TRAVELING IN STYLE : PASSION CITY : A Beautiful Town in the Guatemala Highlands Celebrates Holy Week With World-Famous Flair and Drama

BEFORE SUNRISE ON GOOD FRIDAY IN ANTIGUA, GUATEMALA, LOcal citizens dressed as Roman soldiers storm through the city on horseback to announce the sentencing of Christ to death. Residents hurry to finish their alfombras , carpets of flowers and dyed sawdust that will blanket the cobblestone streets. Celebrants gather outside the baroque facade of the church of Nuestra Senora de la Merced, waiting to witness the procession that re-enacts Christ’s progress to his crucifixion.

Shortly after dawn, 80 men in purple tunics surround a portable platform inside the church doors. The anda , as it is called, bears a wooden image of Christ that was sculpted in 1650. The platform is solid cedar and weighs 7,000 pounds. The penitents, called cucuruchos (“cornets,” after the cone-shaped headgear they sometimes wear), hoist it onto their shoulders with considerable effort. They want to be punished. They want to be forgiven. They want to be blessed.

When the statue of Christ appears in the doorway, the crowd outside falls quiet and kneels. The procession begins: Pontius Pilate, incense carriers, the anda , a band playing a death march, a smaller platform holding a 17th-Century statue of the Virgin Mary (this one carried by women), another band. They move at funereal speed. Besides the 80 men who bear the anda , an additional four men push from behind, while a fifth man steers and keeps the penitents in lock step. Several other volunteers raise utility wires overhead with trident poles to prevent them from snagging the cross. The procession often continues through the city well into the night. After dark, lights powered by a portable generator illuminate the anda .

The story of the Passion of Christ is an old one, a story often told--a story that always ends the same way. But during Semana Santa, or Holy Week, here in this Guatemalan city, it is a story charged with such passion and drama that it seems as if it is being told for the first time.

There may be Semana Santa celebrations bigger than Antigua’s, but there is surely none more solemn or more spectacular in Latin America. Antigua and Holy Week are virtually inseparable. The city may have led a chaotic existence over the past four centuries, but Semana Santa remains a constant, an immovable feast. What the hajj is to Mecca, Semana Santa is to Antigua.

When I first arrived in the city last year, it was Holy Week--or at least its prelude--that welcomed me. Although Semana Santa officially lasts from Palm Sunday to Easter, a procession wends its way into town from one of the surrounding villages each Sunday in Lent (which begins about six weeks before Easter). On one such Sunday, I watched a stream of hundreds of penitents walking out of town, toward the mountains, to join the procession at its source. The streets were clogged. The line of faithful seemed to stretch out forever.

A COLONIAL CITY FOUNDED BY THE SPANISH IN 1543, ANTIGUA IS SET IN A VOLCAno-rimmed valley in the Guatemalan highlands, about 30 miles west of Guatemala City, the capital. It has a population of about 25,000--though this swells to more than a quarter million during Semana Santa.

As important as Semana Santa is to Antigua, though, the city is known for something else as well--an activity far less spectacular, but one that lasts all year, with effects reaching far beyond the local community: the teaching of Spanish. Thousands of students--U.S. undergraduates, military personnel, European backpackers, Japanese businessmen and retirees--arrive here each month to study the language. It is difficult, in fact, to find a foreigner who has come to Antigua--for the first time, anyway--for a reason other than to study Spanish. The price is certainly attractive: One-on-one instruction, plus room and board with a local family, costs about $85 a week. The tourist office lists 30 language schools, but there are probably twice that many. A new shingle seems to be hung every week--and there are scores of private tutors. To put it simply, Spanish is the local industry. You could say that Antigua is a factory town without smokestacks.

A factory town, yes, but what a lovely one.

The sun shines almost every day here, but the temperature in these cool highlands rarely climbs above 80. Bougainvillea spills over the tall colonial facades. Majestic purple volcanoes define the landscape. (One of these, known locally as Fuego, meaning fire, still belches smoke and throws off a red glow at night.) Gaze down any street and you’ll see what looks like a doctored photo in a tourist brochure --except that it’s all real. Antigua has no time-share condos just outside the frame to spoil the pretty picture.

Antigua has no billboards, no neon signs, no stoplights. A legion of municipal workers equipped with spades keeps the cobblestone streets free of weeds. The one bland chain hotel thankfully sits on the edge of the city. The citizens are friendly; buenos dias is compulsory, even among strangers. And Antiguenos protect their city’s cultural image. If they are jaded by the beauty that surrounds them, they don’t show it. They seem more like museum docents than residents.

A well-traveled friend of mine calls Antigua the Disneyland of Central America. True, there is a theme-park atmosphere about the place. Those volcanoes, frankly, do look a bit Matterhornesque. But if Antigua is a tourist trap, it is one without teeth. I have yet to spot a “Yo Antigua” bumper sticker. The souvenirs of choice are vibrant textile goods handmade by direct descendants of the ancient Mayas who once lived here. (More than half of Guatemala’s 9 million people are Native Americans of Mayan descent.)

Despite Guatemala’s affordability--prices here are roughly one-third what they are in Mexico--comparatively few Americans find their way to this country. A quick glance at the tourist office logbook in Antigua reveals that European visitors far outnumber those from the United States. Guatemala tends to be a word-of-mouth destination for Americans, one more popular with travelers than with tourists. Many Americans, say locals, apparently confuse Guatemala with Guadalajara. (For the record, Guatemala is immediately south and east of Mexico, set like a keystone into the arch of Central America, and also bordered by Belize, Honduras and El Salvador.) And among those who know exactly where Guatemala is, the widespread perception is that it’s dangerous and politically suspect.

That view is not unfounded. Guatemala is technically the last Central American nation still battling a guerrilla faction, and the country has an abysmal human-rights record. It is estimated that more than 100,000 people have been killed and a similar number driven out of the country by the civil war and by the Guatemalan military’s “scorched earth” policy, under which entire villages were destroyed.

Still, there have been encouraging recent developments. Civil-rights groups are getting stronger. The government is negotiating with refugee leaders, and several thousand of the many Guatemalan Indians who had been living for a decade in camps across the Mexican border ended their exile in January under a United Nations-supervised repatriation accord. And the awarding last year of the Nobel Peace Prize to Guatemalan human-rights activist Rigoberta Menchu should focus more international attention on the problems here.

In the meantime, how dangerous is Guatemala for foreigners? Tourists occasionally are robbed in the highlands. Travel in rural areas after dark is not recommended. And Guatemalan pickpockets are particularly deft, as I can unfortunately report. Antigua, however, remains something of a safe haven for the visitor. An indication of jst where the city’s priorities lie is the fact that the local authorities are called the Policia de Turismo.

Another question that might well be asked is: How dangerous is tourism for Antigua? Although relatively few Americans visit, the Yankee presence here grows ever stronger. Eight video cafes showing American films have opened during the past two years. Catholic Mass is celebrated weekly in English at the church of San Francisco. Antiguenos grumble about rising rents, brought on by an influx of dollar-rich foreigners. One estimate I hear repeated puts foreign ownership of Antiguan homes and businesses at 60%.

TOURISM WAS FAR FROM THE MINDS OF THE CONquistadors who claimed Guatemala for the Spanish crown in the 16th Century. The first colonial capital of the country--Santiago de los Caballeros, which occupied a site now called Ciudad Vieja--washed away in a flood in 1541. A second one was founded, under the same name, in the neighboring Panchoy Valley 18 months later. The new capital was the first European-planned city in the Americas, designed for Spaniards by Spaniards, and built by Indian slaves. Along with Mexico City and Lima, it reigned for more than 200 years as one of the major cities of colonial Latin America. At its peak, Santiago was a bustling city of 60,000 people. It boasted a printing press, a newspaper, 38 churches and numerous monasteries and convents. The University of San Carlos, the sixth in the hemisphere, opened its doors in 1676. (Now located in Guatemala City, the university remains the country’s most important center of higher education.)

A series of devastating earthquakes in the early 18th Century toppled Santiago from its position of power. The end came in 1773, when an especially destructive tremor forced the relocation of the capital to what is now Guatemala City. When that happened, those who remained in Santiago began referring to it as Antigua Guatemala, Old Guatemala, and in 1774 that was adopted as the city’s official name. Today, it’s just Antigua in popular usage. In 1944, the Guatemalan congress declared the city a national monument and major restoration began. Tragically, a massive earthquake in 1976 destroyed some of the city again. The architecture of present-day Antigua, in fact, might be described as Seismic Baroque. The frequent tremors have meant constant repair and remodeling, so it is nearly impossible to determine original construction dates before the 17th Century. The structures that have most successfully survived more or less intact tend to be low buildings with thick walls.

Many of the city’s historic ruins are quite beautiful, though, and you can walk the streets for a week and not see them all. One of the more photogenic ones is that of the Convento de las Capuchinas. Built in 1736 and destroyed 37 years later, it is Antigua’s best-preserved old cloister. The convent features a three-story circular tower, lush gardens and crumbling archways, set against a backdrop of green mountains. The day I visited las Capuchinas, it was unexpectedly alive with shrill laughter. Peering in, I found young girls in matching plaid skirts running about. It suddenly hit me: These were schoolchildren at recess, and they were using the ruins as their playground.

ANTIGUA IS A FESTIVE CITY. CELEBRATIONS ARE COMmonplace. Firecrackers dance in the street before dawn--the traditional wake-up call on birthdays and other festive occasions. In the summer, the streets are jammed with marching bands from the city’s many schools, rehearsing for the annual Sept.16 Independence Day parade.

Most of Antigua’s festivals, though, however raucous they might be, are religious in inspiration. The Christmas season lasts from Dec. 7, the eve of the feast of the Immaculate Conception, to Feb. 2, the commemoration of the Virgin of Candelaria. On the night of Dec. 7, Antiguenos burn the devil in effigy and their trash on the sidewalks. (Last Christmas, I ignited a pile of my rubbish and watched nervously as the flames licked their way up my neighbor’s wall. A car approached and I felt like an arsonist about to be caught in the act. Then I heard the neighbor children in the car shouting at me with glee: “Feliz Noche del Diablo!”--Happy Night of the Devil!) On Christmas Eve, in what I take to be the Guatemalan equivalent of a snowball fight, locals take to the streets and hurl whistling fireworks at one another.

As vivid as these celebrations can be, of course, they pale next to Semana Santa. During Holy Week, Antigua’s population swells by 250,000. Many of the visitors are day-trippers from Guatemala City, but there are also celebrants from every corner of the globe. Some are camera-toting tourists more interested in spectacle than spirituality. Others are devout Catholics who regard their trip to Antigua as a pilgrimage.

There are processions every day during Semana Santa in Antigua. The largest ones are on Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday and Good Friday. Route maps are posted in the major churches from which the processions depart--La Merced on the north side of town, San Francisco and Escuela de Cristo on the south. On Good Friday last year, a man sitting atop a crumbling wall along the procession route with his family helped me climb up alongside him. (There was no room for even one more elbow on the sidewalk below.) He told me that he and his wife and children were Catholics from Colombia. Yes, he said, Semana Santa was celebrated in his country--”but this is the best in the world.” Just then, his attention was diverted. Roman soldiers clad in crimson uniforms and gold helmets could be seen approaching in the distance. Behind them, emerging through clouds of incense, was the bobbing image of Christ.

The processional route is carpeted with the colorful alfombras . On some streets, they overlap. Many of them are simple--a few shafts of grain in the shape of a cross, bordered by pine needles. Others are elaborate works of art full of intricate geometric designs. The main materials are sawdust of various colors and flowers--mostly chrysanthemums, carnations, daisies, irises, lilies and roses. The artists also make ingenious use of fruits, eggshells, even bottle caps. The materials are set down directly on the street and shaped with stencils. One alfombra I saw last year commemorated the 500th anniversary of Columbus’ voyage to the Americas. A Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria of flowers sailed across an ocean of blue sawdust, stretched over 30 yards of cobblestone. Attendants sprayed it with water to keep it from stirring in the breeze as tourists hovered over it with video cameras.

The tradition of the alfombras dates back to the 16th Century. At first they were modest carpets of pine needles and flower petals. And the grand sawdust rugs first appeared about 120 years ago. Lore has it that these originated in a local pottery factory that employed a number of problem drinkers. One day in a cantina, it is said, one of the workers spontaneously suggested to his fellow potters that they switch their allegiance from liquor to the Lord. Back at the workshop, cardboard stencils based on pottery designs were cut, sawdust was dyed and the streets of Antigua have never been the same.

Since then, the alfombras have grown ever more elaborate, encouraged by a friendly rivalry among neighbors. Some of the larger ones can cost as much as $100 to make--a vast sum in a country where the average yearly income is less than $1,200. Simple or elaborate, each of the alfombras is a symbolic sacrifice to Christ. The carpets themselves are sacrificed soon after. The passing procession tramples them underfoot, and the debris is quickly swept up to make way for the following day’s alfombras .

At one point in their progress, the processions pass the Tuscan-style columns of the Ayuntamiento, Antigua’s City Hall. The Ayuntamiento once housed the local jail, and when a procession passed here one Semana Santa in the 18th Century, it is said that all the cell doors miraculously opened and the prisoners were set free. In observation of the miracle, one or two prisoners have been released evry Good Friday since--until 1989, at least, when officials suspended the practice. This proved to be controversial, and there is talk of restoring the tradition, possibly this year. This is hardly surprising: Tinkering with the traditions of Semana Santa in Antigua is heresy. It is the one thing here that isn’t supposed to change.

GUIDEBOOK: Going to Guatemala

Telephone numbers and prices: The country code for Guatemala is 502; the city code for Antigua is 9. If calling from within Guatemala, dial 0 before the numbers listed below. All prices are approximate and are computed at a rate of 5.2 quetzales to the dollar. Hotel rates are for a double room for one night. Restaurant prices are for dinner for two, food only.

Getting there: United Airlines, Aviateca and Taca International Airlines all have daily nonstop flights from Los Angeles to Guatemala City. United, Mexicana and LACSA also offer daily connecting flights via Mexico City, and Continental flies daily to Guatemala City via Houston. Taxis (about $25) and shuttle vans (about $9) are available for the 45-minute drive from Guatemala City’s La Aurora International Airport to Antigua.

Where to stay: Antigua is packed with hotels and posadas (inns) for every budget, but these are very difficult to get into during Semana Santa, so reserve as early as possible. A sampling: Hotel Antigua, 8a. Calle Poniente 1, telephone 320-331, reservations (800) 223-6764. This is the city’s finest, with lush grounds and gardens, and satellite TVs and fireplaces in every room. Rates: $85-$105. Hotel Posada de Don Rodrigo, 5a. Avenida Norte 17, tel. 320-291, is a restored historic colonial house, with a marimba band in the courtyard and a horse-drawn carriage for guests’ use. Rates: $60-$76. Hotel Aurora, 4a. Calle Oriente 16, tel. 320-217, has rooms surrounding a tranquil courtyard. Rates: $28-$37. Posada Asjemenou, 5a. Avenida Norte 31, tel. 322-670, is near Antigua’s famed arch. Large rooms, good value. Rates: $10-$20. Hotel Posada San Francisco, 3a. Calle Oriente 19, tel. 320-266, simple accommodations at the quiet end of town. Rates: $3-$10. Once you’re in Antigua, room and board with local families is also available, at an average rate of $35 a week. It’s not necessary to be a student to qualify for these accommodations, but most arrangements are made through local language schools. A list of these is available at the local tourist office, and boarding opportunities are also advertised on the bulletin boards at the Parque Central and in the Dona Luisa de Xicotencatl restaurant--the latter of which functions almost as an unofficial town newspaper.

Where to eat: Antigua is restaurant-rich, offering numerous ethnic choices--Italian, German, Japanese and more, as well as typical local dishes. A sampling: Fonda de la Calle Real, two locations--5a. Avenida Norte 5, tel. 322-696, and 3a. Calle Poniente 7, no telephone--specializes in comida tipica , including caldo de pollo , a hearty chicken soup; dinner $4-$14. Oasis del Peregrino, 7a. Avenida Norte 96, no telephone, offers a diverse menu, including Hungarian goulash and vegetarian lasagna; $6-$10. Dona Luisa de Xicotencatl, 4a. Calle Oriente 12, tel. 322-578, is popular with Americans and locals alike. This restaurant serves burgers and sandwiches made with bread from an on-premises bakery; $3-$6.

Holy Week: Semana Santa in Antigua will be celebrated this year from Palm Sunday, April 4, through Easter Sunday, April 11. The biggest processions occur on Good Friday. Vigils are held at the major churches throughout the week.

Language schools: The Antigua tourist office will not supply a list of language schools by mail but upon receipt of a written request, will forward queries to a select number of institutions, which may reply privately. New schools open constantly, but the oldest and largest is Proyecto Linguistico Francisco Mallorquin, 4a. Avenida Sur 4, tel. 320-406. Another well-known language school is Centro Linguistico Maya, 5a. Calle Poniente 20, tel. 320-656.

For more information: Contact the Guatemalan Tourist Commission, 299 Alhambra Circle, Suite 510, Coral Gables, Fla. 33134, (800) 742-4529, or the Oficina de Turismo, Palacio de los Capitanes Generales, Antigua, Guatemala, tel. 320-763. English is spoken.