What the heck? I thought, staring in utter bewilderment at the small black piece of... sand(?) I'd just pulled from my head. I just showered twenty minutes ago. And washed my hair. Thoroughly, or so I thought. Why do I have black shit in my hair?
I kept walking through Antigua, still scratching my head and wearing an expression of disgusted befuddlement.
Did a bug lay eggs in my hair within the last twenty minutes? Is this some strange breed of lice? Guatemalan lice?
I took a break from picking Guatemalan lice out of my hair to take some photographs of the arch reflected in a cobblestone puddle.
At that point, I began to notice that I wasn't the only one scratching her head.
WE'VE ALL GOT GUATEMALAN LICE! I thought in alarm, observing another ten-fifteen people who'd started absentmindedly sifting through their hair. At least my hair is short. It won't take long to grow back if I have to shave it all off.
I stopped looking at the scratching tourists to take in the sky.
When did it get so dark? This... doesn't feel normal. I'm confused... and... scared. I'm scared. What is this?
The puddles from yesterday's rain began to dance and splutter.
Is it raining again? I held out my hand, expecting to catch a fat, wet droplet.
Instead, I caught several tiny, black, grains of something.
Is this... my brain stalled for a moment, like my phone does when I have seventeen applications open. Is this... ash? My gut seized in panic and I slipped into a nearby fast food restaurant to avoid the bizarre black rain.
Okay. What's going on. Find out what's going on, Bourget. Then panic later, if necessary.
"Disculpe," I asked one of the restaurant's employees. "Sabes que es esto?"
"Es solo el volcán. No te preocupes."
It's only the volcano. Don't worry.
...
That doesn't make me not worry. In fact, that makes me worry. A lot, my eyes widened, my heart ramped up its pace, and my stomach clenched into a tight knot of fear.
Okay. I call Eybi and ask if this is normal, I fumbled with my phone, dialing my host and listening to the tone.
Fuck, I hung up after waiting for what felt like decades.
I wrote Pancho next. No response.
I wrote Silvia, my Spanish teacher.
"Silvia! Es todo seguro? Tengo miedo ahora." (Is everything safe? I'm afraid now)
Silvia responded with an emoticon laughing so hard it was crying.
"Es el fin del mundo!" (it's the end of the world) Es una lluvia de ceniza!" (it's a rain of ash!)
So... I'm not sure why everyone thinks this is funny. Or doesn't think much of anything at all, I ogled at the locals who were sharing ice cream cones under their brightly colored umbrellas, as if ash rain were an every second Tuesday sort of thing.
"Es normal?" I asked a Guatemalan at the supermarket, eyes owlishly wide with worry.
"No, no es normal," the Guatemalan responded, taking photographs of the rapidly darkening horizon. "Pero no te preocupes, es solo el volcán."
It's not normal. But don't worry, it's just the volcano.
Who, WHO, has a sentence like that EVER calmed down?
Don't worry, it's just the VOLCANO?
AM I MISSING SOMETHING?
This is why everyone in Pompeii bloody died. They were probably eating ice cream under umbrellas when Vesuvius erupted, too. And then, poof. No more Pompeii. Or ice cream. Or umbrellas.
I had left Eybi's house to buy laundry detergent, milk, and bananas. And since everyone and their dog and reassured me that everything would be okay, it was only a volcano erupting, I decided to go ahead and purchase my laundry detergent, milk, and bananas.
Is this how I really want to spend my final moments on earth? I thought, staring blankly at the shelf of soap and wondering which was softener, which was bleach, and which was actually for washing my clothes.
Things that are hard when you don't speak the language very well.
This.
I finally made it through the queue with my purchases, and decided to brave the ash and skip-hop-slip to Cafe Boheme. Where I could enjoy my last few moments on earth with a nice smoothie, not some fucking ambiguous fabric softener.
I spent a couple of hours nervously scribbling in my journal, knees pulled up close to my body and watching the windows slowly darken with ash. Listening to the harsh pitter-patter of tiny bits of volcano pelting Boheme's metal roof.
I. Am genuinely frightened right now.
Is this really happening? Am I really less than twenty kilometers away from an erupting volcano?
DULCE JESUS, Guatemala. Scorpions, parasites, wildfire, torrential rainstorms, and the most abysmal roads on which I've EVER traveled aren't enough for you? You have to have fucking erupting volcanoes as well?
CALM DOWN, you hear? STOP IT. JUST. STOP.
Eventually the ash did stop, and I cautiously ventured out from the French cafe in which I'd taken shelter.
And other than the roads being covered with ash, and cars needing a thorough washing, everything seemed to have returned to normal in the blink of an eye.
The nut guy went back to selling nuts.
Mothers and daughters went back to selling textiles.
Tourists went back to taking pictures. Pigeons resumed their pigeoning.
I walked home in a daze, not quite sure if I was safe. Whether or not I'd be suffocated by a cloud of toxic ash or hit by a river of lava or killed by an earthquake before I managed to reach Eybi's.
This is... your life, Bourget.
Gosh.
I'm so ready to be done with Central America. Guatemala, you're beautiful and everything, but you're fucking exhausting.
Locals were sweeping their sidewalks clean, spraying down their cars with water, washing streams of ash into the cobbled streets.
Which is only going to clog the old, tiny pipes and probably contaminate the water...
I sat in the living room with Eybi and Sophie that night, anxiously picking at my dinner and watching the news.
Twenty five dead. Thousands evacuated. Hundreds missing.
Fuck, Guatemala. Do you really have to be this extreme?
I slept fitfully that night. At best. Eybi had assured me that her house was built to be earthquake resistant, and that somewhat helped to soothe my pounding heart...
... but not enough for me to drift off to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.
Yes. Guatemala. I believe I'm ready to be done with you.
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