Mon Ami
A charming hotel in front of Lago Petén Itzá
Colors of the Caribbean
Fresh water with small schools of fish
A refreshing breeze and a breath of fresh air
How to leave a place so beautiful
The door to the dorm
A ceiling to the first level
But a door to the second
Above the stairs like an attic door
But twice the normal size
Made of dense, dense wood
To open, one must not use their head for it is much too heavy
Two hands pushing with ten times the force used for a usual, vertical door
To keep it open, a rope-pulley system
(Which I find out later has come undone)
When I complain to the owner, Don Santiago Billy, he huffed and puffed
Claiming it was a simple task
That the door opens with just the tip of your index finger
I huff and puff back that it's hard for a young lady like myself
In Spanish, but with a French accent, Santiago replies
"No, it's easy for a lady. Maybe it's difficult for a girl from San Diego"
I laugh and for the remainder of my stay Don Santiago continues to tease me
I don't want to go just yet
I struggle to open my door
But run down the stairs
"How hard would it be to change my ticket?"
No verbal response as Santiago makes moves for the phone
I ask again
He reminds me it's Sunday, the day of rest
Maybe his driver has gone to bed early
He ends his thought and starts his call
With a grin he says "It's okay. We are here to serve you."
He then leaves a facetious voicemail,
"Hey, so it turns out the girl is bothering me again. She doesn't want to leave tomorrow."
When the driver calls back minutes later, I breathe a sigh of relief
It's settled, I'll stay another night
"Feliz como un lombriz."
Huh?
"You're happy as a worm."
With big headphones on
Santiago cleans a small glass case
I sneak a peek
Tiny, colorful gems
"Marry me & I'll cover you in diamonds."
Oh, silly Santiago!
How I will miss you
Santiago's Neighbors
The neighbors of Santiago are young
"They throw parties and steal my internet and my dock!"
Bad vibes, says Santiago
Buena onda, I say
Two Guatemalans, two Argentines
An archaeologist, a writer
A juggler in a contemporary circus
That's to say, there's no tent
And the last guy, well I don't know his name
Nor his profession
I just know his smile
We swim, we smile
We dry off, we swim
We eat, we drink
We laugh, we play
A game of chess
The pieces not black vs. white
Spanish vs. Inca
He wins, I lose
We hug, we say goodbye
See you soon, see you in Nicaragua
Lake Lights
24 white lights
2 blinking red
1 small, glowing city in the distance
1 shining star
7PM
2 massive clouds iluminated by lightening
Like lightbulbs in lampshades
An airplane?
No, a shooting star!
Countless stars
9PM
Only the sun on the horizon
5:45AM
Bicycle Baker
Bakery on a bike arrived to the dock
Brown bread, carrot bread, banana bread
Bird tours by boat
Lou, the bicycling baker, talks politics
"Ya understand?"
He doesn't like Facebook
Nor "Tweeter"
Why? "Because they're spyin on us! Ya see?"
Facism, corruption, votes, oil
Corruption. Causes? Remedies?
"Take it to the streets! A good candidate will pop up."
We hope...
In the night, Lou's carrot bread was attacked
Maybe by rats or ants
Maybe both
The next day, in a town 30 minutes away
The bicycle baker is back!
He is at the window of my van
And he hands a carrot muffin through the window
"A gift for my friend"
This makes up for the creepy crawlers who thieved my bread in the night
A charming hotel in front of Lago Petén Itzá
Colors of the Caribbean
Fresh water with small schools of fish
A refreshing breeze and a breath of fresh air
How to leave a place so beautiful
The door to the dorm
A ceiling to the first level
But a door to the second
Above the stairs like an attic door
But twice the normal size
Made of dense, dense wood
To open, one must not use their head for it is much too heavy
Two hands pushing with ten times the force used for a usual, vertical door
To keep it open, a rope-pulley system
(Which I find out later has come undone)
When I complain to the owner, Don Santiago Billy, he huffed and puffed
Claiming it was a simple task
That the door opens with just the tip of your index finger
I huff and puff back that it's hard for a young lady like myself
In Spanish, but with a French accent, Santiago replies
"No, it's easy for a lady. Maybe it's difficult for a girl from San Diego"
I laugh and for the remainder of my stay Don Santiago continues to tease me
I don't want to go just yet
I struggle to open my door
But run down the stairs
"How hard would it be to change my ticket?"
No verbal response as Santiago makes moves for the phone
I ask again
He reminds me it's Sunday, the day of rest
Maybe his driver has gone to bed early
He ends his thought and starts his call
With a grin he says "It's okay. We are here to serve you."
He then leaves a facetious voicemail,
"Hey, so it turns out the girl is bothering me again. She doesn't want to leave tomorrow."
When the driver calls back minutes later, I breathe a sigh of relief
It's settled, I'll stay another night
"Feliz como un lombriz."
Huh?
"You're happy as a worm."
With big headphones on
Santiago cleans a small glass case
I sneak a peek
Tiny, colorful gems
"Marry me & I'll cover you in diamonds."
Oh, silly Santiago!
How I will miss you
Santiago's Neighbors
The neighbors of Santiago are young
"They throw parties and steal my internet and my dock!"
Bad vibes, says Santiago
Buena onda, I say
Two Guatemalans, two Argentines
An archaeologist, a writer
A juggler in a contemporary circus
That's to say, there's no tent
And the last guy, well I don't know his name
Nor his profession
I just know his smile
We swim, we smile
We dry off, we swim
We eat, we drink
We laugh, we play
A game of chess
The pieces not black vs. white
Spanish vs. Inca
He wins, I lose
We hug, we say goodbye
See you soon, see you in Nicaragua
Lake Lights
24 white lights
2 blinking red
1 small, glowing city in the distance
1 shining star
7PM
2 massive clouds iluminated by lightening
Like lightbulbs in lampshades
An airplane?
No, a shooting star!
Countless stars
9PM
Only the sun on the horizon
5:45AM
Bicycle Baker
Bakery on a bike arrived to the dock
Brown bread, carrot bread, banana bread
Bird tours by boat
Lou, the bicycling baker, talks politics
"Ya understand?"
He doesn't like Facebook
Nor "Tweeter"
Why? "Because they're spyin on us! Ya see?"
Facism, corruption, votes, oil
Corruption. Causes? Remedies?
"Take it to the streets! A good candidate will pop up."
We hope...
In the night, Lou's carrot bread was attacked
Maybe by rats or ants
Maybe both
The next day, in a town 30 minutes away
The bicycle baker is back!
He is at the window of my van
And he hands a carrot muffin through the window
"A gift for my friend"
This makes up for the creepy crawlers who thieved my bread in the night
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