ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 14
An intelligent man is attempting to design a cash-free sustainable living environment. He lives on the shores of Guatemala's most beautiful lake, Atitlan. He finds Atitlan deeply spiritual. He intends generating his electricity through solar panels. Solar panels are cash costly.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
VALENTINE
ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 14
Erick and I visited the flower market early this morning: roses for Monica Smith and for Lucia. My youngest son, Jed, has organised flowers for Bernadette. I wish I was home and holding Bernadette in my arms.
Back home in England, I don't do parties. I don't do rooms with more than eight people. In the Americas I am working. Attending a party is only marginally more unpleasent than riding my Honda up a mountain in sleet.
We attended the opening of a painter's exhibition yesterday evening. The gallery was small and pleasantly empty but for the paintings. The celebration was on a large roof terrace and packed. Most of the packing was retiree North American. Erick and I arrived late. The wine had run out. People talked a great deal - mostly of each other.
Later we were seven for dinner at a Japanese restaurant. One of the seven was an early teenage boy. He wore a baseball cap. I am of a generation which considers wearing a hat indoors to be ill-mannered. Wearing a hat indoors is ill-mannered unless you are a woman. Baseball caps are a disease anywhere other than on a baseball field. Baseball is a disease anywhere other than North America. I suspect that North Americans wear baseball caps to bed and with the peak reversed so that they can nuzzle.
Yes, I know. I am an aged Brit Blimp...
AMONGST FRIENDS
manuel, building site
ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 13
I moved residence yesterday to Lucia's home in town. Erick is overseeing the building of a new house. Five pint-size Maya workers mix concrete for a terrace. A studio apartment for Lucia's son, Manuel, is complete. Manuel is in residence. A passionate and expert rock climber, Manuel graduated from University in Colorado and now works as a mountain, white-water and nature guide. He is more qualified than most and has a good Toyoto 4x4. He is also young and handsome which is no bad thing in a guide. Fluent in Spanish, English and French, he makes ideal company for an ascent of Antigua's volcanoes. He will also take clients to visit haciendas that are closed territory to the standard tourist. Call him on 50255269110 or check out his web site: www.wildguatemala.com
ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 13
I moved residence yesterday to Lucia's home in town. Erick is overseeing the building of a new house. Five pint-size Maya workers mix concrete for a terrace. A studio apartment for Lucia's son, Manuel, is complete. Manuel is in residence. A passionate and expert rock climber, Manuel graduated from University in Colorado and now works as a mountain, white-water and nature guide. He is more qualified than most and has a good Toyoto 4x4. He is also young and handsome which is no bad thing in a guide. Fluent in Spanish, English and French, he makes ideal company for an ascent of Antigua's volcanoes. He will also take clients to visit haciendas that are closed territory to the standard tourist. Call him on 50255269110 or check out his web site: www.wildguatemala.com
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
VISITING A PERSONAL HISTORY
the smith's antigua home, rose red on the right
ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 12
I visited Monica Smith today in Antigua Guatemala. Monica is 86 and frail. Monica's husband and my uncle Mark were business partners (both men are dead). My uncle Mark married Helen Rolfe. Helen's sister, Lilian, was a radio operator attached to the French Resistance during World War 2. She was caught and tortured by the Gestapo, sent to Ravensbruck and shot.
I found Monica rereading the Lilian Rolfe biography. We sat on a bench in the patio at Monica's Colonial home and looked at photographs. Lilian Rolfe was so young when caught, young and fresh and innocent and shared a remarkable beauty with her sister, Helen.
Monica spent time in Paris before World War 2. Her French remains fluent. Speaking the language brings back joyful memories. We sit together for an hour and admire the flowers and the changing sky above the patio and watch birds pick seeds from a bowl and chat in French of this and that – memories, mostly, and that we will meet next on a heavenly cloud...Though Thursday is Valentine's day. I will deliver roses.
ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 12
I visited Monica Smith today in Antigua Guatemala. Monica is 86 and frail. Monica's husband and my uncle Mark were business partners (both men are dead). My uncle Mark married Helen Rolfe. Helen's sister, Lilian, was a radio operator attached to the French Resistance during World War 2. She was caught and tortured by the Gestapo, sent to Ravensbruck and shot.
I found Monica rereading the Lilian Rolfe biography. We sat on a bench in the patio at Monica's Colonial home and looked at photographs. Lilian Rolfe was so young when caught, young and fresh and innocent and shared a remarkable beauty with her sister, Helen.
Monica spent time in Paris before World War 2. Her French remains fluent. Speaking the language brings back joyful memories. We sit together for an hour and admire the flowers and the changing sky above the patio and watch birds pick seeds from a bowl and chat in French of this and that – memories, mostly, and that we will meet next on a heavenly cloud...Though Thursday is Valentine's day. I will deliver roses.
BBC AND UNGLUED DENTURES
volcanoes at the end of the street
ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 12
I am to do a BBC live broadcast over the telephone at 1.30 AM – El Antiguo in La Antigua. I was in bed soon after 10 AM. I read a while, checked the alarm, turned off the bedside lamp. The alarm wakes me at 1.15 AM. I fumble for my spectacles; reach for the cup holding my dentures. Should I glue them in place? Surely there is no need?
The telephone rings. I answer.
Am I ready?
“Absolutely,” I reply - too late for glue.
I can think of nothing other than my teeth. Will they pop out in mid broadcast? Will I lose them under the bed? Or, while hunting for them, stamp them underfoot (something I have done in the past).
The interview progresses badly.
Obsessed by teeth, I lose clarity of diction. The interviewer blames a poor connection. The line is cut. I drop my dentures back into their bath and turn off the light. I am 75 and a failure. I can't sleep.
ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 12
I am to do a BBC live broadcast over the telephone at 1.30 AM – El Antiguo in La Antigua. I was in bed soon after 10 AM. I read a while, checked the alarm, turned off the bedside lamp. The alarm wakes me at 1.15 AM. I fumble for my spectacles; reach for the cup holding my dentures. Should I glue them in place? Surely there is no need?
The telephone rings. I answer.
Am I ready?
“Absolutely,” I reply - too late for glue.
I can think of nothing other than my teeth. Will they pop out in mid broadcast? Will I lose them under the bed? Or, while hunting for them, stamp them underfoot (something I have done in the past).
The interview progresses badly.
Obsessed by teeth, I lose clarity of diction. The interviewer blames a poor connection. The line is cut. I drop my dentures back into their bath and turn off the light. I am 75 and a failure. I can't sleep.
75th DINNER PARTY
ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 11
Lucia is a Guatemalan painter. Her husband, Erick, is French. We are friends of long standing. They are perfect companions for a 75th birthday dinner. My host drives me to their Antigua home. We drink a rum in front of an open fire, drive to a restaurant. The chef is French. The meat is excellent. So is the wine, an Argentinean Merlot Norton. We are served pastis on the house as an appetizer and anejo rum on the house to finish. My host is an habitual early riser and likes to be in bed by ten. End of party...
LOCUSTS WOULD BE PREFERABLE
antigua guatemala, first university in central america
ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 11
Spanish Conquistadors founded Antigua. It is a small compact town. Much of the architecture is 16th and 17th Century. Streets are cobbled. Bougainvillea spills over ochre and terracotta walls. Climate is ideal, permanent Spring. Three volcanoes surround the town. Though spectacular, volcanoes make uncomfortable bedfellows. They erupt. Added to which, Antigua has been devastated by earthquakes. Though rebuilt and lovely, the town now suffers a fresh plague. It is the number one tourist destination in Central America. In such quantity, locusts would be preferable.
SUICIDE RUN
plaza, antigua
HIGHWAY TO ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 11
All Guatemala's trade to the Atlantic passes through the port of Barios. I recall the road up through the hills to Guatemala City as a suicide run. The road has been widened and Guatemala City is bisected by a six-lane highway. I am a survivor of Venezuela. Guatemala is easy. I left Rio Dulce at shortly before midday, stopped midway for coffee and a bun, and am in Antigua soon after 5 PM.
My host in Antigua is a family connection. His house lies outside of town in a condo. He meets me in the plaza and leads me home in his Landrover.
MULATO LATINOS - WHAT DO THEY KNOW?
TO ANTIGUA GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 11
Today begins with incompetence: I leave my passport at Hacienda Tijax. I realise my error as I pass the police post at the south end of the bridge over the Rio Dulce. Back I go to the house, set off again and race a rain squall to a road-side shelter. A dozen men sit on wooden benches beneath a thatch roof. Two have bikes, one owns a scooter. The remainder wait for a bus.
Sun strikes the rain curtain as it speeds towards us. Dry tar is grey. Wet tar is black. Trees bend and leaves point down beneath the rain. The shelter shudders as the squall hits.
“Five minutes,” comments a young man in jeans, red T shirt and white trainers.
A man wearing a white plastic Stetson asks whether I am from the US or am I German?
“Britanico,” I reply. “More or less from the US. We have been sold by our Government to President Bush.”
“Bush is an ignorant man,” says the Stetson. “He has no education.”
“With much arogance,” says an older man. “Much arogance.”
The others nod and murmur agreement. What do they know? They are country folk. Mulato Latinos...
Today begins with incompetence: I leave my passport at Hacienda Tijax. I realise my error as I pass the police post at the south end of the bridge over the Rio Dulce. Back I go to the house, set off again and race a rain squall to a road-side shelter. A dozen men sit on wooden benches beneath a thatch roof. Two have bikes, one owns a scooter. The remainder wait for a bus.
Sun strikes the rain curtain as it speeds towards us. Dry tar is grey. Wet tar is black. Trees bend and leaves point down beneath the rain. The shelter shudders as the squall hits.
“Five minutes,” comments a young man in jeans, red T shirt and white trainers.
A man wearing a white plastic Stetson asks whether I am from the US or am I German?
“Britanico,” I reply. “More or less from the US. We have been sold by our Government to President Bush.”
“Bush is an ignorant man,” says the Stetson. “He has no education.”
“With much arogance,” says an older man. “Much arogance.”
The others nod and murmur agreement. What do they know? They are country folk. Mulato Latinos...
ENDLESS SEPARATIONS
view from tijax tower
HACIENDA TIJAX, RIO DULCE, GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 10
A 75th birthday is a biggy. I leave tomorrow for Antigua, first capital of Guatemala. Monica and Eugenio have offered a haven towards which I rode. Tonight we dine at the resort en famille. Eugenio's daughter has baked a birthday cake. Rather than a celebration, I suffer the sadness of one more parting. Such is this journey, seemingly endless separations, because of my age, probably final.
In the TIJAX BLOG, Eugenio claims that I have been an inspiration.
If so, I am humbled.
Eugenio is my inspiration.
Tijax demanded vision and is an ongoing achievement.
HACIENDA TIJAX, RIO DULCE, GUATEMALA: FEBRUARY 10
A 75th birthday is a biggy. I leave tomorrow for Antigua, first capital of Guatemala. Monica and Eugenio have offered a haven towards which I rode. Tonight we dine at the resort en famille. Eugenio's daughter has baked a birthday cake. Rather than a celebration, I suffer the sadness of one more parting. Such is this journey, seemingly endless separations, because of my age, probably final.
In the TIJAX BLOG, Eugenio claims that I have been an inspiration.
If so, I am humbled.
Eugenio is my inspiration.
Tijax demanded vision and is an ongoing achievement.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
STUPID OR UNFORTUNATE?
leg - 2006
arm - 2008
HACIENDA TIJAX, RIO DULCE, GUATEMALA:
FEBRUARY 10
I rested at Hacienda Tijax on my way south to Tierra del Fuego in 2006 and burnt my leg on th exhaust pipe.
I have stopped at Hacienda Tijax on my way north to enjoy my 75th birthday amongst friends.
Eugenio says that he does his best to look after me. I fell on the walkway across the mangrove last night. The rope saved me from an involunatry mud bath. However, I have a friction burn on my right arm.
MAN AT WORK
HACIENDA TIJAX, RIO DULCE, GUATEMALA:
FEBRUARY 10
I am almost up to date with my writing. The bar at Hacienda Tijax is a good studio.
WHITE GUESTS ONLY
HACIENDA TIJAX, RIO DULCE, GUATEMALA:
FEBRUARY 10
I can't connect to the internet on this machine up at the house. I am writing at the resort bar. Odd guests turn up looking for a room - or a nest.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)