A trip that
surprised me, Guatemala.
The impressive
volcanoes along Lake Atitlan, the serene beauty of Antigua, the former capital,
the mysterious Chichicastenango market and church. We were able to visit and
check that Catholics mingled Mayan rituals. Sacrifice of a small animal in the
church, mysterious fumes and all that we couldn’t perceive by ignorance. Since
the same entrance, yet on stairs, was perceived that it was very, very special.
The
archaeological ruins of Tikal, priceless, amid the jungle.
And the sheer
fun in Panajachel, a village north of the lake. Between bohemian and tourism.
The day we
arrived at the lake we went out at night to have a beer with a guide who knew
the place and advised us. Although we were very tired and the temptation was
sleeping ... probably one of the days I've laughed more.
But surely if
you propose a route through the country apart leaving a dot on the map, no one
will take you to Flores.
The name leads
to imagine a colonial village with low houses and all paved. But it was not ...
From the
capital, Guatemala, take a plane to head north, to the Lacandon jungle. The
north is a jungle area that has a path as something like a rectangle between
Mexico and Belize. In the jungle Lake Petén Itzá is. Majestic, green, cute
really. Heat, sound forest; strange sounds of birds, monkeys and other
critters. Very jungle.
The hotel was on the lake shore. Well prepared and comfortable bungalows. Had a reception decorated with tasteful and meeting place.
The hotel was on the lake shore. Well prepared and comfortable bungalows. Had a reception decorated with tasteful and meeting place.
In those coordinates there was nothing
but jungle. Yet commented on the dangers posed by the Guerrilla (this happened
a few years ago).
At some distance
to the north, the ruins of Tikal. And without interest, to the southwest, a few
kilometers, the town of Flores, home of some workers in the hotel.
It was almost
standard for Supertropics, visit the visitable, to go have a beer and learn
about the local population. There would also be well. After a talk with people
in the hotel reception and check that there were no taxis, they invited us to
go with them to the village, after their workday.
Supertropics Meeting
and all ready. About nine o'clock in the evening, either camaraderie and
scented clean clothes. That was going well.
Hotel van and
friends reception, spiced with a group of crazy youngs wanting to binge. We've had some similar
occurrence elsewhere.
Now we were
already dodging the potholes in the road to go to the "village". Pure
jungle. . . holes and more holes. . . the van looked like a fairground
attraction, now shake left and right now, knowing glances ... heard comments
from friends of the hotel.
I have always
felt uneasy about "questionable" situations like this. Especially
when you do not know nor place nor people do not know what to expect. And I'm
nervous ... A tickle in the stomach with the slope dinner digest.
In contrast,
although should already be accustomed, the troop was pure happiness, carelessness
and decision, or so it seemed.
There were no
light bulbs apart from the van. It seemed farther than expected, or simply
could not go faster ... These people seemed "legal". . .
Our questions
about the people, places to go, environment, population, etc., caused no
predictable responses. They did not explain too much, said to each other that
if the house this or that place. It seemed that did not fully understand our
concerns.
Until we saw a
little light. Indicating the proximity of human life. It was a sad bulb hanging
from the middle of the street. A dirt road with no sidewalks, huts rather than
houses, a dog sniffing, and suddenly and scaring us, a drunk adapted to the
place. Indian features, without much power balance and staring.
Braking and
swerving blast ...
You could not
see anyone else on the street. It was the only street? . . .
A little
further, a little more light on this sad place. A badly parked car with more
corrosion than paint, a light bulb beyond...
The van stopped near
a house that seemed bigger than the others. I expected to see, do not know why,
a sign of Coca Cola or beer indicating a bar or something. There was no
indication of public premises.
I looked at our
sherpas and didn’t seem puzzled. This was the "place" where we’d take
a Cuba-libre. We entered the room pushing a plastic curtain faded garnet-red
color, result of tropical sun.
In the first instance a room with a few plastic tables indicating signs of "bar" and a small bar without owner. We follow our guides across the room and stopped in a courtyard. Castilian military style barracks. Around the great courtyard was a multitude of green doors, all equal, with the same distance between them. The place was also quite dark and could not see too many details. We had still not seen anyone.
A few yards
going into that courtyard was a brighter place, like a small gazebo with chairs
and a table. We settled there. At least, be there gave a sense of protection
missed abroad.
Finally came a
very friendly gentleman who asked us for a drink. Mainly we asked Cuba Libre.
He served them in glasses, and as usual in the area, alcohol poor.
Our friends
wanted to tell jokes, and the group, or at least I, needed some relaxation
therapy.
The mood is different
there. In each location the mood is different. You just want to laugh by
laughing, by drink or education, but sometimes is difficult to find grace or the
understanding the joke you've told.
"When in
Rome do as the Romans". They repeated drink and we had to be educated.
Follow local traditions were a sign of education, and we were very, very
polite. As educated as they could resist.
When it seemed a regular night would, seasoned in a strange place an indefinable village with no chance of Local dive, crossed before us, about 5 meters, a girl covered only with a towel that seemed to come from showering.
When it seemed a regular night would, seasoned in a strange place an indefinable village with no chance of Local dive, crossed before us, about 5 meters, a girl covered only with a towel that seemed to come from showering.
We looked
surprised. Our friends told us that she was exhibiting to us.
This was a
brothel in the style of the area! In fact, in such an isolated place and so
depressed, should be places like this, but we had not thought we would go. I
guess our colleagues thought that our intention was that, since they had not
much understanding "mobilization" to have a beer.
Well, this
became the meeting nice. After a while of drinks, or at least to me it seemed,
played back to the hotel and get some sleep. The next day would be tired and we
had to visit Tikal.
We went outside
the premises and the hotel people told us that they were left to sleep in the
village.
We had to taxi
back? There were taxis?.
Our friends told
us they would do some management and walked around a bit by the
"center" of town. There were people on the street, leaning against
the walls of the houses, with dubious appearance. They looked like a porn film is
viewed; fix, undisguised and with desire.
My feeling /
uptake was pure fear environment. The adrenaline was pouring out.
It seemed that they
had found a taxi, but that people were still talking to each other
suspiciously.
They had found a
taxi but distrusted. They confessed that they thought we didn’t arrive alive at
the hotel if we went back alone. Life was nothing there and not needed too much
for killing.
I collapsed with
those words. The ears were burning, my legs were shaking and I promised that if
we returned to the hotel would not do stupid things like that (holy innocence).
I had a sharp prick in the stomach and the possible effects of alcohol had
mysteriously disappeared.
The rumor of
fear clouded my mind. It was a time when the brain changes the frequency of the
waves. The sensations are different, pure and where the will to survive passes
over other options.
I guess my head
rushed too fast and intuition of danger had done the rest. Our friends decided
to take us back to the hotel in the van.
Luckily they
were good people. I am not aware of lap time. I remember my body was changing
from a semi-catatonic state to a state of great receptivity. The adrenaline had
broken my body control. The legs would not respond. Upon arrival, the vision of
the cabins looked like the vision of the Holy Grail. Nothing mattered. No
matter sleep, fatigue, whatever.
Although sounded
exaggerated, we saved life, or I had lived as such.
I entered the cabin
I bent down and kissed the ground. Safe Zone!
JP
