Back at the meeting point, a jade museum, I had a chance to chat with the lady from Bradford. She taught English before moving to Mexico to become a Governess for a former president of Mexico, then moved to Guatemala when she got married. She’s very interested in Mayan history and culture, told me I have to go back to Mexico for some ruins.
I asked where I could buy some coffee, having had to pay for lunch in dollars and receiving 100 quetzales in change. The jade museum gave me coffee for free, a thimble full, but wanted $10 for a pound of coffee beans. I pay less than that for single plantation Guatemalan coffee delivered to my house so still have ten quid’s worth of local currency.
The bus back to the ship was late leaving but we still had over three hours to make the 90 minute journey. The ship would wait anyway, if it came to that. It didn’t come to that, the journey back quicker than the one out, the scenery hidden below overcast skies into which the volcanoes stretched up and disappeared.
The final ten minutes of the journey were hurt by the guide putting on a CD of some Mayan band playing ‘traditional’ music. If they had to put up with that six hundred years ago they must’ve been queuing up to volunteer to be the human sacrifice.
Checking the schedule I find out that tonight’s entertainer is the guy that carries a Rubik’s Cube with him the whole time, even to meals. He eats alone and fiddles with it as he eats. He’s also a magician.
Guatemala had little going for it. The mountains may be more interesting but the parts we saw were flat farmland, the economy entirely rural. Young men avoided eye contact, older men happy to look at you, responding well to an acknowledging nod. The women often wore bright colours, different patterns, sometimes just a multicoloured apron over dark trousers. Small children dressed the same as small children everywhere, the babies hidden from view beneath a patterned shawl used to carry them. I didn’t seen any older or teen boys, they must’ve been at school elsewhere, and their female peers all poured from a school gate at 12.30 wearing a catholic schoolgirl uniform. It’s the same the world over.
There were a lot of churches in Guatemala, but they also seem very engaged with their Mayan history. They seem to blend cultures with ease, but they’ve had a few centuries of practice.
Dinner was a horrible queue in the Lido, the two person table I’d reserved (by putting pudding and a book on it) claimed by another man when I eventually returned with hot food. He left too little space for me to read but didn’t want to talk either, so I ate quickly and left.
The magician was very good. He seemed to be enjoying himself too, although at times his act was slightly cruel. Maybe that’s needed for a good magician.
Post dinner I nipped up to the lido, drank water, walked the aft deck, saw the lights of what I’m choosing to believe is El Salvador. A delay while I did some laundry and in bed before 9.30, finally tired before 2am, the multiple late nights more of a factor than the 9km walked today.
More tomorrow, another new country. I could get addicted to that.