I’m feeling a little bit like a Christmas parcel myself at present – being carried along from one brief resting place to another, passed through the hands of a series of hospitable strangers in accordance with plans that I can only hope are going to work out. If they do I will reach my final festive destination this evening – Simon (Anna’s brother)’s house in San Salvador.
Simon (who is a teacher in El Salvador) actually got married a few days ago and is currently on honeymoon with his new Salvadorena wife, Esme. However, as I think I mentioned in my last entry, he has very generously said I can stay in his place over the holidays, using it as a base to explore the country that he now calls home. Arrangements have been made for a friend of his called Stuart to pick me up when I get off my bus from Guatemala City, and Simon has also given me the names and numbers of his neighbours - Mel and Chris – so I can get in touch with them. Simon, Stuart, Mel, Chris - all the kinds of sound, reliable British names that make me think of home! I hope they will be good company and, although I don’t want to impose on any pre-made plans that they might have for Christmas, it would be nice if I could spend some of the festive period with them.
Having said that, I have mentally prepared myself for the fact that this is not going to be a normal Christmas for me – and if I end up spending it on my own, so be it. It might actually be quite luxurious, you know. I’m still working my way through ‘100 Years Of Solitude’, ‘On Becoming A Person’, and that anthology of short stories in Spanish given to me by the Mexican Couchsurfer, Carlos. Maybe I can get my hands on a nice bottle of wine and just get stuck into some reading (and will they have cheesy Christmas films on TV in El Salvador too, I wonder?!). I’ll just have to see what the options are... Of course, I’ll miss my family lots and I keep thinking back to last year’s Christmas on Well Street – midnight mass in my local church in Hackney, stuffing the turkey with my Dad while listening to carols on the radio, the tiny fridge in my flat groaning with brandy butter, bucks fizz and Brussels sprouts (goodness knows what Christmas dinner will be for me this year – probably some variation on rice, beans and tortillas?!)… However, thanks to the wonders of modern technology, the folks back home won’t be too far away. We’ve agreed to schedule in a Christmas Day Skype conversation through which my live broadcast to them from El Salvador will be received with the same importance as Her Majesty’s seasonal address back in the UK (just keeping my fingers crossed that the internet connection will be good)! It’s a shame I won’t get to play Monopoly, eat too many Quality Street, watch ‘Only Fools And Horses’ re-runs, or go for a Christmas morning walk along Stokes Bay. Nevermind, though, I’m sure I’ll find other suitable diversions.
Although Latin America has been shoving Christmas reminders in my face pretty much ever since Halloween and Day Of The Dead passed, it wasn’t really until I arrived in Antigua on Sunday night that I began to feel properly festive. Another elegant, artsy, and sophisticated colonial town (it reminded me somewhat of Oaxaca), Antigua’s climate was cool, and, come nightfall, its main plaza was bedecked with slightly more tasteful Christmas lights than the tacky inflatable Santas that I have been seeing everywhere else. That night I stayed in ‘La Casa Amarillo’ (The Yellow House), which was a real gem of a hostel with atmospheric Guatemalan décor, a delicious inclusive fresh fruit breakfast, hot showers, free internet and lovely friendly staff. After dropping my bags off, I went out to explore a little. I ended up stopping for a few beers in the ‘Rainbow Reading Room’ – a renowned slightly bohemian bookstore/café/bar where they have live music and a bonfire every night. Although there was nothing especially Christmassy about it, the cosy atmosphere did give me a taste of that warm feeling that you get back home on wintery evenings when snuggling up indoors from the cold.
Yesterday was my only full day in Antigua (a place that really should have merited a bit more of my time). However, rather than putting pressure on myself to see all that the town had to offer, I allowed myself a day of just wandering around and seeing where the mood took me. I managed a few of the main ‘sights’ in the morning – the intricately decorated yellow and white colonial church of La Merced, and the cloistered nunnery of Las Capuchines (where Spanish nuns who settled in Antigua in the 18th century lived a highly ascetic life quite literally shut off from the rest of the world). After that, though, I dedicated myself to a pastime that I’ve not really indulged for a while now – shopping! Although, of course, I’ve had to buy practical things like toothpaste, soap-dishes, and socks over the past couple of months, I haven’t really treated myself to anything nice for ages. Knowing that my Mum had dropped a little financial Christmas present into my bank account, instructing me to buy myself some ‘stocking fillers’, I went off to follow her command and got myself a colourful Guatemalan scarf, some new shoes (to replace the ones that were literally falling off my feet with wear and tear!), and a small fabric covered notebook and camera case (the vibrant woven textiles you get here are lovely - just my cup of tea). I then spent the rest of the afternoon in a café with Wi-fi sending some Christmas e-mails and Facebook messages – not a very ‘Guatemalan’ thing to do but, nevermind, it felt important. Besides, from what I have read, heard and gathered, Antigua is not the most authentically Guatemalan place. Its chocolate-box views, quaint cobbled streets, and swollen ex-pat/language school populace does, indeed, make it seem rather idealised and privileged (especially, say, in comparison to some of the rougher towns I passed through on the drive down from the lake on Sunday).
It was later that evening that I was afforded some unique insight into Antigua’s more affluent and aspirant non-native community. This was all thanks to meeting up with Katie, the Gosport girl who married a Guatemalan, who I was put in touch with through my Mum’s friend, Jackie. Katie met me by the fountain in the Parque Central at 6.30pm and explained that she was taking me off to a dinner party hosted by an American friend who runs some kind of NGO here (helping to improve levels of literacy amongst children in nearby indigenous Mayan villages). At the host’s beautiful colonial ‘casa’ there were 7 of us for dinner, including Katie and myself, and the other guests (all Americans, except for a woman from New Zealand) seemed to be career-change charity workers and yoga teachers - two of whom had faraway former lives as New York ad-execs.
It seemed that they had all been drawn to Antigua on account of its beauty, its friendly ex-pat population, and the opportunities that it offered them in terms of making a difference to the lives of the less fortunate. Most of them had lived there for a couple of years and said they could see themselves sticking around for the long-term. Katie (although she mentioned occasional thoughts of returning to the UK) seemed to feel the same. Throughout the evening I learned more about how she met her Guatemalan husband, Ricardo, a couple of years ago, and how she has subsequently settled into life running a farm and horse-training school out here (horses seem to be her passion). She now has a sweet (and bi-lingual) 4-year old daughter called Tati and seems to have put her roots down in this country.
So staying at Katie and Ricardo’s place last night was a something of a treat. They had a gorgeous home and I had the comfiest night’s sleep I’d had in a long time on the softest, loveliest bed. I also enjoyed a wonderful warm power-shower this morning, and breakfast in their courtyard looking out onto views of Volcan Pacaya! Ricardo then kindly gave me a lift to Guatemala City and helped me fix up my bus journey to San Salvador. I’d heard a lot of negative stuff about Guatemala City (robbery, crime, vice – the usual for Central American capitals) but he explained that the bus I was taking left from a safe and very smart part of town, and that I would be OK killing time until its departure wandering around the local shopping malls and restaurants. Therefore, that’s how I spent my morning. It was something of an eye-opener, and it made me realise even more, as I watched flash sports cars circle round, and saw people with designer shopping bags, that Guatemala does have its pockets of wealth and privilege. And I kind of bought into that for a while, I suppose, taking the opportunity to sit in an Applebee’s American diner, sipping a fruit smoothie, and typing up this entry for my blog on my laptop. Time has pressed on, though, and I now ought to log off and head to the bank to change my remaining quetzales (won’t be sorry to get rid of them!) into US dollars (the currency of El Salvador – at least that will feel a little more familiar). Then it will be on the bus and off to another border-crossing and yet another land...
|  | 
|
