The legend tells that the qeqchi'es were untouchable, and that only the hard work of the Dominican missionaries accomplished to turn the Land of War, or Tezulutlan, into the region of the Real Peace (Vera Paz).

If you are flying from Guatemala, between the dense clouds you can admire the fertile land of the orchids, the region of the Verapaces. If you travel by car, nature offers two different spectacles. Due to the unfortunately deforestation the road seems a little yellowish during the dry season, from the Capital City all the way to El Rancho; meanwhile, if you travel on the rainy season you can see all the tones of green in the hills and mountains. However, after passing El Rancho the green is permanent, and while the vehicle spins and spins boarding the heights of what the Mayans used to compare with the back of a giant alligator, known as Cauac, the view is lost in the wonderful heights and amazing gorges, known to the residents as ziguanes.

After a few hours of travel the road opens into a line of houses that tell us that we have reached Coban. We seem to share with Tomas Gage, a visitor from Santiago de Guatemala in the XVII Century the impression of trying to discover where are the high towers and city walls that surrounded the urban area, since the title of this city is Imperial City. But a few blocks later the main street of Coban stretches, city founded by the Dominicans in the XVI Century.\

It seems that the region had been conquest with the use of weapons in the first century of the XVI Century, but the Castilians didn't colonize it. Thanks to the political maneuvers of Fray Bartolome de las Casas, the Dominicans negotiated that if they didn't let any commander or military person arrive in the region for several decades, they would convert the residents in loyal servants of the Spanish crown and faithful Catholics. And the Dominican missionaries succeeded. Several of them accomplished to submit the people without any bloodshed and demonstrated that the message of universal love didn't needed to enter with violent means, as it usually happened in almost all the Western Indies and, in compensation, they were benefited with almost the exclusivity of the territory, they were the temporary landlords and spiritual leaders of Vera Paz.

When you arrive to the central park of the city the presence of the Order of Preachers is obvious, the cathedral looks arrogant with its Dominican emblem, the cross in black and white. The Manierist fa�ade rebuilt, is the only one that speaks of the glorious days of the XVI Century, with its mullion that doubles the main door.

It's a little bit late and we cannot go out for a walk, as we should have liked it, we are invited to dine in the Hostal de Do–a Victoria. When we get to the place the narrow and full street, the elevated boardwalk and the reduced door talk to us about the history of this big house. According to its owners this building dates from the XVI Century, its wide walls seem to confirm this fact, while the floor tiles, refurbished after some changes made a few years ago, help to support the idea.

They believe the house was built to serve as a convent for nuns, later it was transformed into the main house of a coffee plantation, where they also had banana and pepper trees, from which some examples remain. The last heir of the land, Rosalina Guerrero, daughter of Do–a Victoria, kept it intact since 1914. Rosalina's reasons were romantic, they say that on that year, dressed for her wedding, she was stood up in church and since then she decided to lock herself up in the big home. Thanks to this, the residence was not transformed. A portrait of Rosalina stands in the reception of the inn, where you can hear ghostly stories occurred in the corridors of the house. With or without any ghosts, the residence is very homely and comfortable and is a worthwhile place to visit while you are in the Imperial City.

Around six o'clock in the morning we decided to go on a journey around the old city. A different trace to the usual awaits the walkers. You won't found square blocks of houses; instead you will see an irregular diagram in the passageways of Coban. We were looking for El Calvario and a kind lady indicated the way. The street goes around a tall hill, filled with trees and the characteristic fog of the place which didn't left us see the top of the hill or the temple. At the end we gave up to the idea.

In spite of the early hour, many residents were opening their shops; from the buses lots of people came up and down, baskets of vegetables coming and going, and the buyers started to group in front of the small open shops.

We came up using the cobblestone street and when we got to the corner we saw the art deco building of the Municipality, which raises proudly as a witness of the days of President Jorge Ubico. In the sidewalk several runners awaited to go out and practice their favorite sport together as a group. The cabs offered their services and in front of the Cathedral the hymns that came out of it let us know that the mass had already started. Many ladies, with their traditional suites, hurried up in the corners to enter the temple.

The gazebo, in modernist style, interrupts the vision of the temple from the plaza, the vegetation also cuts short the sight of the monument to Manuel Tot, Father of the Independence. In front of the park, the portal of classicism inspiration shelters salesmen with the selling of handcrafts. When you cross the street you will find the bust of Fray Bartolome de las Casas, in memory to this Dominican celebrity. To the left the lonely streets suddenly low their level and show imperial houses that must have more than one secret to tell. Walking around some of the more hidden places formed by the alleys enlightens your imagination.

Some of them, with cobblestones and crowned with climbing vines that come out of the gardens, make us think of other narrations that should be told. It's precise to climb to the main street, and at that time the plaza is more crammed and offers a sample of the cultural richness of the region. Ladies dressed with their traditional suits, men with western outfits, the coming and going of vehicles, salesmen, shoeshiners, and even tourists. It is Sunday morning.

When we arrived to the level of the street we felt the breeze of the chipi chipi. One person we know told us: "It's the rain that wets the dummies". Making memory of his words, we took shelter in a candle shop, mad because we forgot the umbrella on the hotel. We crossed the street, and in another shop we bought a piece of nylon, we opened a hole for the head, like a gŸipil and we went out rapidly to take a cab.

Back in the hotel we prepare our stuff, planning on taking our breakfast on our way back to the Capital City. These have been two days in the city of Carlos V that have been worthwhile.