Fuego del cielo
Dear All,
After almost a month of Central American life, I thought it finally time to send out a massive informational email. Perhaps the recent natural occurrences have had something to do with it, but I realized today that many of you don’t even know that I’m out of the country. So, here goes.
All media frenzied opinions to the contrary, the eruption of a nearby volcano is not as exciting as one may imagine. Two days ago the volcano closest to my current home city of Antigua, erupted. Pacaya has been active for a long while, and there are plenty of places to see hot red lava oozing out from under the rocks. Tours often hike up the mountainside, and it is not uncommon to see smoke roiling around inside the crater. The rocks are hot, the air is hot, and a few years ago I humped up some marshmallows to roast over the hot air and watch as they caught fire from what appeared to be mid-air. I was informed the other day that marshmallows are now sold on the route to the volcano, along with horses for taxis, and a walking stick. All for 5Q.
Anyway, all this to say, Pacaya is active, and is a volcano, and is a toured site. So, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that when she finally erupted, chaos would ensue.
Thursday around 3pm, I was in my room reading a book when I felt the house tremble. I thought it was an earthquake, and I looked out the window to see if any buildings were falling down. None were, so I went back to my book. A few hours later, during dinner, I noticed that President Colom was on the news giving a statement. The bomberos (firemen) appeared soon after, and then the footage of the villages being evacuated. No one wanted to leave, believing (rightly) that once their village was empty that their houses and possessions would be looted. The police were called in.
Friday at school was normal. Lots of volcanic evacuees were in Antigua, but so far it was business as usual. I had some pretty terrible news on Thursday night concerning my host family, and Friday morning wasn’t much better with some personal issues, but all in all, things were good. My friend Rachel came in town that night, and I was excited to see her. We went out to a bar called El Muro, met some trekkers, talked to old friends, had a lovely 8 block walk in the rain. Ed and Toby told great stories about Antigua living, Ali, Rach, Thy and I shook off the rain and the soot and listened to the spanish guitar, drank Gallos and ate empanadas. My school friend Eddie showed up much later, and we had a lovely time yelling about the BBC and FoxNews. Never did we think that Pacaya’s firestorm would seriously impact our weekend. And, it might not have, had there not also followed a tropical storm. Agatha.
Saturday morning Rach and I met at a café on the Parque Central. A few other friends braved the storm which had started the evening before, but had steadily gotten worse over the morning. We sat in the cafe and waited for our friend Ali who had slogged out to the travel agency to dispute her Cuban entry visa. She doubted its validity, and, as we found out later, rightly so. Too brightly colored, as it turned out. Ali never showed however, and Rach and I spent the morning watching our second 500 year flood in 4 weeks. The cars made a valiant effort to stay out of the center cobblestone river, but most didn’t make it. A few engines stalled. Many of the tuks tuks gave up entirely. The city was under attack again, by water.
It wasn’t until 6pm when Rachel and I headed out to meet another friend, Alicia, that we found out there was a tropical storm going on. The whole afternoon had been spent hanging out in my room, watching episodes of Band of Brothers, occasionally venturing up to the flooded roof where poor Claudio the Rooster was huddled under the pila (cement clothes wash basin) and looking over the roof wall into the disgusting housing projects slash dump next door. My room’s ceiling had started to leak, so Rach and I moved the bed to a different spot, only to have two other leaks appear over the bed again. (I’ve given up the bed moving and am now living under three leaks and a flooded windowpane. I have one bucket to catch the worst of the leaks though, so there’s that.)
Going to meet Alicia, we ran into my flatmate Robin on her way back in from emailing. She was in an uproar because the airport, which had previously been 2 days closed due to the Pacaya Volcanic Ash Cloud, was now 5 days closed due to Tropical Storm Agatha. About this time Rachel and I decided it was a good idea to go to the movie. Except that Alicia called, saying that the restaurant was closed and the movie no longer showing. We trekked out anyway, to meet up with her and to go check on Rachel’s things in the hostel, which we assumed was under water. Also to find our other friend Ali, who I thought had most likely fled Guatemala. Even after being robbed at knifepoint on the beach in Mexico, strangely Ali just wanted to get back there. The rain was intense however, but not as bad as the previous evening’s jaunt to El Muro. Unfortunately, with the road also flooded, the rain was now not only going down, but also coming up.
Once back at the hostel, we found Ali who was upset over her gipped Cuban visa. Thy was also upset, since her boyfriend had been stuck in El Salvador for two days and there seemed no chance of his ever getting through. Rachel’s stuff was dry, mostly, and so we decided it was a lovely time for dinner. Just then, as if on cue, the city’s power blew. Antigua was dark, as were the surrounding mountain towns. The only lights came from the car headlights and a few backpackers headlamps. Still, dinner was on our mind and it was only 7pm. We headed out into the dark.
A few blocks later, I think we all realized that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to try and find food in a city with no power. Just when we were all about to consider turning back and eating Ali’s leftover chips, I noticed a flicker of candlelight. We turned towards the source, and discovered an open door and three girls huddled around a bar menu. A few moments later, we had our own candle and menu. The place served pizza and beer and was staffed by friendly guys who were used to serving food in the darkness. While we asked for our food, and I sent a quick text to my family to let them know we were alive and well, the place had been peppered with lovely 3 inch votives, on the bar, on the walls, on the floor and one in front of each of us. We ate a perfectly grilled Margherita pizza, talked and laughed and told stories, and somewhere along the way the power came back on. A walk home in the rain with faintly lit streets was all I needed to make it a great evening.
Tomorrow we meet for coffee at Fernando’s. After a volcanic eruption and a tropical storm, I don’t know what’s left to explode. Although I suppose the fireworks I heard on my walk home tonight are a great indicator of this town’s spirit. Tomorrow awaits.
My love to all,
Miriam
(PS - This was never sent out because internet was spotty.)
After almost a month of Central American life, I thought it finally time to send out a massive informational email. Perhaps the recent natural occurrences have had something to do with it, but I realized today that many of you don’t even know that I’m out of the country. So, here goes.
All media frenzied opinions to the contrary, the eruption of a nearby volcano is not as exciting as one may imagine. Two days ago the volcano closest to my current home city of Antigua, erupted. Pacaya has been active for a long while, and there are plenty of places to see hot red lava oozing out from under the rocks. Tours often hike up the mountainside, and it is not uncommon to see smoke roiling around inside the crater. The rocks are hot, the air is hot, and a few years ago I humped up some marshmallows to roast over the hot air and watch as they caught fire from what appeared to be mid-air. I was informed the other day that marshmallows are now sold on the route to the volcano, along with horses for taxis, and a walking stick. All for 5Q.
Anyway, all this to say, Pacaya is active, and is a volcano, and is a toured site. So, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that when she finally erupted, chaos would ensue.
Thursday around 3pm, I was in my room reading a book when I felt the house tremble. I thought it was an earthquake, and I looked out the window to see if any buildings were falling down. None were, so I went back to my book. A few hours later, during dinner, I noticed that President Colom was on the news giving a statement. The bomberos (firemen) appeared soon after, and then the footage of the villages being evacuated. No one wanted to leave, believing (rightly) that once their village was empty that their houses and possessions would be looted. The police were called in.
Friday at school was normal. Lots of volcanic evacuees were in Antigua, but so far it was business as usual. I had some pretty terrible news on Thursday night concerning my host family, and Friday morning wasn’t much better with some personal issues, but all in all, things were good. My friend Rachel came in town that night, and I was excited to see her. We went out to a bar called El Muro, met some trekkers, talked to old friends, had a lovely 8 block walk in the rain. Ed and Toby told great stories about Antigua living, Ali, Rach, Thy and I shook off the rain and the soot and listened to the spanish guitar, drank Gallos and ate empanadas. My school friend Eddie showed up much later, and we had a lovely time yelling about the BBC and FoxNews. Never did we think that Pacaya’s firestorm would seriously impact our weekend. And, it might not have, had there not also followed a tropical storm. Agatha.
Saturday morning Rach and I met at a café on the Parque Central. A few other friends braved the storm which had started the evening before, but had steadily gotten worse over the morning. We sat in the cafe and waited for our friend Ali who had slogged out to the travel agency to dispute her Cuban entry visa. She doubted its validity, and, as we found out later, rightly so. Too brightly colored, as it turned out. Ali never showed however, and Rach and I spent the morning watching our second 500 year flood in 4 weeks. The cars made a valiant effort to stay out of the center cobblestone river, but most didn’t make it. A few engines stalled. Many of the tuks tuks gave up entirely. The city was under attack again, by water.
It wasn’t until 6pm when Rachel and I headed out to meet another friend, Alicia, that we found out there was a tropical storm going on. The whole afternoon had been spent hanging out in my room, watching episodes of Band of Brothers, occasionally venturing up to the flooded roof where poor Claudio the Rooster was huddled under the pila (cement clothes wash basin) and looking over the roof wall into the disgusting housing projects slash dump next door. My room’s ceiling had started to leak, so Rach and I moved the bed to a different spot, only to have two other leaks appear over the bed again. (I’ve given up the bed moving and am now living under three leaks and a flooded windowpane. I have one bucket to catch the worst of the leaks though, so there’s that.)
Going to meet Alicia, we ran into my flatmate Robin on her way back in from emailing. She was in an uproar because the airport, which had previously been 2 days closed due to the Pacaya Volcanic Ash Cloud, was now 5 days closed due to Tropical Storm Agatha. About this time Rachel and I decided it was a good idea to go to the movie. Except that Alicia called, saying that the restaurant was closed and the movie no longer showing. We trekked out anyway, to meet up with her and to go check on Rachel’s things in the hostel, which we assumed was under water. Also to find our other friend Ali, who I thought had most likely fled Guatemala. Even after being robbed at knifepoint on the beach in Mexico, strangely Ali just wanted to get back there. The rain was intense however, but not as bad as the previous evening’s jaunt to El Muro. Unfortunately, with the road also flooded, the rain was now not only going down, but also coming up.
Once back at the hostel, we found Ali who was upset over her gipped Cuban visa. Thy was also upset, since her boyfriend had been stuck in El Salvador for two days and there seemed no chance of his ever getting through. Rachel’s stuff was dry, mostly, and so we decided it was a lovely time for dinner. Just then, as if on cue, the city’s power blew. Antigua was dark, as were the surrounding mountain towns. The only lights came from the car headlights and a few backpackers headlamps. Still, dinner was on our mind and it was only 7pm. We headed out into the dark.
A few blocks later, I think we all realized that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to try and find food in a city with no power. Just when we were all about to consider turning back and eating Ali’s leftover chips, I noticed a flicker of candlelight. We turned towards the source, and discovered an open door and three girls huddled around a bar menu. A few moments later, we had our own candle and menu. The place served pizza and beer and was staffed by friendly guys who were used to serving food in the darkness. While we asked for our food, and I sent a quick text to my family to let them know we were alive and well, the place had been peppered with lovely 3 inch votives, on the bar, on the walls, on the floor and one in front of each of us. We ate a perfectly grilled Margherita pizza, talked and laughed and told stories, and somewhere along the way the power came back on. A walk home in the rain with faintly lit streets was all I needed to make it a great evening.
Tomorrow we meet for coffee at Fernando’s. After a volcanic eruption and a tropical storm, I don’t know what’s left to explode. Although I suppose the fireworks I heard on my walk home tonight are a great indicator of this town’s spirit. Tomorrow awaits.
My love to all,
Miriam
(PS - This was never sent out because internet was spotty.)
love this post...i just can not stop reading. love viviane
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