Antigua
First day in Antigua. 4 days left in this beautiful place.
We awoke to find the Posadita sunlit and warm. Barefoot, I tiptoed around to see who was awake. Marcela, la bella de casa, greeted me with a warm, “bieviendos” and offered me “una café con leche?” I politely declined. Quickly looked over the yellow note left for us by our instructor, and went to explore. Everything looked gilded in the early morning sunlight. Our courtyard is dripping with hanging flowers, ferns, impatients, and many other plant species. There is a second floor upon which there is a tremendous view of the courtyard. It is railed with a beautiful iron and wood railing. Just to the left is a spiral staircase leading to the roof. From the roof you can see much of Antigua, and the formidable volcano that watches over the city.
Antigua seems as if it grew up from the ground. Buildings squat and angular as if some geological event pushed them up from the center of the Earth where they had been marinating for centuries. It is a wash of color, fearless, Mother Nature grabbed all the beautiful things from this lush land and painted the buildings of Antigua as homage to herself.
By this time Annie has readied herself for us to venture out into the city. We followed the directions easily and were at the larger hotel. We had eggs, black beans, plantains, cheese, and toast for breakfast. Walking back through the city there is a low murmur that is inescapable. Trailing Spanish conversations fade through the central square. Trees that fade from bright new green to yellow underneath. Tourist babies crying. Sweet marimba, dancing little baby notes. Carved wooden doors with deep resonating knockers. Most are in the shape of lion’s heads, my spirit animal, I find some humor that the lion is the liaison between indoors and out. The cobble stones molding your feet. Yellow, peach, peeling paint. Iron bars incasing a potted spider plant. I wonder if some senora would let me take a little baby spider home and plant it. Funny little 3 wheeled taxis making a racket. Green, verde soft shoots of grasses grow on roofs. Sienna, Orange, sun dried tomato. Catholic iconography. Pink, Mint, cronflower, perrywinkle, cobalt, pistachio. “Necklaces I give you special deal” yellow. All the shops and stores seem secret. No brilliant signs or flashy music. It’s almost as if they’d rather seduce you in.
Annie and I decide it’s time to pick our rooms. We choose room 400, it’s got 2 queen beds, tile floor, and a spiral staircase with a bridge across the center of the room to the loft, and Annie is in the loft. Beyond the loft is a small attic room. Fit for a princess, white and red. I choose the princess room. It seemed the most fitting. The furniture is a 1950’s display of cream and yellow, almost as if it were baked in Betty Crocker’s oven. I have a traditional red embroidered bedspread, not ikat, but woven with 5 stripes of green, blue, white, and yellow. By that time the rest of the class arrives. I’m feeling glad I’ve got the first choice in the rooms. We ate at a small restaurant; I had beans and eggs again because I didn’t know what else to have and a beer to take the edge off. But really all the beer did was make me sleepy.
Then we went to Santa Clara convent to do some color studies. Here is what I wrote about the place:
“An overcast day, thunder rolls in the distance. A gentle breeze cuts the humidity. The sounds and smells of the city are muted behind these walls. A fountain dribbles musically in the center. The walls are crumbling deteriorating showing age and history. You can feel the ghosts here.”
I felt the color project was very good for opening my eyes; I was very surprised to learn that I was drawn to the subtle variations in colors instead of bold and vivid colors. I was really interested in the peach tones of the walls that were peeling off to show blues.
I feel a little lonely.
We awoke to find the Posadita sunlit and warm. Barefoot, I tiptoed around to see who was awake. Marcela, la bella de casa, greeted me with a warm, “bieviendos” and offered me “una café con leche?” I politely declined. Quickly looked over the yellow note left for us by our instructor, and went to explore. Everything looked gilded in the early morning sunlight. Our courtyard is dripping with hanging flowers, ferns, impatients, and many other plant species. There is a second floor upon which there is a tremendous view of the courtyard. It is railed with a beautiful iron and wood railing. Just to the left is a spiral staircase leading to the roof. From the roof you can see much of Antigua, and the formidable volcano that watches over the city.
Antigua seems as if it grew up from the ground. Buildings squat and angular as if some geological event pushed them up from the center of the Earth where they had been marinating for centuries. It is a wash of color, fearless, Mother Nature grabbed all the beautiful things from this lush land and painted the buildings of Antigua as homage to herself.
By this time Annie has readied herself for us to venture out into the city. We followed the directions easily and were at the larger hotel. We had eggs, black beans, plantains, cheese, and toast for breakfast. Walking back through the city there is a low murmur that is inescapable. Trailing Spanish conversations fade through the central square. Trees that fade from bright new green to yellow underneath. Tourist babies crying. Sweet marimba, dancing little baby notes. Carved wooden doors with deep resonating knockers. Most are in the shape of lion’s heads, my spirit animal, I find some humor that the lion is the liaison between indoors and out. The cobble stones molding your feet. Yellow, peach, peeling paint. Iron bars incasing a potted spider plant. I wonder if some senora would let me take a little baby spider home and plant it. Funny little 3 wheeled taxis making a racket. Green, verde soft shoots of grasses grow on roofs. Sienna, Orange, sun dried tomato. Catholic iconography. Pink, Mint, cronflower, perrywinkle, cobalt, pistachio. “Necklaces I give you special deal” yellow. All the shops and stores seem secret. No brilliant signs or flashy music. It’s almost as if they’d rather seduce you in.
Annie and I decide it’s time to pick our rooms. We choose room 400, it’s got 2 queen beds, tile floor, and a spiral staircase with a bridge across the center of the room to the loft, and Annie is in the loft. Beyond the loft is a small attic room. Fit for a princess, white and red. I choose the princess room. It seemed the most fitting. The furniture is a 1950’s display of cream and yellow, almost as if it were baked in Betty Crocker’s oven. I have a traditional red embroidered bedspread, not ikat, but woven with 5 stripes of green, blue, white, and yellow. By that time the rest of the class arrives. I’m feeling glad I’ve got the first choice in the rooms. We ate at a small restaurant; I had beans and eggs again because I didn’t know what else to have and a beer to take the edge off. But really all the beer did was make me sleepy.
Then we went to Santa Clara convent to do some color studies. Here is what I wrote about the place:
“An overcast day, thunder rolls in the distance. A gentle breeze cuts the humidity. The sounds and smells of the city are muted behind these walls. A fountain dribbles musically in the center. The walls are crumbling deteriorating showing age and history. You can feel the ghosts here.”
I felt the color project was very good for opening my eyes; I was very surprised to learn that I was drawn to the subtle variations in colors instead of bold and vivid colors. I was really interested in the peach tones of the walls that were peeling off to show blues.
I feel a little lonely.