now I knew I had him. I responded how about nothing. He stopped smiling and handed me back my documents and told me I could go. I asked him if I could take a picture of him for my blog and he told me absolutely not, so I jumped on my bike and headed towards Chichi. Thanks Dana I owe you one!

The Market in Chichi was very interesting. Vibrantly colored textiles drape the booths creating the maze that I soon found myself lost in. The booths were packed so close together I soon lost all bearings and just wandered around the maze with no idea of my whereabouts. I passed down an endless number of multicolored corridors that seemed to never end. There were aisles of all sorts of fabrics, grains, nuts, fruits and veggies, walls of masks, bags, pottery, jade carvings, flutes, drums, cages of birds all sorts of goods.
The vendors are indigenous Mayans dressed in brilliantly colored clothes. As you pass the vendors they thrust their goods out at you and start in on a feverish sales pitch, Heated negotiations are taking place all around it was fun to sit back and watch the malay, If you showed any interest at all in their wares they would follow you around trying to coerce you into a sale, no is not accepted they just keep on plugging, they put the goods into your hands or drape them around your body in an effort to close the deal. Even a smile or eye contact with one of the vendors would result in a sales attack that would surpass any telemarketer I’ve ever encountered. I was half expecting some of them to try to get me to switch my long distance carrier or try to sell me a timeshare.
The Meat market was just down right scary, sides of beef and pork and other various beasts hung in the open air on hooks. The organs were displayed in front of the carcasses. Live turkeys and chickens were packed in small cages awaiting their fate making a huge commotion. Butchered chickens were put out on tables with not even an attempt to cool them down. I could go on but won’t. As you pass through the meat market it brings you into the food court, for some reason I had lost my appetite. The sound of the rhythmic pounding coming from the ladies making tortillas was almost musical. There must have been 50 women just pounding out dough and another 50 cooking them on hot griddles. After a couple of hours in the market I had seen enough, now if only I could find my way out and remember where I had parked my bike!
I finally found my way back to my bike and headed back over the 9000 foot pass to my new home in Antigua. Seeing it’s a school night and I should be in bed I will end my rambling.