Guatemala-Capital a Xela-2006: An anachronism

My travel adventures start in Jan. 2007. However, I thought I'd throw in some thoughts from my "warm-up trip" to Guatemala in Feb. 2006.

Hola from guatemala!
The poster I saw said "Guatemala....nature´s way of exaggerating." I´m in complete agreement. Incredibly high-looking cone shaped volcanoes, deep barrancas, and lush vegetation.
I took the bus from the capital to Quetzaltenango, winding our way up and down the curvy narrow road through precipitous mountains and lush deep valleys. A variety of indigenous folks sat down next to me in the bus, for one mile or ten, getting on at some indiscriminate spot and getting off at an equally unmeritorious wide spot in the road. The trip was accompanied by marvelously old American 60´s and 70's music, country and rock, played at maximum volume on the bus´ loudspeaker system.
The Indian women who got on board all wore huapiles, their traditional Mayan dress: beautifully colored and colorful skirts, brightly colored blouses, and frequently some sort of cloth on top of their heads. One of them had a child in her lap; another in a shawl (parreje) around her neck. I smiled at one woman´s infant (the mother looked about 15), and she proudly told me she had two more at home.
Regardless of gender, all of my indigenous seatmates had one thing in common: a strong odor. Martin Prechtel in his book The Secrets of the Talking Jaguar, describes this unique smell as follows:
"Wherever there are highland Maya people, a delicious, melancholy smell permeates the air. Carried on the backs of hardwood smoke, the perfumes of flowers, fruit, and roasting tortillas are spiced with the fragrance of pine needles."
My description would be: a mixture of body odor, smoke from open cooking fires, and chicken. The odor was not toally offensive, but having just stepped off the plane from the antiseptic US,. I found it quite overwhelming. I certainly would not describe it as "delicious" or "melancholy." I guess it just goes to show that beauty is measured in the nose of the beholder.
One young woman sat next to me who fit the visual and olfactory description above. I found myself imagining her squatting on a dirt floor of a ramshackle casita made of corrugated tin, cooking over a wood stove, taking care of several infants at the same time, and otherwise leading the kind of primitive lifestyle that she and many generations of Mayans before her have led. As I daydreamed about her primitive existence, living no doubt high up in these inaccessible mountains, with no running water, no services whatsoever, and under very primitive conditions, I heard a strange series of tones. I watched in amazement as she dug deep into the confines of her huapile and pulled out her cell phone.
Guatemala is indeed a learning experience.