“¿Por favor puedo tomar una foto?” I smile at the Mayan lady in the marketplace, with her colorful dress and vegetables surrounding her in a whirlwind of colors and textures, a sight that screams Guatemala in one glance. She looks at me, and sadly shakes her head. I wish her a good day and move on disappointed, but contemplative.

In Guatemala today there exists a perplexingly fine line between the gravitational pull of modern day and the splendors of civilizations past. There are many obscure layers to peel back and separate before getting to the heart of the issue. The first layer leaves me uncomfortably exposed, with my naked and self-serving desire to capture a person for my memories, for my contemplation, for my purposes—whatever they may be. Although my intentions are good, I simply find her colors and essence too beautiful to glimpse just once in passing—what gives me the right to posses her, even in just a photograph? There is a Mayan belief that taking a picture is an act of capturing one´s soul; creating a culture both fascinated and terribly fearful of the camera. A fear that is ignited even more so now as more and more tourists leave more and more places in Guatemala conquered by the camera. The result is a mixed bag, the heads that turn away or duck out of sight as the camera is produced, even if the focus is on Parque Central and no one subject in particular. I have had several instances where upon pulling out my camera heads duck out of sight. A taboo I can both understand and appreciate; I hate it when someone whips out a video camera to film “everything” as the walk along. I always get a perverse pleasure knowing that my scowl probably ruined 1 second of the Mayan temples or some other treasure trove that absolutely cannot be missed, honey did you bring the video camera?!

However on Sunday, I sampled a different flavor of Guatemala. We made our way to the sleepy village of San Andres Xecul, a small village whose only tourist highlight was a colorfully decorated church façade, so unusual in a land of white or pastel churches. But as it was so out of the way and small, it barely registers as more than a blurb in most guidebooks. It must not be frequented often enough that tourists are an event to be gawked at, as the news traveled faster up the street than we did. Two foreign white girls with cameras are here! As we made our way up the hill from the church to the Cavalro, a building matching the décor of the church on top a steep hill overlooking the town and surrounding valley, the little boys chased after us screaming and playing. Younger children peeked out of us from half closed courtyard doors, and we even caused enough fear for a young boy to run and close the door as we crossed past. The young girls in their beautiful skirts of a million differently threaded colors, ran past us in groups only to be caught peeking out us curiously and giggling before running past in their packs. Two older girls were leaning against a courtyard door calmly, but still curiously watching our approach. I gave them my best smile and asked for a picture. They glanced down shyly, then glanced at each other, each seeking permission from the other. Finally they responded they didn´t know. I waited patiently still smiling like a goon. Then came the golden pass: an affirmative nod. Not wanting to push my luck or make them feel on display, I shot two photos instantaneously without glancing at my camera settings or the photo. Praying they came out decently I asked the girls if they wanted to see. A shy smile and another nod, and I crossed the street to show them. I´m sure they would have been impressed at anything, but they were delighted with the picture of themselves. “Que linda, muchas gracias que le vaya bien,” I cooed, goony grin plastered on my face, delighted with the interaction. It´s not the best picture I´ve taken this trip, but it may be one of my favorite memories so far. In this case the camera was the only natural course towards a conversation, even if brief. Discouraged and slightly embarrassed before after a stream of denials and greetings of fear, I finally captured a smile. A picture, even mediocre ones tells a 1000 words, but more importantly, it speaks in a language so universal we all can understand. Goofy grin and all, Guatemala is smiling back…