Ron Walker
After completing two years in the Navy, I return to civilian life and am fortunate enough to land a dancing job in a major revue in Hollywood. We do two shows a night, six nights a week (except when we do a 2:30 a.m. show on Saturday, which is a killer). After a year, the show closes and I decide to take a trip; but where? I look on the map and pick Guatemala.
I go to a travel agency and get a stack of brochures, a map and a money belt and fly to Guatemala City. It’s obvious I’m a bachelor.
After a brief stay in Guatemala City, a traffic snarled urban area, I take a local bus to Antigua, a settlement reminiscent of Spanish colonial times. Agua and Fuego, two enormous volcanoes rule the landscape and with the help of a full moon, a silvery glow is cast over the scene. I go into the center of town and join the local pageantry. Teenage boys stroll along a path around the park and young girls walk in the other direction and hopefully romance will flower.
Next stop, Lake Atitlan, a world-class lake on a par with Lake Tahoe. Reaching Lake Atitlan one takes a rickety school bus imported from the States. The driver’s plan is to cram as many passengers into the bus and as many boxes, crates, and equipment on the roof as possible. I sit on a bench with a peasant woman with a very unhappy chicken on her lap.
After climbing higher and higher into the mountains, we careen around a curve and criss-cross our way down a long slope to the shore of the lake. We pass among banana and mango trees and many individual vegetable gardens. Guatemala is known as the “Land of Eternal Spring,” so each morning we have a brief rain shower.
My next stop is Chichicastenango, the center an authentic Mayan culture. I board the same old bus and we continue further into the Highlands. Iron oxide colors the earth red, and pine trees replace the palms of the lowlands. After a long bouncy climb, we arrive at Chichicastenango.
“Chi Chi” is famous for its Monday and Thursday market days. There isn’t a supermarket or corner grocery for 100 miles, so market day is the only way to buy sugar, salt, clothes or even pots and pans and table and chairs. The punishing part is that everything has to be carried home if it is not sold.
I find a quiet pensione with a room that has a tiny fireplace in the corner. Each night, a maiden brings kindling and sets a crackling fire. We even have a nice dining room for guests. “Chi Chi” becomes my sanctuary. I am completely isolated from the outside world.
Then one day I am told I have a telephone call at the Post Office. There are only two telephones in the whole town, so I am highly suspicious, but alas, it’s true. The call is from my dad in Hollywood (how he found me I’ll never know). I have to be at the Desert Inn in Las Vegas in a week to begin rehearsing. I pack up and leave my paradise, and make it in time. Hooray, until next time (and there are two more visits).
Ron Walker can be reached at walkover@gmx.com
