Tzununa
It's a curious thing about Tzununa and San Marcos developing so differently. One interesting fact is that each is under the wing of another municipality. San Marcos falls under Santiago, across the lake, and Tzununa, along with Jaibalito, goes under Santa Cruz, two and one villages to the east, respectively. Besides the fabric colors, the skin tones, and facial shapes, each town is really a different people, going a back a long, long way. It was told to me yesterday in accurate paraphrased summary: "people in San Marcos steal from each other. In Tzununa, and here in Santa Cruz, it's not like that. If there ever is a problem, people take care of it themselves. You get two warnings, then you go in a plastic bag." In the same way Tzununa chose to be a friendly and respectful community, I would say they exercised their right to not actively produce manmade attractions for tourists. Physically, Tzununa is the most stunning valley to enter of all the lake towns and a hike there is just as satisfying or better as any inactive volcano. We have the 'waterfall valley'. It is really something to get off the lancha at four in the afternoon and emerge from the coffee trees to the view open over the futbol field up the gut of the huge valley. At that hour this time of year, the sun hits directly the big mountain face which shines back the golden light source of dried corn onto the village from the east. I've loved mountains all my life but sometimes the magnitude of the behemoth ridge next to Tzununa from the bottom gives me a moment of vertigo.
But the people either don't want to appeal to tourists, they don't have the time or money, or they don't know how. It's proved here at one of the only two hostels in town, where the sign is so small and faded, that when I've mentioned the name, it has never rung a bell with anyone, even those from Tzununa. No one knows there's a decent place to stay here. This family did make four conscious decisions to spend lots of money sending the same number of their children to the United States. It seems like they sent a good amount of money back and told the grandparents to build a hostel, which they did, but then grandparents were lackluster in terms of marketing in the traditional Tzununa style of indifference to gringo business. When it comes to gringoes building or making business here, all that seems to be welcome and encouraged. Most men who find out want to come build for me or be guardian and elder men always seem to take it as good news for the town.
The people are genuinely very kind. They are hard-workers and really good at standard things like construction and stone work, but to my knowledge, and I hope I'm wrong, no specialties come out of Tzununa. The village has two carpenters and no metalworker. The people lead simple lives based around family, work, religion, corn, and buying and selling. It was told to me by a Polish-born long-timer here that "you can never be on the inside. But you won't be on the outside, you'll make friends and be a bit more on the inside." And I realize that. I'll always be gringo and I can't assume at this point that I would have what it takes to learn much Kaqchikel. Here's hoping I'm wrong there, too, but even learning the language doesn't bring you all the way in. It makes sense. My Spanish will always improve and that should continually improve my overall experience.
Considering the people, it adds up to a friendly, hard-working, pretty honest group. Through the years, few enough gringoes have come through parts of Tzununa that one strolling around will inspire some seemingly dumbstruck looks and excited, often scared, children. I can only imagine exactly what they are thinking as they look look on us here in their village. Folks are quick in their replies to buenos dias or buenas tardes, that is, if they don't offer up their own greeting before you. On the way past, a quick 'thchoowok chick', see ya tomorrow in Kaqchikel, will warm their hearts and bring a giggle to any group. Many people, even kids, speak very little Spanish in this area.
The beautiful women of Tzununa and the colors they wear remain a reason that I dig this town. Will I marry a local and have kids here? Not right now, no. Later, I can't say.
It's a curious thing about Tzununa and San Marcos developing so differently. One interesting fact is that each is under the wing of another municipality. San Marcos falls under Santiago, across the lake, and Tzununa, along with Jaibalito, goes under Santa Cruz, two and one villages to the east, respectively. Besides the fabric colors, the skin tones, and facial shapes, each town is really a different people, going a back a long, long way. It was told to me yesterday in accurate paraphrased summary: "people in San Marcos steal from each other. In Tzununa, and here in Santa Cruz, it's not like that. If there ever is a problem, people take care of it themselves. You get two warnings, then you go in a plastic bag." In the same way Tzununa chose to be a friendly and respectful community, I would say they exercised their right to not actively produce manmade attractions for tourists. Physically, Tzununa is the most stunning valley to enter of all the lake towns and a hike there is just as satisfying or better as any inactive volcano. We have the 'waterfall valley'. It is really something to get off the lancha at four in the afternoon and emerge from the coffee trees to the view open over the futbol field up the gut of the huge valley. At that hour this time of year, the sun hits directly the big mountain face which shines back the golden light source of dried corn onto the village from the east. I've loved mountains all my life but sometimes the magnitude of the behemoth ridge next to Tzununa from the bottom gives me a moment of vertigo.
But the people either don't want to appeal to tourists, they don't have the time or money, or they don't know how. It's proved here at one of the only two hostels in town, where the sign is so small and faded, that when I've mentioned the name, it has never rung a bell with anyone, even those from Tzununa. No one knows there's a decent place to stay here. This family did make four conscious decisions to spend lots of money sending the same number of their children to the United States. It seems like they sent a good amount of money back and told the grandparents to build a hostel, which they did, but then grandparents were lackluster in terms of marketing in the traditional Tzununa style of indifference to gringo business. When it comes to gringoes building or making business here, all that seems to be welcome and encouraged. Most men who find out want to come build for me or be guardian and elder men always seem to take it as good news for the town.
The people are genuinely very kind. They are hard-workers and really good at standard things like construction and stone work, but to my knowledge, and I hope I'm wrong, no specialties come out of Tzununa. The village has two carpenters and no metalworker. The people lead simple lives based around family, work, religion, corn, and buying and selling. It was told to me by a Polish-born long-timer here that "you can never be on the inside. But you won't be on the outside, you'll make friends and be a bit more on the inside." And I realize that. I'll always be gringo and I can't assume at this point that I would have what it takes to learn much Kaqchikel. Here's hoping I'm wrong there, too, but even learning the language doesn't bring you all the way in. It makes sense. My Spanish will always improve and that should continually improve my overall experience.
Considering the people, it adds up to a friendly, hard-working, pretty honest group. Through the years, few enough gringoes have come through parts of Tzununa that one strolling around will inspire some seemingly dumbstruck looks and excited, often scared, children. I can only imagine exactly what they are thinking as they look look on us here in their village. Folks are quick in their replies to buenos dias or buenas tardes, that is, if they don't offer up their own greeting before you. On the way past, a quick 'thchoowok chick', see ya tomorrow in Kaqchikel, will warm their hearts and bring a giggle to any group. Many people, even kids, speak very little Spanish in this area.
The beautiful women of Tzununa and the colors they wear remain a reason that I dig this town. Will I marry a local and have kids here? Not right now, no. Later, I can't say.
No comments:
Post a Comment