I arrived in Chichicastenango on Saturday afternoon, and Maya traders were already flowing in from surrounding villages to take part in the town's famous Sunday market. Some rode on rickety buses, roofs laden with pottery and great bundles of weavings. Others travelled on foot, bent beneath enormous loads kept from toppling over by ropes tied around their foreheads. Men, women, and entire families came, as they have for centuries, to peddle their wares, socialize, and carry out their religious ceremonies at the town's churches and nearby Mayan shrines.

Chichicastenango--or "Chichi", as the locals call it--is situated in the heart of Guatemala's highlands, more than 2,000 metres above sea level. This isolated mountain town has been a major trading post since pre-Hispanic times. Chichi became the spiritual centre of the Quiché Maya after they fled there from their capital city of K'umarcaaj, which was destroyed by the army of the ruthless Spanish conquistador Pedro de Alvarado in 1524.

The sharp smells of food cooking on charcoal braziers and the comforting sound of women slapping tortillas filled the cool air as people began settling in for the night under the arcades of decaying colonial buildings. Meanwhile, in Chichi's sprawling main square, workers were busy draping plastic tarpaulins over ropes strung from forests of metal poles.

I awoke early on Sunday morning and made my way through throngs of people to the plaza. To my astonishment, it had been transformed overnight into a maze of vendors' stalls overflowing with rainbow-coloured woollen shawls, bags, hats, wooden masks, and myriad other Mayan handicrafts coveted by travellers from around the globe.

However, I soon discovered that Chichi's market is not held solely for tourists. Everything from pots and pans to carved wooden furniture, medicinal herbs, tools, and cheap plastic trinkets were for sale. In a cavernous building next to the square, I happened upon a busy produce market. Women wrapped in rainbow-coloured shawls and men sporting straw Stetson hats and fantastically decorated jackets sat patiently among piles of avocados, tomatoes, carrots, lemons, and mangos.

The intricate patterns on Maya clothing distinguish the wearer's village, occupation, and marital status. These designs also form vital links with the past. They often depict figures from ancient Mayan cosmology plus images of sacred animals and plants. Their brilliant hues can also have symbolic meanings: yellow standing for corn, green for hope, and red for sacrificial blood.

It didn't take me long to find the 16th-century church of Santo Tomás, which dominates the eastern end of the market. This plain, whitewashed building is the focal point of Chichi's religious activity. At the base of its semicircular front steps--reminiscent of the steep staircases ascending ancient Maya pyramids--women were selling huge bunches of lilies, hyacinths, and roses. Maya shaman-priests called chuchkahau ("mother-father") stood on the top landing. They mumbled prayers and swung homemade censers back and forth amid clouds of pungent copal incense.

From the church's steps, I watched members of a religious brotherhood known as a confradia march single file through the crowds of milling shoppers. These serious-looking men wore three-quarter-length breeches and traditional costumes signifying their ranks. Some carried ceremonial staffs topped with silver crucifixes and other symbols. Repetitive drum and flute music accompanied the procession.

Chichicastenango has 14 confradias, which date back to the days of the conquistadors. Each confradia is charged with the ritual care of a patron saint. During fiestas, members parade wooden statues of the saints around town with great fanfare. The elected leaders of the confradias must finance these expensive celebrations themselves and carry out various civic duties, but in return they and their families enjoy much prestige within the community.

I entered Santo Tomás through a side door. Its interior was dim and mysterious. Bottled drinks, flowers, and other offerings to ancestors dotted the floor, which was strewn with pine needles. Worshippers packed into wooden pews at the front of the nave were singing hymns in the Quiché Mayan language. Over their heads, beams of light streamed in through narrow windows, piercing smoke from a sea of flickering candles that engulfed the altar.

Afterwards, I went looking for the museo regional (regional museum) and came across its entrance hidden behind a jumble of market stalls on the plaza's south side. Glass cases full of well-preserved Mayan artifacts lined the walls of this small museum's galleries. Included in the display were ceramic censers, statues of gods, obsidian blades, and metate stones used for grinding corn. There was also a fine collection of pre-Hispanic jade jewellery assembled by Ildefonso Rossbach, a Catholic priest who worked in Chichicastenango from 1894 to 1944.

Ready for a break from Chichi's hectic market, I decided to visit the hilltop shrine of Pascual Abaj, located on the outskirts of town. I set off down a cobblestone street that eventually turned into a winding footpath that climbed through corn fields and forest to a large clearing surrounded by pine trees. Rough stone altars and a charred statue of the Mayan god Pascual Abaj stood in the middle of a well-trodden patch of ground. Beside the shrine, women tended wood fires, and shamans ceaselessly waved their censers above the ground while reciting incantations.

Several men were kneeling in front of the amorphous-looking image of Pascual Abaj, which is thought to be an ancient Earth deity. They were apparently asking the idol for favours and had brought presents of soft drinks and beer, which they had placed on the altars alongside burning candles and sticks of incense. I had heard that petitioners also sometimes sacrifice a chicken to Pascual Abaj, but I was happy to miss this event. By paying back their gods with gifts, the Maya believe that they will continue to be rewarded with good fortune and bountiful crops.

One of the shamans spotted me taking pictures of the shrine and started walking toward me. The Maya often don't like being photographed, so I feared he might be angry. But the shaman turned out to be curious about my small camera. I showed him how the camera's zoom lens worked and let him take a look through the viewfinder. He smiled and thanked me, then returned to his prayers. I headed back to the Sunday market, hoping to strike some bargains of my own.

ACCESS: From Vancouver, Continental Airlines (www.continental. com/) flies to Guatemala City via Houston, and Mexicana Airlines (www.mexicana.com/) has service through Mexico City. There is frequent bus service to Chichicastenango from Guatemala City. The 165-kilometre trip takes about 3.5 hours. Several tour companies in Guatemala City and nearby Antigua provide minibus service to Chichicastenango and can also make hotel reservations. The colonial-style Mayan Inn (about US$90 double, www.mayaninn.com.gt/) is the most attractive hotel in Chichi. The Hotel Santo Tomás (hst@itelgua.com/) has similar rates and is often used by tour companies. Both these hotels have good restaurants. Chichi also has numerous budget hotels, such as the popular Posada Belén (about US$15; phone 1-502-756-1244). It is a good idea to arrive on Saturday for Chichi's Sunday market, because accommodations can fill up quickly. There is also a smaller market held on Thursdays. For more information, contact the Guatemala Tourist Commission (inguat@guate.net/).