Happy New Year

January 1, 2011 in Guatemala, North America, Travelogue

Huevos Rancheros, with a side order of Dennis

The New Year did not come quietly to Guatemala.  I don’t think it ever has.

 

It began with a lot of squealing children hugging the daylights out of Dennis, who arrived by boat before breakfast New Year’s Eve.  He’s the big surprise that has been in the works for several weeks.

 

He was here a month or so ago, when we met this particular group of backpackers.  Then, he flew home… only to discover he missed the others too much and he had to come back.  Their surprise and delight at his arrival was worth all of the wait.

 

New Year’s Eve was a day of laughing, napping and playing soccer in the garden.

 

Darkness fell not a moment too soon for Ezra and Elisha, who’ve been intermittently poking through their bag of fireworks for about three days, wondering which will be the loudest, the prettiest, the dud.

 

We lit the roman candle and spinning star by the lake and enjoyed the colours reflected in the mirrored surface of the water.  The rest we took up to the road, where they were least likely to set off a brush fire.  It was loud, it was crazy, it was perfect boy fun.  Only one person got burned, that was Daddy, and the duds were my sparklers.

 

The over 14 crowd wandered into town for a late curry buffet at Fe while the boys thought they won the lotto to have a big screen movie with three big pans of popcorn.

 

It was a pleasant evening.  In classic Guatemalan style, the restaurant (which had taken reservations) was out of plates and cutlery by the time we arrived.  We were handed giant serving bowls and spoons, one of each for every two people and we shared.  A classical guitarist and violinist, both dreadlocked, serenaded us while we were mesmerized by the fire dancer in the courtyard.

 

The grandparents turned in at midnight Indiana time.  The rest of us sat on the shore of the lago and watched the new year pour in over the volcanos in an array of coloured splashes that peppered the sky over every pueblo on the lake.  Every once in a while I stand amazed, wondering how in the world I got here; this was one of those moments.

 

The fireworks lasted forever.  Santiago’s were the longest and most random in their display.  By the end of nearly an hour they were slightly obscured by the smoke clouding the air between the volcanos.  Then, suddenly, the entire city went dark.  We giggled and imagined some Guatemalan kid, “Hey Mom, watch THIS!” as he threw his red paper wrapped “bulls foot” bomb straight into one of the transformers.

 

San Marcos’ fireworks were launched from the plaza in front of the municipal building, up the hill behind us.  They exploded in technicolor midnight flowers directly over our garden.  It was the first time I’ve watched fireworks and not known where to look.  I can’t describe it.  Next year you’ll just have to come.

 

It was an amazing thing to stand beneath the canopy of the universe, with stars brighter than they seem anywhere else, and welcome the New Year at the top of the world. To wonder at the many roads, taken and not, that have lead to this very moment, this particular group of people, this place, and no other.  Breathing the cool, damp, mountain darkness into my lungs I whispered a prayer of thanks and made my wish for the New Year: To live life with Presence, Purpose, and Joy.

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