On living

The simplicity of life here is endearing.

We signed no formal contract for our house and paid no deposit. We moved in on the 15^th and after a bit of haggling, settled on a price. So we have to pay our first rent on the 15^th of next month. On our first day in the local market we had no change and the note that we did have was too big for the stall holders to change. 'Are you living in San Juan?' asked the girl at the vegetable stand - a tourist would not normally shop in the market as its not central, easily missed and the restaurants are far from expensive; San Juan in not touristy anyway. After an affirmative nod she swiftly said 'well the next time you come here you can pay me.' There was no sentiment of mistrust or doubt in her smile.

The shops are not decorated and all of them sell produce at almost exactly the same price the only difference being that some are closer to home and not all have fridges. Hardly anyone smokes; I think I have seen two people smoke in the three weeks we have been here. Alcohol is relatively very expensive and the few cantinas in the town are frequented by the few. Everybody has the time to greet you and the 'Buenas dias' is a more colourful and slower, drawn out chant of the Spanish version; it holds more sincerity about it too. The children respect their elders. They play out in the street without fear or fearing mothers.

People live on what surrounds them. The kids will often collect firewood and sell it or avocadoes from the forest. The women will often do the same and collect herbs. The local coffee and maize plantations sustain a large part of the population. Houses are made from local stone that some of the men spend the day chipping away at down by the river. Luis, Candelaria's husband, sells cement made from sand and grit from the dry river bed. He works his arse off to feed his 7 kids but the sense of family and cohesion is unquestionable. He disbelievingly asked us if it were true that in Europe people get divorced after a short time of marriage.

To get to work I get the pick-up in the centre of town. It's always waiting and will go when it has a few passengers or a short time passes. Even when the running water stopped as a result of storm damage people just got up a bit earlier to get water from higher up the mountain; no one really complained. The municipal police are there to help as opposed to control, and the civil police seem to keep to themselves.

The only problem I have with jogging in the morning is that I am out of breath (more than usual due to the humidity and hills) and find it difficult to greet everyone who greets me. I find that a shortened, 'Buenas' does the trick.

I suppose a fairly normal reaction to this writing from folk back home may be along the lines of 'yeah but where's your protection? Why is Guatemala considered unsafe? What about the social services and poverty? Or maybe this may be seen as a typical reaction to something new, the kind of euphoria that people feel when they come to a new place and only see the good. I grant you that I may be guilty of the later but I have already met many people who have either come back or stayed who uphold what I say. I think that that the danger and true poverty is in the capital.

As I was choosing some flowers in Barcelona a month or so before I came I explained to the florist that I was buying flowers to celebrate our trip to Guatemala, her comment was, 'ah, now that's a place where people haven't forgotten how to live.' I wholeheartedly agree and as my initial fears are fading I am becoming enchanted by San Juan de la Laguna. If these paragraphs imply that in my opinion we, in Europe and parts of the 1^st World, have somehow forgotten how to live, then good, that was my intention.

I still sleep with the machetes under the bed!