23. Guatamala City

23.

Still, there are worse things than these petty thieves and perhaps these lazy soldiers and border guards keep the more violent outlaws at bay. It is a nuisance to unpack and repack my stuff at every crossing, but I am never threatened or frightened. I guess I am paying for “protection” and the border fees are less expensive than hiring my own soldiers as the old-time travelers did. My American passport seems to get me a little—but just a little--automatic respect.

Guatemala City, Guatemala:

A big election is happening here next week. Since arriving I have had the uncomfortable feeling that I am being watched. General So-and-so is making a big TV and poster campaign and soldiers are everywhere with machine guns ready and the mood is Police-state Terror—not the most mellow atmosphere for peaceful sightseeing! When I take my camera out of its case for a photo of the city from an overlooking hill, two guys in a big, black American car drive slowly toward me. They don’t say a word—just glare—but it’s a bit scary for this country boy.

On the other hand, there is a fine municipal library near the capital building where one of the librarians speaks English. He helps me find a few books about the Maya people and about the archaeological work that has been done in this region.

I discover some curious facts. The babies of the original Mayan people who still live in this vicinity have the same blue discoloration near the base of the spine called the “Mongolian Spot”, which true Asian Mongolian infants have, and the Mayan language, I read, is similar to Latin.

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