To get here from El Remate we take a collectivo with our backpacks chucked on top for the 28 kilometre journey to Santa Elena. Bear in mind these are rather old minibuses, officially holding 14 passengers – our maximum was 26….. it was cosy! We were also glad that we had had a shower, the Guatemalan’s are a very clean sweet smelling nation and we were pleased not to let the “Western” side down! We had noticed shampoo sachets littering the lake shore in their most public of bathrooms. People were all dressed up for the feria today, but more of that later. As travelling companions in our collective we had men in their Guatemalan cowboy stetsons, women in local dress, younger girls in their finery and a few children. Had it not been for us two (comparatively!) huge Westerners, we reckon that the payload could have been up at thirty! Arriving at the bus station we have to transfer into a tuk tuk for the short drive over the causeway into Flores, a small town on an island in the middle of the beautiful lake.
We had planned to come and stay here for the day as, apart from having a charming name, the town was having a feria today. All we knew was that it was the annual festival of the “Christo Negro”, the black Christ, but it sounded interesting so here we were. It has been a great day. We check into the Santana hotel, and (yet again…) treat ourselves to an upgrades lakeview room each (not bad at $50 including 24 hour electricity and hot water, even in the taps in the basin, a real treat…..), dump our backpacks in out room and venture out to see what it was all about – and by the way, for the first time in weeks we officially declared the day a “scorchio” – it was hot, hot, hot!
Flores is a small, ramshackle town set on a small hill. We followed the roads and ended up at the town square for an open air Mass, kids running around, nuns hiding in the shade, people frying foods. The mass went on and on and when the terrible singing started (she would never have got past Simon Cowell….) we decided to go for a walk down to the lakeside. But the heat even got to us so back we pop to the hotel to shed some clothes, get our hats and the suncream – we had forgotten what it was for! Of course by now it’s time for a drink and a spot of lunch overlooking the lake….
But the festival continues all day. The Mass had finally finished so we walk back up to the church to try and get some idea of what was going on. The queue of people stretches out from the black Christ on his cross lying supine in the church aisle surrounded by candles. People go up and give him a kiss and then wipe him down with a bit of cotton wool – still not sure if this was for his annual wash and brush up or to get rid of any loitering swine flu germs from all the kisses…..but he was looking all clean and shiny. But like the Mass it had a lovely atmosphere, not the stern, serious religiousity you would expect, but a joyful atmosphere with kids still running around enjoying their candy floss. By this time of course it was time for a further wend and a shop before our sunset drink….. Down by the lake we catch a group of about 50 locals carrying a saint figure on a palanquin bedecked with flowers and watch them place him carefully on the prow of a small lancha to transport it back to their village on the other side of the lake. Drawn by the idea of a lake trip we hire an 85 year old man to take us for a very peaceful boat ride to look at life around the lake shores, we made slow progress around like lake, the vistas of Flores making it look prettier than the town really was.
The old guys gold teeth sparkled as much as the lake. Back on dry land, we see people making intricate patterns on the road from what looked like coloured sawdust……. But we didn’t quite discover what they were until our peaceful sunset drink was interrupted by a tirade of loud firecrackers. Quickly downing our wine we go out to see – and there was the Black Christ in all his glory being paraded on a huge wooden structure covered in flowers and tinsel, followed by a huge crowd of silent people. He is carried, surprisingly, by a team of women, and as he makes his way slowly forward, he is preceded by a man with a long pole whose job it is to raise all the power and telephone cables that line the street so he doesn’t get caught up. It looked very heavy and swayed from side to side dangerously. He is followed a few yards behind by the ever present Mary resplendent in her flowered cloak. Over the next few hours he is taken through all the streets, the crowd growing every minute, before he is finally returned to the church for another year. During his travels, as night finally descends, the generator that is attached to him by about a 100 metres of electric cable clicks into life and he becomes illuminated – a magical site. And the silence of the crowd is only broken by the deafeningly loud series of firecrackers that go off every time the parade reaches one of the pavement artworks or carpets of flowers that we had noticed earlier - the whole parade stops while the fireworks go off and the proceeds to trample across and ruin all that hard work….
Late in the evening, when he is finally back home, the town explodes into a real fiesta with dancing, music and yet more firecrackers and finally a display of real fireworks – i.e. ones that look nice as well as make a huge amount of noise!
We had had a really interesting day and it was a privilege to be a part of such a festival that has been going on for hundreds of years. We stop by on the way home at the local 7Eleven type store which has the only cash machine for miles and are surprised to have the door politely opened by a machine gun touting guard – yes, we really are back in Guatemala!
