Feria!

Every little town in Guatemala has it's own town fair once a year: Feria.  But in true Guatemalan style, although Feria is a single day - the celebration starts 3 or more weeks ahead, and continues for at least 8 days afterward.  The preceding three weeks are a build-up: of vendors, of musicians, of food and of general partying and mayhem.

The Feria celebration is a mixed thing.  The music is pretty good - lots of marimba bands and other live performances.  The food is great; cheap Guatemalan tostadas and lots of Feria cookies (they look like bagels, but apparently they're like biscotti).  The school bands kick into high gear and can be heard at all hours.  Of course, so can the fire-crackers and the bomb-like things they set off in lieu of actual fireworks. 

The music incites dancing - which generally I think of as a good thing, but in this case some of it made me sad.  What I came to see, that others had warned me about, is that Feria is also an excuse for the indigenous to get rip-roaring drunk, and much like in Canada - there's nothing pretty about that.  Watching old men and ancient women dancing the awkward weave and wobble of the pitifully inebriated is heart-breaking.  Worse to watch young girls and their mothers try to drag home their dad, who is long past time to go home - and he is too drunk to leave.  The first night that was all I saw.  I didn't hang out that long in the village . . . I just wandered through, saw the lights, watched the few dancers and headed home. 

Fortunately, the night I actually went out for the evening and hung-out on the dance floor, I also saw young couples enjoying the music, enjoying each other.  I saw folks of all ages dancing, sharing the floor, sharing laughs . . . . I even got a picture of some adorable little girls, hanging out under the stage. That was on "Ocho Dia" . . .the 8th day.  As I said, Feria has a three week lead up and then at least an 8 day follow up, known simply as "Ocho Dias" (8 days).  On Ocho Dia I was hanging out by the stage, watching the conga player, dancing with my friends, listening to the children scream on the Ferris wheel, and watching the community dance.

Eight days earlier, on Feria Day, I had finally wandered up for a bit to get a better look at what was going on, and then settled in to see what was going to happen under the big-top.  I couldn't tell if the band was just ending or about to begin.  As I was trying to figure it out, I found myself in a staring contest with a most lovely Garafuna (Afro-Latin) man.  When he patted the speaker he was sitting on and invited me over, I discovered that he was a conga player in the marimba band that had been playing all weekend . . . waiting for the next band to begin.  I also discovered that he didn't speak any English - so my Spanish, highly under-developed for three and a half months, suddenly got an incredible workout. Turns out I had learned far more than I realized all that time - taking it in, even though I wasn't using it.  In my last two weeks in Guatemala I spoke far more Spanish than in my prior three months. Jeshua turned out to be an amazing Spanish teacher. 

So Feria was a memorable experience for me in many ways.  I saw another side (several actually) of the local people, I met a lovely man, and I finally got my Spanish jump-started . . .enabling me in my last weeks in San Marcos to finally have some long-overdue real conversations with several of the locals who I had wanted to connect with.