Market of Terror

It all started off promising enough. The sun was shining. Yay! Carina and I just stepped on to the main street of Panajachel and the chicken bus was right there waiting for us, raring to whisk us away to the fabulous wonders of the world's largest Mayan market. The road to Chichitenango was a climb up and away from the relative warmth of lake Atitlan. I managed to get our window up for a while but the driver's speedy hammering over potholes shook it down again.

I approached that market with deep dread. It didn't help that I'd read a few excerpts from Carina's guide book warning travellers away from the picturesque traditional graveyard and one other spot as vistors have been robbed by gunpoint too often to ignore and sometimes murdered. We were also warned to watch out for pickpockets. I was way ahead of them on that one.

I tried to keep my paranoia to himself. I was there, as a self-appointed escort, to enjoy the company of my new friend, not to whine and spoil the fun. In we went.


Not too bad at first but, after visiting the cathedral, it became just about impossible to move. I tried to keep within half an inch of Carina but somehow old women managed to push us apart and I thought "Here we go again." My claustrophobia was taking over. I had to remind myself I wasn't carrying anything I couldn't afford to lose. All of the important stuff was locked in a safe back in Panajachel. Still, I kept a sharp eye on everything and everyone, particularly Carina, her bag and the pushy old ladies.




The same kid who had been trying to sell me weed and whores in Panachel was there hawking post cards. He started getting nasty. "I'm sick and tired of these stingy fucking tourists, man."

"Yeah, well, I'm one of them." He and his buddy had flat out asked me for money when I refused their help the day before.

It was "How about something for us? We're broke."

I see him every day now and he's been getting progressively nasty, a creepy little hurdle I have to pass every time I walk the street. But more on him later.

There was such an air of desperation at the world's biggest Mayan market. I didn't belong. This was somebody else's hell. Pointless capitalism in the raw. Outside of the real section of the market, offering food and household goods, everyone competed for the attention of the tourists. No local would be there to buy their jewelry and art objects.

It was interesting alright. So many sights I will never forget, so many deformities, so much diseased skin, so much poverty. Nothing I would have dared to point my camera at. The rough looking dude in the cowboy hat wasn't winking. He only had one eye.

In the end, nothing bad happened. I have Carina to thank for an interesting day that I would never have enjoyed without meeting her. It was an adventure from start to finish. No regrets.