Chocolate is a nearly universal affinity, so there was nothing odd about Antonio Chávez liking it. But two things set him apart: his Mexican forebears had gobbled chocolate centuries before Europeans even had sugar; and his freakish devotion bred a chocolate dynasty.

In 1967, I came to Guatemala to work as a secretary at the Japanese Embassy. Two years later, I met a Japanese man who was studying the indigenous weaving techniques and dress from Guatemala. This man, who became my husband, introduced me to the wonderful world of the Mayan tradition and history of this country. One day, when he returned from one of his research trips in the western part of the country, he brought me a half-woven backstrap loom. He gave me some advice on its handling. This loom, from Santiago Atitlán, primitive and quite simple, was my first encounter with this type of instrument. Since then, I have been working constantly with some kind of loom. I now use one that I have created, which has some of the versatility of the backstrap loom and the speed of the foot loom. For my textile creations I use threads that I hand-spin with cotton fibers from a plant in my garden. Sometimes, I use colored threads, which my husband obtains from animals and plants.

Larger than life defines the new mural installed in the church of San Francisco el Grande in Antigua, Guatemala. Literally, symbolically and spiritually. The work by Guatemala artist Rosamaría Pascual de Gámez was inaugurated in April, in time for the second anniversary in July of the canonization of Saint Hermano Pedro José de Betancourt, whose tomb resides in the south nave. Saint Hermano Pedro is depicted near the top right of the painting, carrying the baby Jesus in his right arm and clutching his identifying bell in his left hand. He is gazing up at the image of God the Father with outstretched arms, an image emerging through an explosion of light that dominates the work.

If you have ever endured an episode of Mexico’s sitcom, Chavo del Ocho (Eight Ball), you might notice the resemblance between Eric Ruiz and “Don Ramón.” Don Eric, however, is handsomer and smarter than Don Ramón, and immeasurably funnier—without even trying. If the producers of Chavo ever decided to improve the show by replacing the actors, Eric would win the audition.

Maestro Horacio Ozaeta Méndez marches to the beat of a different drummer. His impressive biography bears years of experience in two disciplines: music and journalism. But he does not have a phone and monthly publishes and personally delivers his magazines to literature racks in La Antigua Guatemala.

Street girl becomes medical doctor. Sound like rags to riches? Could be, if one defines riches in terms of dreams coming true, especially the dream to serve one’s people. Elena Trejo was a courageous and determined Maya woman who stood just 4 feet 11 inches but had big dreams, leading her to become Guatemala’s first indigenous female medical doctor.

Mostly we disdain colados, those interlopers who cut in front of us at the checkout line without gauging our objection with a glance. This is the name Guatemalans give to such people, and also to the last bit of anything pressed through a strainer—such as the final drop squeezed by sidewalk orange juice vendors. The colado label is also applied to delayed arrivals in a family such as José Carlos Flores who was born nine years after the youngest of his five siblings. As the final child of a prosperous coffee broker and his wife, he was destined to become a career colado. But he would not be the self-serving kind. It was through merit, not short-cuts, that he won a place in line to attend Amherst High School near Boston, Ma. Life in the cradle of U.S. political thought was enough to tug him toward political science as a major, but not away from editorship of the 1982-83 Amherst yearbook.

Sacatepéquez Gov. José Francisco Girón De León, known to many simply as Don Paco, is a busy man of action. Consistent with the adage, “If you want to get something done, ask a busy person,” he is not afflicted by the mañana syndrome. At a meeting about security issues in La Antigua Guatemala neighborhoods, he picked up his phone, asked Comisario Rolando Antonio Solomán Rangel, the local Chief of Police, to join the group and instructed his secretary to contact others who might shed some light on potential solutions.

David Jickling and his wife Cynthia looked at 50 properties in La Antigua Guatemala before they chose the house they would buy in 1965. The house next door had a thatched roof, and across 2nd Avenida Norte were the ruins of the Capuchinas Church and Convent. The Jicklings became the 19th owners of the house, which was first registered in 1568. They wondered, “Who were these people? How did they earn a living?” His intellectual curiosity was sparked, and he began a quest that continues to this day.

Guests gasp at dramatic arrangements of exotic tropical flowers that welcome them to fine hotels and restaurants in Guatemala City and La Antigua Guatemala. "They stop my pick-up when I make deliveries and ask where the flowers came from," says Marcel Roehrs. Roehrs is the proud owner of the Selva Maya flower farm in Escuintla. He raises more than 120 varieties of the unusual flowers and some 30 varieties of foliage for the arrangements.