There’s a component or an element of Antigua, Guatemala’s most famous city that is subliminal. Visually there are the three volcanoes that overlook the tourist Mecca, a few coffee farms, a macadamia plantation or two and some decent art galleries. There’s T-shirts, refrigerator magnets and brilliantly hued Maya weavings. There’s the evening pastel wash of color on the walls or the sky and the morning sun that lights up the scarlet bougainvillea overhanging the walls.
If you walk down the right alley, there’s the smell of roasting coffee beans, or if you walk by the outdoor vendors at the La Merced Church, the scent of fresh tortillas and barbecued meat seasons the air.
There’s the splash of the fountains in Central Park, the laughter of young children and the clip-clop sounds of the horse shoes on the cobblestones as the carriages slowly circumnavigate the plaza.
I submit that there is a tactile or textural element in Antigua that adds an extra flavor or a non verbal component to the other senses of sight, smell and hearing that make up the totality of this town.
Look as you walk the streets and stroll along the sidewalks: observe the subtle patterns of hand-laid cobblestones that have been there for over four hundred years. Walk along the sidewalks, dodging the loose stones and observe the mosaic of stones overlaying what one archeologist described as a Maya village fifty under the present level. Count the layers of multi-colored rubble re-used, again and again. Antigua has an unusual sense of texture, mixed with a series of visual treats and a tactile feeling emanating from the cobblestones, the damaged walls and her propped up cathedrals. Call it depth or dimension: I call it delightful.