The Sololá Fair

The bus is packed, we sit 3 to a seat, shoulder to shoulder, as we wend our way up the mountain.  Entering Sololá, I try to peer out the window, gauging when to get up and head to the door, as we turn down one narrow street after the other, but I'm stuck in the center and it's hard to see. The bus slows, and I catch a glimpse of the park in front of me, so with muttered "permiso" and "perdon", I push my way to the door.

The park is more alive than I've ever seen it.  Families line the walls along the paths, the women dressed in colorful huipiles (emobrodiered shirts), cortes (skirts) and fajas (an emboidered band used as a belt).  Many of the men are also wear traditonal Mayan clothes.  There's a band playing off to one side, so I go and stand on the wall and watch for awhile, then join the crowds to see the rest of the fair.

Stalls have been set up with a narrow alley between them.  Stuffed animals and other prizes hang from the ceilings, reminding me of town fairs in the States, but instead of funnel cakes and pulled pork, here they're selling fried plantains, churros, papaya smoothies, and dozens of sweets I don't recognize.

I finally hit the section of the fair where the rides are.  There's a decent sized ferris wheel and I stop with all the other spectators to stare and decide if I want to ride.  Who knows what's holding it together, but hey, I didn't take the bus here just to watch, so I pay my 5 Q and step on.  As soon as we stomach lurchingly turn in to the air, I question my decision.  The seat is narrow, the bar to hold me in seems so tiny I'm not sure I can trust it, but no one else had fallen out while I was watching...  We spin, faster and higher than I had expected.  There's a soccer field in the distance, the roofs of the houses, the church all decked out for the fair, and off to my right, the volcanoes looming over the lake.  I'm alternately delighted and terrified as we spin madly around, and step off, a little shaken and woozy.

I buy some corn on the cob with lime and salt and head back to the band stands.  There's a different group playing now, but what attracts my attention is not so much the music as the dancers.  They're wearing full face masks, and the frozen expressions coupled with the clash of outlandish costumes (there are Mayan warriors, shoe shiners, and candy sellers among the mix) are so oddly unsettling that I stand transfixed.  I wonder what it's all about- the costumes seem like caricatures to me, as if maybe this is some elaborate story telling telegraphed to the audience just by knowing who the dancers are.

I wander off, looking for something more to eat and settle on some pre-sliced fruit and then a chocolate dipped ice cream cone.  It's louder in the park now- bands are playing from two bandstands at once and the literal battle of the bands is overwhelming me.  The sun has gotten hotter and almost every patch of shade has already been claimed, so once my ice cream cone is done, I get on the next bus and head back down the mountain to Pana.