Feria or bust.

Panajachel's celebration of San Fransisco occurs every year on October 3rd and 4th. Officially. But here in Pana, we like our parties. This means that the traditionally two-day holiday actually lasts for about two weeks, with street venders and tourists arriving early and only leaving once they've had their fair share of feria. The ferris wheel pops up around September 30th, and the bombas, or fireworks (some of which I think might actually just be small bombs), begin the last week of September and increase in frequency throughout the days and nights until finally, on Thursday of one of the longest weeks of your life, after you get home and swear that there's no way in hell you're going back out tonight, the feria has arrived! And it's calling you.

A typical young adult in Pana arrives at the feria around 11pm Thursday night. Humans move and ooze and melt like molasses, slowly making their way toward the Catholic church at the top of the hill. Food stands and impromptu small businesses have set up camp on either side and straight down the middle of Calle Principal, which has been blocked off to motor vehicles. Smells of three-for-10Q tacos, pizza, churros, and fried platanos saturate the street, which is covered by tarps to keep out the pouring rain. Soon, you approach the thirty-something Foosball tables lining the calle, where you can battle your friends, old and new, at the whopping price of 1Q for five games (with no dumb rules about spinning and shaking the table).

Eventually, you reach the end of Calle Principal, sweating and gasping for fresh air. You find yourself standing in the square in front of the Catholic church, surrounded by three ferris wheels, a rocking pirate ship ride, a small merry-go-round, and, unbelievably so, even more people. We are no longer individuals, but one heaping seeping moving mass of feria.

You clamber onto the biggest ferris wheel and hang on for dear life as it hurls you towards the ground at an ungodly speed, then lifts you back up into the air at the last minute, tossing you slightly out of the seat so that the tops of your thighs slam against the bar, keeping you from being flung off the side of the gigantic screeching clanking joy machine. That, not even to your surprise, is rigged to a tractor motor for power. At least it beats the kiddy merry-go-round, which two preteen boys are pushing by hand.

After three rides on the ferris wheel, you reluctantly step down because you know that you probably shouldn't spend more than 30Q on a children's ride. You head towards the church, where a stage has been set up and a band is playing. The rest of the night is filled with dancing, bombas, tacos, and churros, until the official fireworks show begins at 3am. You'd think people would start to head off to bed after that, right? Wrong! The first night of this happy holiday starts to wind down around 6am. As you head home in the wee hours of the morning, you stop by a taco stand where you show the owner pictures that you promised to take for him of the feria, since he wouldn't be able to see it himself that night. Gotta make a living, even during feria, he tells you.

So, if all of this happens on a Thursday night, what happens on Friday night? Well, the exact same thing. And Saturday too. The wonderful town of Pana ferias all weekend long. So much so that it has become a verb. So, are we feria-ing tonight or what?