Weaving by Hand

Handmade, through the work of countless hours, Rwandan baskets are so much more than just utilitarian. Yes, they can store any of a number of food items, and have traditionally been used in exactly that way (as well as in wedding ceremonies and as decorative items). But, with the diversity of color, shape, pattern, and size, each basket is truly a work of art.

Traditionally made from sisal fibers extracted from the leaves of the agave plant, which are then dyed to the desired color, it takes several days for a single basket to be woven (typically by a woman) to completion, depending on the size. Some are large enough to hold a grown man, others small enough to hang on a Christmas tree.

Wide and flat or tall and cone-lidded, these baskets are the definition of precision. The patterns range from basic zigzag to spiral to blossoms sprouting from the base. Even in handicraft centers where their only purpose is to be peddled to tourists, you can see the expert work and immense time and dedication given to each item.

Contrasting Colors

Though teeming with tourists, Antigua is one of Guatemala’s more picturesque towns. Once a grand capital of Spanish colonialism in Central America, today Antigua’s restored glory mostly benefits the tourism sector and the tourists it serves.

That being said, it is a wonderful place to while away a day or two, and hunker down under a blanket or two at night. Ringed with volcanoes, crisscrossed with cobblestone streets, and smattered with churches and cathedrals, Antigua is brimming with photo opportunities and steeped in history.

Massive ruins of once great churches destroyed by earthquakes punctuate Antigua, a glimpse into the Spaniards’ reasoning behind abandoning the city and moving the capital to modern-day Guatemala City. Ruins rest alongside newer cathedrals, past and present hand in hand.

Throughout the city, local indigenous Mayans in native dress, colorful and hand-woven, pedal goods to tourists. Baskets effortlessly balanced atop their heads, they offer everything from fruit to jewelry, stopping here and there in the shade to rest.

And, as in many towns across the world, the real commerce takes place not in stores, shops, or through street vendors, but in the local market. A sweaty, hectic labyrinth, aisles of the market weave and intersect, leading one onward. From shoes, live chickens, and fake flowers to shampoo, produce, or raw meat, all necessities are available at a price. Hawkers call out their wares, voices mingling repetitive calls like so many birds.

The market sits in stark contrast to Antigua’s artesian market, with its wide, clean aisles of stall upon stall of similar goods. The artesian market is a place of tranquility, a sudden silence, shut off from the chaos of the market next door. Souvenirs and trinkets in vibrant hues are pushed at tourists, t-shirts and purses, hammocks and toys.

It is this that strikes me most about Antigua: its contradictory natures coexisting side by side. It is Burger King in a colonial-style building, an ancient church facade in front of a modern structure. The old and the new mingle. The genuine and the artificial mix. In Antigua, the modern dress and the indigenous garb walk down the same streets, harmonizing beautifully. 

Coasting

With only a few short days left in our Sri Lanka adventure, we started to wander up the coast. The goal was a leisurely journey, as we were no more than three hours from Colombo.

First, we went to Bentota. Unfortunately for us budget-conscious travelers, sometime between the printing of our mysterious bootleg Lonely Planet and our arrival on the island, Bentota decided that it was some sort of luxury resort town. We told a tuk-tuk driver than we were looking for something cheap. He repeatedly took us to places that wanted $25 a night or higher, insisting the whole time that many tourists come, pay 5,000 rupees, 10,000 rupees a night ($50-100), beautiful on beach. He couldn’t understand that it wasn’t a personal insult to Bentota or his family, just a budget issue.

Eventually, we got back on a bus heading toward Galle and hopped off in the town of Amblanagoda, where a tuk-tuk driver immediately took us to a big, rambling guesthouse overlooking the ocean. We took the first room they showed us, huge with a oceanview balcony and a roomy mosquito net, only 1,800 rupees per night. Downstairs, a wedding reception was winding down, so we were invited to have a free buffet lunch (we’re pretty sure they were just hoping we would burst into flames because of the spice) and hop into family portraits.

Amblanagoda is famous for its carved masks, both theatrical and for folk medicine, so we made the rounds of the mask museums in town. The masks ranged from simple affairs in vibrant colors, representing various ailments, to massive carved garudas and cobras meant for blessings and luck, to even bigger, more elaborate king masks. Hand carved from balsa wood, and then delicately painted, the construction process was done assembly-line style, each artisan with a niche.

The beach at Amblanagoda was lovely to stroll, but hazardous (okay, probably fatal) if you were looking to swim. Even at low tide, the sand was a narrow strip, frequently interrupted by natural rock walls and fallen palm trees. Not surprisingly, the beach saw very few visitors, making it less-than-ideal if you were looking to open a resort. However, the seclusion and solitude caused us to spend the rest of our Sri Lanka days lounging in Amblanagoda. 

Old World Splendor

The old city of Galle, located on the southern coast and the final World Heritage Site on our itinerary, is a neighborhood surrounded by massive fortress walls. Elsewhere along Sri Lanka's southern coast, the vacant shells of former homes, piles of cinderblock rubble, stand ghostly tribute to the havoc wreaked by the tsunami. But, in Galle’s old quarter, colonial-style buildings, all shutters, archways, and balconeys covered with flowering vines, flank the streets.The fortification, serving little modern protective purpose, actually saved the old quarter from damage during the devastating 2004 tsunami.

A meandering gridwork of cafes, guesthouses, and giftshops, Galle is also graced with walk-able fortress walls. We walked the majority of the walls, perched high above the crashing waves, taking to the streets whenever construction prevented passage. A beautiful vantage point for watching the sunset over the ocean, the fortress walls seemed popular with tourists and locals alike.

Wandering through the local Antiques Museum, we witnessed local men hand carving gems, something done by machine these days. But Galle strives to keep alive traditional handicrafts. We were lucky enough to see an elderly woman making lace by hand, sun-wrinkled fingers flicking bobbins over and under each other, a craft that is quickly fading away as the older generation disappears in Galle.

Full of textiles, antiques, tea houses and beautiful ocean views, Galle was a lovely place to waste several days roaming, looking for local knickknacks or napping the day away.

Exploring Ella

Surrounded by tea plantations, waterfalls, and mountainous countryside, the quaint town of Ella is a quiet place to spend a couple of days. We took the train from Hatton to Ella, climbing over and under mountains, clacking our way between tea plantations. Mountains layered in various shades of green-blue, it was picturesque as a postcard.

After overexerting myself at Adam’s Peak, I knew I had shot a hole in the plan to walk around Ella. Walking in stiff, awkward limps, the first day I did little more than get an Ayurvedic massage and read a book. The massage helped less than I had hoped, but the steam bath and herbal sauna helped warm the perpetual misty Hill Country chill from my bones.

Win was doing better than I was, so on the second day I pushed myself and we climbed what has been dubbed as Little Adam’s Peak. We passed through several small villages full of life and energy, cheering and rallying as they watched their local teens play sports.

Where the trail split from the main road, a local artisan was selling jewelry made by his wife. Instead of stones, beads, or gems, the necklaces and bracelets were made from the seeds of the trees in the area. He claimed that the seeds were also ground into powder to make medicines. Lovely in blue-grays to slate white and ashy black, the seeds had been strung together as simple string necklaces. He was even kind enough to tell us the best way to get to the top, which involved taking a path instead of the stairs (hallelujah!).

Four or five kilometers roundtrip, it didn’t kill me. The view from the top was all the more impressive for the fact that there wasn’t anyone else around. We stopped on our way back to purchase some seed jewelry and watch the volleyball game in progress. We arrived back just as the evening rain and fog was rolling in, just in time to rescue our dry laundry.

Markets of Thailand: Chatuchak

Bangkok’s Chatuchak Weekend Market is, hands down, one of the most eclectic places we’ve seen in our travels. A jumble of food stands, tourists, animals, thais, and merchants, as well as a park and a mall, comprise the majority of this marketplace behemoth. Covering over 35 acres and containing thousands of vendor stalls, Chatuchak is not only Thailand’s largest market, but also the largest open-air market in the world.

Chatuchak is where I finally stopped making Win argue over all the prices and learned to do it myself. A maze of sois (small streets) and roads, Chatuchak is a bargain hunter paradise. Haggling is standard, and this is a great place to practice your negotiation skills. And, as we have discovered, knowing Thai numbers is the best tool to have when it comes to not getting ripped off. I might not be the best bargainer (I don’t have the will to walk away from something I really like), but I’ve certainly improved.

Hidden in the middle of the labyrinth of stalls is a section that resembles a pet store. Here you can buy 

puppies, kittens, birds, or bunnies. And the pets are only outnumbered by the vast selection of dog attire. The Thais are very big on the tiny dog trend. This is also where we nearly bought a $10 squirrel, stopped only by the logistics of transporting a squirrel. They also have hedgehogs, sugar gliders, and various other animals for sale, as well as supposedly being the center of black market for endangered and rare animals.

Everything from clothes and shoes to raw meat and fruits is available at the market. There is a separate fish and aquarium section, where you can get beta, koi, or frogs in all sizes and colors. Trinkets abound --- jewelry, knockoff antiques, candles, incense, windchimes, toys, art --- you name it, someone’s probably selling it. 

A bubble-blowing machine? Sure. Thai silk? It’s everywhere. Looking for a dragon made out of rope? It’s yours. In the mood for an over-priced draught beer while avoiding the mid-day sun? They serve those in the furniture store. Cheap dress? No problem. Bag of crickets? Whatever floats your boat.

Inevitably we end up turned around and disoriented, roaming through the hot tunnels under the protection of the various overlapped tarps, but we typically find something worthwhile. And if not something worthwhile, we still always find something.

Markets of Thailand: The Weekend Walking Street

Once upon a time in Thailand, it was decided that there should be a fair every week, complete with food stalls, trinkets, useful items at discount prices, and maybe even a concert. Also, in order for this fair to run smoothly, a minimum of three blocks must be cordoned off for pedestrian use only. And every town in Thailand must have one of these walking street night markets (as they are so elegantly named). Based on our experience, I’m pretty sure this is Thai law.

Thanks to the existence of night markets, I not only have acquired lots of useless (read: adorable) junk, but I’ve managed to buff up the parts of my wardrobe that fall within our uniform. Skirts in gray, purple, and red, as well as tee-shirts that look nearly professional (Thais are much smaller than us Americans) were a must for this term. Clearly necessary, as I already have a goofy styrofoam/yarn giraffe, were a cartoon dog to hold my toothbrush, an ashtray shaped like a turtle, a mug with a frog perched on the handle, and earrings shaped like various desserts.

Also thanks to the night markets, I have eaten ostrich, deer, and alligator (crocodile?), as well as numerous other varieties of meat-on-a-stick. Pork buns, fried quail eggs, pad thai, corn with butter and sugar, super sweet fruit shakes, and (if you so desire) the creepy sea version of meat-on-a-stick, whole squid. Dumplings, spring rolls, milk tea, waffles full of raisins, chocolate, or taro, roti pancakes with egg and banana. By definition it’s a smorgasbord.

Plants, clothes, shoes. Hair pins, purses, straightening irons. Helmets, keychains, crocs shaped like dragon claws, sunglasses. Oh, and of course, Thai line dancing (I say line, but it goes in a circle). Inevitably, we will eat on the cheap, but still spend too much. And on Monday morning, we get at least one “Teacher, I see you, walking street.”