Guatemala City was exactly as described in all the guides I have read: dirty, dangerous, and dull. In the few short days I have been in the country, I have heard countless frightening tales of that city from other travellers, from stumbling across a dead man in the street to being bribed by police armed to the hilt. So I think I made the right decision to get out of there as quickly as possible, heading to the old colonial capital Antigua.
Antigua is a fairtytale city, brightly painted houses lining cobbled streets along which horse and carts trundle, set in the basin of three volcanoes rising majestically into the slate-coloured sky.
It has an eery feel to it, when you escape the tourists (of which there are many, especially Americans, in the Parque Central) by walking to the edges of town and entering the numerous crumbling pieces of architecture that have designated this city a UNESCO heritage site. In one old convent I found myself completely alone, with stunning views through gateways and plantlife creeping out of cracks in the softened stone. But it did not feel peaceful. Even here there is an ominous air of danger, numerous muggings in the past being dampened by the installment of the ´tourist police´ in 2005: guards armed with shotguns appear on streetcorners, at the bustling market, in church doorways, even guarding deliveries of water to shopkeepers. I did not feel in danger at any time, locals being more friendly than ever, but it certainly gave you a heightened alertness, a look-over-your-shoulder before walking down a street alone. In a way I found this refreshing; at home I take my safety for granted all the time when perhaps I shouldn´t. In the evening I had an intersting debate with some American college students and an Irish teacher over the gun law. Of course, all we concluded was that gun use in a country is largely shaped by its´past experiences, its´stability both economically and politically, and its current culture. Here it is every man for himself, and if the muggers and police have guns, then you want a gun also. It is simply self-protectionism, which all of us are guilty of. It is just a shame that they perceive they have to resort to violence in order to survive. The argument became rather heated, predictably the Americans pro-weapons and us anti-, especially the more of the local ´fire water´and ´pollo´beer was consumed...
To clear my head, the next day I joined a trek up one of the volcanoes, Volcan de Pacaya, (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_3h16HOPgXQ) which I had heard was rather active but offered stunning views across to the other mountains in the region. So we set off in the drizzle, which turned to a downpour and eventually bullet-sized drops that hammered the roof of the van. Luckily we rose up through the clouds into a fine mist hugging the emerald slopes, and tumbled out at the base to be proffered walking sticks chopped down by local children. We declined, but soon wished we hadn´t as we began to ascend the steep, slippery path accompanied by shouts of ´taxi taxi´from horsemen. But nothing could pervade thje silence and stillness of our surroundings, suddenly rising up out of dense vegetation to a clearing with indescribable vistas across to another volcano, its peak proudly jutting out of the cotton-wool clouds and spewing out toxic, angry black fumes. We skidded our way down the steepest ´black run´of magma I have ever seen before clambering over recently flowing lava forma
tions, a lonely moon landscape, to reach the still flowing glowing molten lava a little higher up. We toasted marsghmallows in the angry embers, the most successful barbeque I have ever seen. The air filling my heaving lungs was chill, but the ground beneath our vulnerable feet was burning only a foot below, blasting us with hot air that in some places you simply had to get away from, your retinas feeling scarred by the fire and from the incredible views. It was breathtaking and exhilirating, a real show of what danger is. I am much more frightened of mother nature than men with guns.
In Guatemala, Health and Safety does not exist. As humans, we must learn to trust our instincts and look out for our own wellbeing, whether it be standing on an active volcano, on a busy foreign street, or simply going about our everyday business.
Antigua is a fairtytale city, brightly painted houses lining cobbled streets along which horse and carts trundle, set in the basin of three volcanoes rising majestically into the slate-coloured sky.
It has an eery feel to it, when you escape the tourists (of which there are many, especially Americans, in the Parque Central) by walking to the edges of town and entering the numerous crumbling pieces of architecture that have designated this city a UNESCO heritage site. In one old convent I found myself completely alone, with stunning views through gateways and plantlife creeping out of cracks in the softened stone. But it did not feel peaceful. Even here there is an ominous air of danger, numerous muggings in the past being dampened by the installment of the ´tourist police´ in 2005: guards armed with shotguns appear on streetcorners, at the bustling market, in church doorways, even guarding deliveries of water to shopkeepers. I did not feel in danger at any time, locals being more friendly than ever, but it certainly gave you a heightened alertness, a look-over-your-shoulder before walking down a street alone. In a way I found this refreshing; at home I take my safety for granted all the time when perhaps I shouldn´t. In the evening I had an intersting debate with some American college students and an Irish teacher over the gun law. Of course, all we concluded was that gun use in a country is largely shaped by its´past experiences, its´stability both economically and politically, and its current culture. Here it is every man for himself, and if the muggers and police have guns, then you want a gun also. It is simply self-protectionism, which all of us are guilty of. It is just a shame that they perceive they have to resort to violence in order to survive. The argument became rather heated, predictably the Americans pro-weapons and us anti-, especially the more of the local ´fire water´and ´pollo´beer was consumed...
To clear my head, the next day I joined a trek up one of the volcanoes, Volcan de Pacaya, (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_3h16HOPgXQ) which I had heard was rather active but offered stunning views across to the other mountains in the region. So we set off in the drizzle, which turned to a downpour and eventually bullet-sized drops that hammered the roof of the van. Luckily we rose up through the clouds into a fine mist hugging the emerald slopes, and tumbled out at the base to be proffered walking sticks chopped down by local children. We declined, but soon wished we hadn´t as we began to ascend the steep, slippery path accompanied by shouts of ´taxi taxi´from horsemen. But nothing could pervade thje silence and stillness of our surroundings, suddenly rising up out of dense vegetation to a clearing with indescribable vistas across to another volcano, its peak proudly jutting out of the cotton-wool clouds and spewing out toxic, angry black fumes. We skidded our way down the steepest ´black run´of magma I have ever seen before clambering over recently flowing lava forma
tions, a lonely moon landscape, to reach the still flowing glowing molten lava a little higher up. We toasted marsghmallows in the angry embers, the most successful barbeque I have ever seen. The air filling my heaving lungs was chill, but the ground beneath our vulnerable feet was burning only a foot below, blasting us with hot air that in some places you simply had to get away from, your retinas feeling scarred by the fire and from the incredible views. It was breathtaking and exhilirating, a real show of what danger is. I am much more frightened of mother nature than men with guns.In Guatemala, Health and Safety does not exist. As humans, we must learn to trust our instincts and look out for our own wellbeing, whether it be standing on an active volcano, on a busy foreign street, or simply going about our everyday business.
No comments:
Post a Comment