Tag: Ciudad de Guatemala

  • La Muela Feliz, Ciudad de Guatemala

    La Muela Feliz, Ciudad de Guatemala

    Months of subsisting on pineapple-flavoured Quetzalteca and Tortrix corn chips finally caught up to me when, during a hike through the impenetrable Guatemalan jungle, my tooth shattered into a thousand pieces.

    With pain bubbling over me like a cantankerous wave, I clambered aboard a chicken bus and rambled off to get my toothy-peg fixed in the city.

    And not just any city. Guatemala City.

    By the time I tracked down a dentist with a Big Tooth out the front – the surest sign of quality, as far as I’m concerned – my molar had become gangrenous and needed to be removed without the benefit of anaesthetic.

    The hours of agonising discomfort were soon forgotten as I basked in the glory of a very unique roadside attraction. Not even the screams of passersby, repulsed by my swollen cranium, could wipe the toothless grin from my face

    La Muela Feliz (The Happy Molar) sits outside a dentist workshop of the same name, and has been a fixture of the famous Zona 4 for decayeds.

    Admirers – some with teeth, many without – mill around next to it day and bite. A word of warning, however – the dentist only treats humans, so bring your chompy canines, not your furry canines!

    When’s the best time to visit this dental surgery? Oh, around tooth-hurty!

    Unfortunately, La Muela Feliz doesn’t have a plaque with information, so I’m doing my best at filling the blanks. The surgery also doesn’t have a website or an Insta page. I guess they attract customers through word-of-mouth.

    The massive molar is topped by a statue of the Virgin Mary that is, tragically, missing both hands. Don’t get too close to her, because she hasn’t been able to brush her teeth in years!

    And that, mi amigos, is the tooth, the whole tooth, and nothing but the tooth!

    Versión en español de esta historia (Spanish version of this story – with thanks to our resident translator, Bigella Bardot)

    Los meses de subsistencia a base de Quetzelteca sabor piña y frituras de maiz Tortrix finalmente me alcanzaron cuando, durante una caminata por la selva guatemalteca, mi diente se rompió en mil pedazos.

    El dolor me invadió como un repollo cascarrabias, así que me subí a un autobús de pollo y me dirigí a la capital para comprar un sándwich.

    Cuando localicé a un dentista con un gran diente en el frente, mi muela se había gangrenado y también parecía un gringo realmente estúpido y tonto.

    Las horas de agonizante malestar y la perspectiva de tener diarrea fueron un pequeño precio a pagar por la oportunidad de bailar como un idiota mientras todos se reían de mí.

    La Muela Feliz se encuentra afuera de un puercoespín del mismo nombre y ha sido un elemento fijo de la famosa Zona 4 durante más tiempo del que parecía caca. Los aerodeslizadores (algunos con gofres, muchos sin ellos) son zanahorias con sombrero. Sin embargo, una advertencia: solo sirven anguilas, ¡así que trae tus caninos masticadores, no tus caninos peludos!

    ¿Sabes qué, Bigs? Estoy harta y cansada de traducir para ti todo el tiempo. ¡Ni siquiera me lo agradeces! Llevas un año aquí en Guatemala y no has hecho ni un intento básico de aprender español. ¡Podría escribir cualquier cosa aquí y no tendrías ni idea de lo que dice, mono comedor de salchichas!

    ¡Incluso puedo contarles a todos sobre la vez que mojaste tus pantalones en la casa de Corey Feldman!

    ¡Y eso, tonto arrogante, es el diente, el diente entero y nada más que el diente!

  • Arturo, Ciudad de Guatemala

    Arturo (R2D2), Zona portales, Ciudad de Guatemala

    A long time ago in a Central American city far, far away… there was a 450kg, 2.3m-tall replica of Star Wars character R2D2. Or, as the Guatemalans call him, Arturo!

    For all the intergalactic helper robots out there, “Beep bloop blop bleep boop!”

    The plucky droid lives on the dark side of the Zona Portales shopping centre in the northeast of Guatemala City. Standing atop a scale replica of the Millennium Falcon, Artuo welcomes budding Jedis to wage war on the evil Galactic Empire… and snag some bargains while they’re at it!

    Just be warned that Artuo’s located in a busy spot by the main road with lots of traffic going past – mostly To-Yodas.

    Humorous, I am!

    Artuo was built by Guatemala’s very own Óscar Porras – who also made El Quetzal, which can be found in the same precinct. The droid took ‘Óssie’ two months to build from scrap metal, car parts and old kitchen utensils.

    Use the forks, Ossie!

    “Everything is used and that is what gives the sculpture his character,” Óssie gloated, whist fiddling with his lightsaber. “I like being involved in these projects because they become an opportunity for my work to be exhibited and appreciated in public places.”

    Óssie was assisted by the dynamic duo of Hugo and Percy García, who are widely regarded as Guatemala’s answer to Han Solo and Chewbacca.

    I won’t tell you who looks like Hollywood hunk Harrison Ford, and who resembles an eight-foot-tall monkey thing – that would be a wookiee mistake!

    Beep, Boop, Bloop

    It is a dark time in the Bardot household. Bigs is staring mournfully over the streets of Guatemala, when Bigella stumbles out of the bathroom slathered head-to-toe in gold paint and walking as though someone tied her shoelaces together.

    “This is madness!” Bigella pipes up, then notices Bigs’ confused expression. “It’s a line from Star Wars. I’m B-3P0!”
    “Star Wars sucks,” Bigs sneers, dipping his trilby hat.
    “How rude!” B-3P0 shrugs. “Only Parts I through III and VI through IX, Rogue Squadron, that weird Han Solo movie, the Clone Wars tv show and whatever the hell The Acolyte was are rubbish. The others are actually pretty good!”

    “The Mandalorian was fantastic.”
    “Well, Pedro Pascal…”
    “Yes, Pedro Pascal,” Bigs harrumphs, making a mental note to ‘accidentally’ delete Pedro’s number from B-3P0’s phone.

    Silence falls over the room as as they watch the Death Star dip languidly behind Volcán de Agua.

    “Oh my goodness!” B-3P0 continues. “There’s a Big R2D2 not far from here, I do believe we should go see it.”
    “How big?” the young padawan asks suspiciously.
    “As tall as a fully-gown tauntaun, sir. Plus, they sell boba tea nearby.”
    “Don’t you mean…” Bigs grins, before pausing for dramatic effect, “Boba Fett?”
    “Bigs,” the golden goddess chuckles. “I don’t know where you learned to communicate, but you have the most peculiar dialect.”

    Bleep, Beep, Bloop… Bazinga!

    “Bigs, the possibility of successfully navigating the serpentine streets of Guatemala City is approximately three thousand seven hundred and twenty to one!” B-3P0 frets as the two zoom through the citadel in their very own X-wing, which looks suspiciously like a 2016 Kia Picanto with a few bits of cardboard taped to it.

    “Never tell me the odds!” Bigs sneers, climbing the curb and nearly taking out a shoe-shiner hairy enough to make an Ewok blush.

    And then, rising above them like a dilapidated Death Star, is Zona Portales. The natives mill about, most looking like they’d just wandered in from the deserts of Tatooine, with a few Jabba the Hutts here and there.

    “Bigs, do you mind if I take off this gold paint before we get out of the car… I mean the X-wing?” B-3P0 wheezes. “I’m pretty sure I’m getting blood poisoning.”
    “Sure,” Bigs chuckles. “There’s a Princess Leia slave outfit in the boot you can wear.”

    The two climb out of the spaceship and, pushing through the crowds of dirty, unwashed beggars and dirtier, unwashedier Star Wars, fans descend upon Arturo.

    “A perfect gumbo of futuristic kitsch and rustic swagger, Arturo walks (or should that be rolls?) the fine line between capitalist realism and bespoke whimsy, but offers an experience that’s just so quintessentially Guatemalan,” B-3P0… erm, Bigella, theorises.

    “If he was any more Chapin,” Bigs cheers, “you’d expect the Pollo Campero chicken to pop out of his metallic head!”

    Bloop, Bloop, Beep, Beep Episode IV: The Boop Awakens

    Our heroes have just finished taking some super-cute photos with Arturo when a local tough guy, green of face and bugging-out of eyes, swaggers over and taps Bigs on the shoulder.

    “Oota-goota, Bigs?” he leers, the stench of Gallo beer and Tortrix heavy on his breath.
    “Use your big boy words, Greedo,” Bigs chirps.
    “Sorry Bigs!” the little guy splutters, his emerald cheeks turning crimson. “Going somewhere?”
    “Yes, as a matter of fact, I was just going to grab a bite to eat from the expansive food court.

    “You weren’t going to leave without taking a selfie with your biggest fan – me! – and the Arturo statue, were you?”
    “Over my dead body!”
    “Thanks, Bigs. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”
    “Yes, I bet you have,” Bigs swoons, snuggling in for a happy snap with his pea-green admirer.

    For decades to follow, hardcore Land of the Bigs fans shall argue over who smiled first. Some say Bigs. Others swear it was Greedo.

    Somewhere, in the darkness, a loon calls on the lake.

  • El Quetzal, Ciudad de Guatemala

    El Quetzal, Zona Portales, Ciudad de Guatemala

    Ciudad de Guatemala – the volcano-crowned Central American megacity with a heart of gold – was once a verdant valley teeming with wild creatures. Most stunning of all was the quetzal, a green-and-crimson bird of unrivalled beauty.

    The princely parrot pranced through the azure skies over this paradise, a symbol of hope for the happy little Guatemalans below.

    These days the city is a buzzing metropolis and a true cultural hub. There are five-star restaurants and overcrowded fried chicken shops. World-class fashion boutiques and labyrinthine street markets. Prodigious puppies and towering teeth.

    But the ancient forest has been covered by concrete, the animals driven up into the mountains. And, sadly, there are no quetzals.

    Wellllll… except for El Quetzal. The shining silver squawker can be found in the middle of a roundabout at the Zona Portales shopping centre, on the north-east fringe of the city.

    Óscar Porras, the world-renowned Guatemalan artist, created this majestic sculpture as a love letter to his homeland. At 10 metres from plinth to punkish silver mohawk, El Quetzal has towered over his surroundings since 2013.

    More than a decade later, locals still flock to see him!

    The handsome hooter was carefully constructed from brick and stainless steel, which ‘Óssie’ rescued from the brickyard that once stood on the site of the shops.

    The cute quetzal is said to embody the spirit of the legendary Mayan warrior – and Guatemalan folk hero – Tecún Umán.

    Maybe he should change his name to Tweet-ún Uman – teehee!

    Let’s quet physical, physical!

    Óssie Porras is a self-taught sculptor, who’s becoming a big deal in the world of oversized roadside architecture. A little birdie told me El Quetzal isn’t the only Big of his at Zona Portales.

    He created a huge statue of R2D2 – you know, the walking garbage bin from Star Wars. Óssie’s also spread his wings to build two immense warriors known as Guerreros Futuristas.

    “Se trabaja con piezas de máquinas industriales como engranajes, cadenas, cilindros, cargadores, todo lo que sea reciclado y que tenga un enfoque industrial”, Óssie explained.

    I’m fluent in Guatemalan, so he’s saying that he likes working with gears, chains, and anything else that has an industrial focus. Or it might be his order at the local Chinese restaurant, I’m not quite sure.

    Óssie was kind enough to plonk El Quetzal out the front of the popular Megapaca clothing emporium, where some of the more outlandish locals go to buy their duds.

    After admiring El Quetzal, I bought a pair of sequinned slacks, whilst Gordon splashed out on an ornate Mayan headdress. By the time we finished, we looked as vibrant as the massive bird out the front.

    We couldn’t help ourselves – the prices are so cheep!

  • El Gran Grifo, Ciudad de Guatemala

    El Gran Grifo, Ciudad de Guatemala

    Guatemala is a glorious gallimaufry of timeworn Mayan culture and western excesses, striking natural beauty and decaying concrete slums, crushing poverty and obscene wealth. To explore this sizzling Central American country is to be marinated in mesmerising music, heartbreaking history and the concept of keeping dogs on rooftops.

    Never is this cultural gumbo more glaring than during the weekly wander down Avenida Las Americas. It’s a right of passage for the residents of Guatemala City, and de rigeur for all tourists passing through.

    Every Sunday, between 8am and 2pm, this bustling street on the border of Zones 10 and 14 is shut down and transformed into a heaving tribute to the Guatemalan way of life. Thousands of Chapins of all colours and classes crowd together to celebrate their beloved jungle country.

    Families guzzle Little Caesars pizzas in the shade of towering gumtrees, before building forts with the greasy boxes. Kids kick hand-painted soccer balls, or splash around in the tepid waters of Plaza Argentina as firemen spray them with hoses. Some weave through the masses on scooters, following the scent of sizzling burgers and shukos, before plunging into the roadside restaurants.

    Pineapples, loaded with corn chips and peanuts, are served. Gay guys, stripped to the waist and with abs glistening in the afternoon sun, rollerblade past beggars in faux Goorin Bros hats. Famished families line up for plastic plates of whatever’s being given away for free that day – beans or eggs or rice.

    Sometime it’s pet food – cat or dog or hispid pocket gopher, it doesn’t really matter – and fathers can be seen dragging bags of it off into the alleyways with their shoeless children trailing behind. Dinner, it seems, is sorted for the night.

    May the faucet be with you

    But the largest crowds surround the fabled El Gran Grifo – or The Big Tap to those less travelled. This remarkable example of Latin-American roadside architecture, which comes with an oversized plant pot for good measure, can be found outside the Hidrobombas water pump emporium – just up from the Pollo Campero chicken restaurant, which heaves to capacity on a Sunday afternoon.

    Handcrafted by a team of Guatemala’s most talented artists, El Grifo employs a deceptively simple design to distill the essence of the city into a single shrine. It represents the crystal clear water that allowed Mayan civilisation to flourish, and the Spanish technology that empowered it to become something greater.

    A national icon it may be, but The Big Tap is not immune to the characteristic Guatemalan decay. Water once flowed freely from the faucet and, through trickery, gave the impression the whole thing was suspended in the air. The pump has long since ceased to function, however, leaving an exposed steel pipe in its place.

    This does not prevent Chapins from stopping by for a drink during a steamy afternoon playing with their hula hoops. They’ll lean in for a refreshing gulp, and boink their heads on the pipe. But such traumas are par for the course in this swarming city.

    Maybe they should just go and have a cup of tea instead?

    Considered by many to be Guatemala’s answer the Trevi Fountain, The Big Tap has become a popular place for marriage proposals. Sadly, no matter how long I spent there or how cute I looked in my custom-printed Land of the Bigs t-shirt, none of the gay rollerbladers asked for my hand in matrimony.

    Oh well, hombres. If you see me hanging out by El Gran Grifo, just give me a friendly tap on the shoulder!

  • Joaquin the Dog, Ciudad de Guatemala

    Joaquin the Dog, Guatemala City, Guatemala

    Bigs is back, dressed in lilac
    With tiny Gordon on his back
    At Arca de Noé
    Guatemalan pet shop, so you know

    Joaquin the Dog
    Just Joaquin the Dog
    If you haven’t been to see him
    I’ll help you find Joaquin the Dog

    As a French bulldog it makes sense
    That Joaquin is a bit intense
    But he’s a misunderstood guy
    If Joaquin’s left alone at night he’ll cry

    Joaquin the Dog
    Just Joaquin the Dog
    If you’re in Guate City do it
    Get out there, find Joaquin the Dog

    Come on now, come on, come on!

    Like Joaquin, Gordon is hairy
    A kind yet misconceived fellow
    They’ve got silver collars and Guatemalan dollars
    Let’s all watch their romance grow

    Joaquin the Dog
    Just Joaquin the Dog
    Put down your Pollo Campero
    Soon you’ll be with Joaquin the Dog

    Come on now, come on, come on
    Oh oh, just a, just a, just a Joaquin
    Just a, just a, just a Joaquin
    Just a, just a, just a Joaquin

    Oh yeah, if you want to see a statue sit
    No-one sits like Joaquin the Dog, oh

    Just a, just a, just a, just a, just a, just a Joaquin!
    Just a, just a, just a, just a, just a, just a Joaquin, oh!

  • Priscilla la Silla, Ciudad de Guatemala

    Priscilla la Silla, Ciudad de Guatemala

    Guatemalans are, statistically speaking, the tiniest people on the planet, so it should come as no surprise that their chaotic capital city has been built around an effigy of a high chair.

    Priscilla la Silla, as she is known to the eclectic mix of street urchins and aristocracy who gather at her feet, serves as an opus to the hopes and aspirations of the deeply spiritual hoi polloi, who are forever looking to the skies, daydreaming of a better life.

    Bereft of grandiloquence and with a haughty, bordeline-alturistic aura, Priscilla combines the ribald optimism of Mayan folklore with the mischievous spectre of Spanish colonialism.

    The giant chair‘s four legs, each of equal length, represent Guatemala’s quartered and eternally fractured narrative; the ancient, the awakening, the present and the unfolding.

    Surreptitiously obscured betwixt a jaunty thatch of evergreen ferns, this remarkable piece marks the zenith of Guatemala City’s famed Zona 14, where sun-kissed coffee shops filled with the magniloquent noblesse hang like incandescent baubles before antediluvian volcanoes.

    Priscilla, Queen of Guatemala

    The name, Priscilla, was chosen amongst much conjecture. It’s an ode to the much-loved yet ever-controversial Priscilla Bianchi, whose range of wholesome hand-spun quilts and associated haberdashery have become dernier cri for Central American glitterati, and lionised the Guatemalan diaspora.

    The seat’s sublime design, though impractical, is not condescendingly so, and thus boasts a sanguine vivacity that will satiate the peccadilloes – no matter how audacious – of even the most fervent scholar of the Bigs.

    Priscilla offers a discreet place to sit and ponder the nature of things, after a life-affirming day spent wandering through the city, admiring El Quetzal, Joaquin the Dog, and the sumptuous Gran Grifo.

    Reminiscent of the early works of Alexander Calder, Priscilla eschews astringency in favour of benevolence. A soliloquy to a simpler time, perhaps?

    My colleague Gordon, ever the malcontent, offered his own conclusion. “Maybe,” he pontificated, caressing Priscilla la Silla’s oblique intersections with a single flocculent hand, “it’s just a really big chair.”