A Loud Crack in Guatemala City
At 10:30 am we
stepped out of the Royal Palace lobby onto the “Sexta” avenue and strolled by the
two churches to our left, the little one, RectorÃa, and the large San Francisco en the corner of 11th
street staffed by the Franciscan Friars -if you call them padres, “priests,” they will tell you politely, and humbly, that
they are frailes. We paused for a
while and took photos of the imposing, garrison-style building on the next
corner and proceeded past a couple of blocks of nondescript clothing stores
with more or less the same jeans, shoes and blouses.
Ahead of us
loomed the Calvario Church, Nuestra
Senora de los Remedios, Our Lady of Mercy, which was surrounded by walls of
ugly stalls which isolated and spoiled the church’s image. There, Eduardo had
been baptized forty years ago. We paid our respects inside the rather gaunt
sanctuary decorated in white and black. Huge statues on Holy Week floats stood in
the aisles waiting. Above the altar sat a beautiful wood carving of the crucified
Jesus.
Slightly ahead
lay the Parque de la Concordia, a
block-sized square, raised above the street level, crisscrossed by footpaths
and stone benches for the weary traveler and star-crossed lovers of all ages,
from school teens, through office-workers to mature couples, snuggling together
on this unusually cold day.
As we entered the
square suddenly a loud crack rang out. Aura wondered, “sounds like a gun shot.”
Hardly a car back-firing. Too early for fireworks. People did not move. We kept
exploring and enjoying the lovely square not knowing what to expect. We had
been warned a hundred times about the danger in Guatemala. But nobody looked
concerned or disturbed.
From behind us the crack rang out again. A pack of friendly goats ran along beside us. And there appeared the culprit. The goatherd with a long whip which he cracked loudly in the cold air. The crack moved his pack along and announced to the public that there was goat milk for sale. Aura encouraged me to try it. We produced 5 Quetzals. The very non-threatening goatherd pulled out a plastic cup from under his jacket and proceeded to milk one of the nanny-goats. He offered me the frothy cup. It was warm and rich. He smiled. “Muy rica, verdad?” “Yes, first time. Absolutely delicious!”
From behind us the crack rang out again. A pack of friendly goats ran along beside us. And there appeared the culprit. The goatherd with a long whip which he cracked loudly in the cold air. The crack moved his pack along and announced to the public that there was goat milk for sale. Aura encouraged me to try it. We produced 5 Quetzals. The very non-threatening goatherd pulled out a plastic cup from under his jacket and proceeded to milk one of the nanny-goats. He offered me the frothy cup. It was warm and rich. He smiled. “Muy rica, verdad?” “Yes, first time. Absolutely delicious!”
