Antigua.

Earlier on, the village we passed at the top of the assent out of Lake Atitlan, had a section filled with colorful plastered boxes. Were they houses? Turquoise, pink, green, yellows. But they are so small; ah, a house of shorts, but for the dead. A cemetery of mosuleums I decided. The suspicion was enhanced upon passing a shop, open to the air as most of the shops were, with shiny silver coffins. Oddly morose, at least to a person with Western eyes, bright and shining death. Perhaps gladly, joyfully morose? Is that so strange in a country that celebrates the day of the dead, ancestors and the past. Just to a person from the land of the present and future, when the past is only brought up at religious functions, and the occasional holiday.

So that brings me to today. Mom woke me and I lay in bed debating whether to get up. Do I sleep, have a relaxing lazy morning. Waste time the way I wanted without anyone to look on? Or should I have an experience. See the way other people live and worship, in a way not so different than my own (same religion.) I got up, not wanting to waste my life.

We walked from the blue house- connected to other colored houses. They look so plain from the front- but are so busy within. Down the street to find a tuck-tuck, trying to balance in slightly loose and worn clog sandals on also worn and uneven cobblestone. Squished into the tuck tuck, bump, bump and speed along- even closer quarters than the tourist shuttle. At least I am in the middle, no end of a screw stabbing my thigh, I wonder if Dad is okay, because he is on that side. The meeting house is also seemingly plain, but inside high arched cathedral and wood beamed ceilings. Later a member, Francisco Sagastume, explains that they wouldn’t have let them build the usual Mormon chapel in Antigua. He has a rotund figure and face, jolly mustache smile, a creased forehead.

That was after the meeting, before the meeting pews are barely half full, greeted with Buenos Dias, handshakes, and smiles. The meeting starts with Nearer My God to Thee in spanish. Hum along. More and more people file in and when sacrament is passed the meeting house is full with young couples, some old, and many, many babies and children. Testimonies- I heard hermonos, hermanas, then crying, joyful squeals, and heartfelt bearings of spirit- all of which are slightly lost to me as they all compete for my attention.

Lunch at Tartines- carrot soup, chicken with paresly and wonderful crunchy onions, salad, a few fries. Tartines overlooks a ruin, grey, and black and some red brick with grey mortar, tan grasses grow from the broken pillars, and green down below with occational tourists.

The rest of the day is spent inside, lazy, sore throat, tired, but not resting. Playing games on DS and Nokia device. Success was had.

Feel slightly feverish, but maybe it is just my sunburnt face. So sleepy. Goodnight.