Yeah Im back
Wassup wit it, vanilla face?
I'm writing on Day 3 of 7 in Antigua, Guatemala. Antigua is a tourist-hub and the old capital of Guatemala. The capital was moved to Guatemala City after they grew tired of rebuilding Antigua, which is regularly barraged by Earthquakes and Volcanic Activity. There was a 6.2 which woke me out of drunken sleep just last night. I recall a fleeting dialogue in my head: what do I do if there's an earthquake right now? I really hope that's just a large truck rumbling by. If it's an Earthquake, Ill just do whatever everyone else is doing. That's not a good plan. Oh well... *falls asleep*
Day One, I arrived into Guatemala city at about 7AM. I flew overnight direct from JFK. NYC was a mixed bag. I managed to lose my hat, my sleeping bag, and the spanish language novel I was reading. I paid $24 for a shot of Jose Cuervo at a bar and when I drew issue with it, the bartender told me they were an expensive bar and Casamigos was $16. I was like, yeah, and Jose Cuervo is shit so it doesnt make sense Casamigos is cheaper and she was like beer is $11... and I was like right, so Jose Cuervo should not be $24 and this is when I realized I was dealing with an idiot, and I was the idiot. I didnt have time so I just ate the L.
I intended to get wasted at a super bowl party but it didnt end up that way. I spent the evening visiting with my aunt and her son. He is just as Pokemon obsessed as I am, and I love it. The whole super bowl didn't scratch the itch for me. It was like football ended with a consolation game this year. It was a Chessmatch of a game and I very much enjoyed seeing New York's own 50 Cent echo his music video from in Da Club. I watched the game at my aunts house. I love sharing with my aunt. She certainly made an excellent journalist in her day.I love seeing family, but NYC felt like a miss.
"I'd like to live a long life and age like wine. Maybe when I'm in my scrappy 40s I will carry a small one shooter or a wrist shooter adapted to be like Boba Fett's. Ugh I really need to get trained in combat arts."
My plane departed out of Guatemala City at 2AM. I recall being in the line for Avianca check-in and of the 50 or 60 people there, I hardly saw a single white face. That gave me pause. What's up with it vanilla face, indeed. I wondered, what was on the other side of that flight? I had no idea, really. My planning style leaves enticing, humongous knowledge gaps.
I sat next to a big-boned 15 year old and slept mostly soundly. We arrived into Guatemala and I had flashbacks to Morocco, where you were preyed upon for your money. You have to know what you're doing. You need to play the game. If you lose or default into what's presented, you'll pay extra. That's all. I felt a bit unsafe in the sprawling ancient streets of Morroco's souks. Here I know that any 40 year old man who offers me something is taking a cut. Generally, sales are less pushy than in Morocco. If you say no, they generally wish you well and move on with a smile.
^ whatever
Anyways, I missed the shuttle from the airport to Antigua so I languished for a bit and bought a coffee. I ate a disgusting ham and cheese crepe but the coffee was excellent. I upon by a quixotic pair of Americans who were also trying to get to Antigua. I overheard they wanted to go there and approached them and we agreed to split a $30 taxi. The pair was comprised of a jewish douche who talked too much and thoughtful taciturn supplicant -- classic Top/Bot. I chatted mostly with the driver. He taught me some new spanish words. I eventually fell asleep to the wanton yapping of the d-bag in the back and woke to the cab rumbling on Antiguas cobblestone streets. The cab driver must have felt similarly about the asshole american in the back, bc he asked me where my hotel was, drove us there, and then announced the cab ride was over and everyone needed to pay. He effectively stranded the pair at my hotel entrance. I paid, tipped him for his performance art, and promptly dipped.
I was able to drop my bags and go to explore the city. I traversed 15 minutes or so to the city center, passing all manner of restaurant and bar. I was mobbed by peddlers selling musical instruments (including Ocarinas, which made my inner Zelda-playing child swoon) and I kindly said no until one guy came up and cleaned my boots which looked filthy. I was actually cool with that.
With my feet lookin spiffy, I sat down and people-watched for about 30 minutes. I felt a weird sense of calm. I sat there baking in the sun watching locals, tourists, couples, and then I saw a kid in a Durant jersey and about had a conniption. I cannot begin to explain how strong my urge to play basketball is right now. I asked a very tall pair of twins who were passing by for the time. The taller of the two women said 2... I confirmed, 2? .... yes, 2... so I headed back to my appt.
I arrived at 12:15 and my room was still not ready (THANKS TALL PEOPLE) so I hung out in the little library cubby. I managed to sit down before noticing someone else sitting there in the room. I introduced myself to Tom, who is an online English teacher and has been out on the road for some time. We chatted for about 20 minutes before I started to feel exhaustion creeping in. I exited the conversation and pulled out my pillow from my bag and fell asleep.
I drooled alot during that sleep. Possibly more than I ever have before. I woke up and didnt even care. I actually thought it was kind of cool. Drooling is kind of like dreaming; an amazing feat the human body performs independently of conscious thought. It's like, surprise! My whole beard was wet with drool when I finally got up and went to my room. Okay, kind of gross but nobody can accuse me of omitting details from my journey.
" It was cool to see Boba Fett riding me in the finale of Boba Fett and sometimes I also want to do this "
I worked for the rest of the day and fell asleep early. My bed is really nice here but it does get pretty cold (50's) at night. Day Two was really my first full day in Antigua. I woke up and sought breakfast. I stopped off at this interior courtyard filled with restaurants and bars. I loved the look of the place when I had initially id'd it during the previous day's walk, and I stopped in to find nothing open. So, I sighted a nearby coffee shop and stepped in. I do not like that some restaurants present a well-chuffed operation but are really just gringo-friendly facades operated by 15 - 18 year olds. Im not in Guatemala for starbucks. I paid an exhorbident $10 for coffee and a mediocre breakfast and dipped as quickly as I'd came. Wham, bam, thank you teens.
I decided to smoke crack check out the courtyard again and found shops opening. I paid $1.00 for a Zapote Smoothie that was fantastic. I ordered a subsequent coffee and started this blog post, which I'm finishing, now, on day three. I headed home and put in a great day of work. I have to bite down the formless enthusiasm which calls me into the city when I work. It's easy to lose track of time and just sink into euphoria. Luckily, I have practiced discipline which now allows me to straddle enthusiasm and work.
I continued on into the city center in search of toothpaste, electricity adapters, and some office supplies. I found everything quite easily and dipped into the local Mercado for some foodstuffs. The market was a mind ... idk if I curse on my blog... Umm, it was as if the mind had been extracted gently and lowered softly into roiling frying oil, pulled out after only seconds and re-inserted into the human. I've been in a few central american markets and so I kind of knew what was going on as I passed through sections for dry goods, fashion, electronics, toys (someone had a crusty binder of Pokemon cards -- god bless) and arrived, finally, into meat/vegetables which apparently sit right next to eachother with no temperature control.
Welp. I went for veggies first and connected with a purveyor who I had some banter with. I bought a stalk of celery, 6 small terd-looking potatoes, thyme, an onion, a sweet pepper, a handful of hot green chilis, some spices, and she snuck in some grape tomatoes which I had said I didnt want - bitch. It all cost about $5.00.
I asked her where to find the freshest meat and she pointed me toward a pie of plucked chicken carcasses that had a fly on it. It was my first time seeing a life form disembodied like that. In one moment it looked like a chicken. In the next, it was hacked to pieces and bagged.
Hours later I cooked it up with the onions, peppers, and spices... and it was really good! On my way out, I purchased some street food from a very wise-looking woman who seemed to be feeding alot of local people. She asked me "do you eat bread?" I explained that I'd been on a diet and hadnt had much bread for a few months. She grabbed and squeezed the bit of yellow dress covering her stomach and said "I eat bread" and told me I'd like her cooking, which I did. It was the best food I've tried, as of writing.
I returned home, did some work, had some meetings, and took a siesta. When I woke I got back to work, and hyped myself up for going out to party. I finished work at 7:30PM and headed out to a bar in that same intereior courtyard where I'd enjoyed a Zapote smoothie that morning. The bar, Sköl, is operated by a 6 foot + man with a big beard from I'd guess California. Upon entrance, it seemed like there was one giant clique at the bar. I overheard a table clamoring about their 900 Quetzales bill ($125) and I knew I needed to be careful at this place. I wasnt going to be able to drink enough to break into that group and make friends. Instead, I sat back, enjoyed a Gin & Tonic, made some idle chat, and dipped to the next bar.
I landed in a brewery and sat at an empty bar. As I drank a decent beer called Chipias, I asked into where I could meet people. The bartender told me to go upstairs. I went up a spiral staircase to a series of tables and realized there was no bar, just tables. I chanced upon a girl standing in the corner on her phone and asked her if there was anywhere to actually meet people up here. She said 'not really' (that bartender downstairs is now on my bitch list) but that there was 'a really nice terrace.' I wished her a good night and saw, over her shoulder, her boyfriend eyeing me. Okay. Sorry, lord solid-cock. Anyways, I went upstairs and, indeed, it was freaking beautiful up there with the moon shining down and the temperature at a nice 69 degrees. Music floated up from all around and the town's surrounding hills shined with disparate lights of civilization. I enjoyed my beer as David Bowie played on the speakers.
^ El Barrio
I departed and spotted a London-style red phone booth that said "Cocktail Lounge." I entered the phone booth and pushed through a curtain on the other side. If you know me, you know I fux with portals and thresholds. Call me Lil Threshold or Yung Portal. Pingas da Portal Boi. Portal Le Flare. Threshold da Frenchman. I answer to all these.
THIS was where I wanted to be. They had a bar full of strange liqours and walls lined with strange Mayan art. Up in the rafters, about 20 feet up, was a giant disco ball. The bar had a layer of epoxy which sealed in little plastic animals.
The bartender, Jose, had an air of cool confidence and put me at ease. He told me they had no menu but if I explained my tastes to him, he would make me a fantastic drink. (I've decided I will frequent this location). I asked for a neat shot of Tobala Mezcal and it was fantastic. Mezcal is a liqour endemic to central america, similar to Tequila but of a higher quality. There are various traditional methods of producing Mezcal and one that I've learned to enjoy is Tobala -- also Pechuga -- The chicken skin one.
A couple sat next to me and the woman almost immediately got into how effective her Ivermectin treatment had been for covid ("you know, what Trump got. What Joe Rogan got. The Joe Rogan treatment") and she went on to share opinions on masking, Guatemalans hating to dance, and then how Guatemala had the best accent for learning English and vice-versa.
A tad exdtra, but I quite enjoyed her energy and her silent husband seemed like a happy guy. I finished my drink and took Jose's recommendation for another bar, the Charleston, which was closed. On the way back home, I stopped into one of Antigua's most popular drinking spots: El Barrio - a drunken amalgam of touristy drinking establishments pouring sugary shit drinks. The crowd looked rough and schwasted. I had almost decided to leave when I spotted a sports bar with $1.50 margaritas. I ordered one and almost immediately the bar filled up with a group of german college kids, falling all over the place, making out, and latching on to eachother out of abject fear that they might interact with other people. German master race, and all that.
Fine whatever. I started a yelling-conversation with an arab-looking man across the bar and what I heard of his story sounded really interesting. I had a second Margarita and went over to join a conversation with the arab man and a local man. We got to talking and I really liked them - Peter and I cant remember. Peter was celebrating his divorce and I cant remember was a successful importer of Teslas and real estate investor. I cant remember talked alot but also started buying myself and Peter drinks. I had a few shots, more drinks, and I cant remember was really enjoying himself. When security cleared the German children out (yeah, how does it feel on the other side, huh?), he handed the lady a $10 bill and asked for more time. He did the same for the bartender (Carl from Seattle!!!!) and we enjoyed the bar to ourselves. I was shitfaced and walked home the wrong way. It took me like an hour to get home, but I made it. Just as I fell asleep, there was an earthquake. I drifted off to the rumblings of tectonic plates.
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