The rain came down hard. We were both soaked before taking a sheltered table in the courtyard of the one beautiful hotel in town where they had hot coffee and yummy food and we could watch the rain pouring on to the lush garden courtyard. I was cold but happy. A marimba band started playing from an upper balcony. A much nicer place to be.
All good things must come to an end and the rain eventually stopped. Back to the market. Carina hadn't seen enough. I didn't try to reason with her. There was only a bit more than an hour left before we had to catch the last bus out of town. I knew I could make it. The rain had driven off a lot of people and it wasn't as jammed as before.
I know Carina must have thought it was totally wimpy but she humored me when I insisted on taking a nice comfy shuttle bus for the return trip.
Those who know me best know what a hardass I can be when it comes to beggars. Back in Toronto, we all know perfectly well that no matter what they say, the money is always going for crack, crystal meth or booze. In places like these, I know parents send their children out looking as pitiful as possible to collect cash and if they do a real good job and turn into little cash machines, that's going to be their career and they'll never have a chance at going to school. Too much kindness from strangers can destroy their futures. But while we waited in the van with the door wide open, I was confronted with the plaintive voice of a small child futilely calling "Una quetzal." I caved.
Please don't judge me too harshly. You had to be there. It was miserable and cold up there. She must have been 7 years old. She had a little five year old brother beside her and a lumpy baby on her back. I knew it had been one long suffering day for the little waifs. No one was giving them anything. We all knew better. Anyone reading this would have done the same. I was leaving in a comfy van. They were staying.
Now, I'm not looking to make anyone cry but I got the sweetest "Gracias." for my pitiful useless offering. She walked away a few steps and then backed up so the little baby could tell me "Gracias." too. I wanted out of there so bad. Later, I saw her still at it, still not having any luck. The quetzal and a half I'd given her had already been spent on a little snack. The baby was taking care of it, pulling it up out of the little fold in the blanket she was wrapped in while the big sister kept trying gently to push it back out of sight until later. No, life isn't fair.
Meanwhile, across the street, an absolutely wretched old beggar woman with no legs wailed helplessly while tickytok cabs kept passing her by. I suppose none of them wanted the job of lifting her into the cab. Eventually a nice young man did. He had no easy job.
We finally made it out of there. It was so good to be back to Panajachel. Our driver stopped at some nice lookout points and we all got much better shots of the lake from high than I did through the dirty wet window of the chicken bus. And then it was dinner and happy hour at the rock 'n' roll bar. A nice end to an interesting day.
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