Guatemala, Part Two: New Years Eve

Asa has been very much in the front line throughout our little crisis. That’s partly because he and Tesi are the Spanish speakers in the family, but mainly because he has been acting like a grownup. I think it’s interesting to see what this kind of challenge brings out in people. What do you do with your anxiety? Can you transform it into some kind of useful energy?

In one of Wodehouse’s stories (the only Jeeves and Wooster story in which Jeeves has the narrative voice) Jeeves remarks that Mr. Wooster lacks “the gift of the unusual situation”. There have been moments in my life when I have thought the same about Asa. (There have also been moments when I have thought it about myself.)

Asa showed up well yesterday. He translated, he relayed messages, he searched for the breaker box, he rode along with Tesi when she headed off at dusk in the Jeep with Juan Jose to look for plumbing supplies. (That first time, summoned by his nephew from some party, Juan Jose had come by bus, not by motorbike. More about that scary bumpy dark Jeep ride later.)

But what set the seal upon it for Tesi and me was when Asa was selected to receive the crucial instructions. At the point when the plumber had done all he could in the dark after closing time on a holiday with nothing but hand tools and a piece of plastic pipe and a length of rope, J. B. stood in front of us all, hesitating, saying “I need to choose someone …” and picked The Young Man. Suddenly at that moment, viewed against the backdrop of a strange place and an unusual challenge, our child looked like an adult to us.

After that, Amadi, Gerry, and Tesi went to bed one by one but Asa and I stayed up. He checked on the pump from time to time. We climbed to the roof at quarter to midnight, when it was getting really loud. There were firework displays in every direction: in the center of town, in a neighbor’s yard two doors away, on a distant ridge line, everywhere — not to mention marvelous flying lanterns, small translucent glowing hot air balloons launched into the night sky one after another.

When we came back down, Asa checked on the pump again. This area was his responsibility; I was merely an observer. There was a funny moment, though, when he seemed to want my help for the trip to the breaker box to shut off the system for the night. He was just a little tiny bit afraid. ("Because electricity" was how he put it.)

Oh, and I should mention the other way that Asa was in the front line yesterday. You may be wondering why, when the firefighters had filled our cistern, that was not the end of the story. Well, the head firefighter Miguel was being thorough, and before putting hose to cistern he wanted to get a good look at the house’s water supply system. He found the covered nook in the front garden where the water, having made its way through a series of buried tanks, is pumped into a pressure tank. While contemplating it he gave what should have been a harmless gentle nudge to a PVC pipe. What happened next happened very fast: a related pipe suddenly sprang a leak and sprayed a good deal of hot water straight into Asa’s face and chest at high velocity.

Our understanding is that when (a) there was no more water coming to the pump and (b) a relay that should have shut off the pump failed, then (c) the pump, running dry, overheated, to the extent that the pipes leading to it were handling much more pressure than usual, not to mention heat. In that moment, the very surprised Asa said a word that I have rarely heard him say. We thought of keeping the bit of burst pipe as a souvenir, but I think in the end we left it at the house for the amusement of our landlord.

Tesi and I have been saying for years that we have terrible plumbing karma. This is not the time to tell all the old stories, but we have had the strangest leaks and disasters over the years. It's pretty clear that we brought our bad luck with us to Antigua. I couldn't help wondering whether it would follow us on our side trip to Pana.

Guatemala, Part One: New Years Day

January 1, 2014
Antigua, Guatemala

I awoke before the rest of the family at 6:00 and climbed the alarmingly steep and narrow stairs to the rooftop terrace. I had not been up there this early before, and I was rewarded today by birdsong and the sight of many teal-colored parrots flying in and out of a tree in the neighbor’s yard — also the usual over-sized grackles.

Looking further afield, I saw the nearest volcano, its top hidden in a cloud. Antigua sits in a bowl, circled by volcanoes. All of their peaks are in cloud right now, so I can’t tell whether the active one is puffing.

I know the shape of the horizon a little better than I did yesterday, because last night at midnight Asa and I saw many of these ridgelines beautifully lit up when we went on the roof to watch the fireworks.

I’m down on the ground floor now. I might have stayed on the roof longer except for a couple of things. I wanted to use the toilet and, ideally, to flush it, but that seemed to call for turning the household water supply back on, and that would have meant going to the meditation room next to the Moroccan lounge and flipping the correct circuit breaker, then sticking around to keep an eye on the temporary plumbing arrangements in the front garden. Asa, who received our instructions from the plumber last night and conveyed them to the rest of us, carefully explained this again at bed time last night. If you’re going to have to step outdoors every few minutes to make sure that the makeshift piece of PVC pipe is still lashed securely to the pump, then you probably don’t want to be hanging out on the roof.

Actually Asa received his instructions from J. B., the piano player who takes care of this house when the landlord is traveling. J. B. received them from the plumber Juan Jose, who made an emergency call in the late afternoon even though it was New Years Eve. Juan Jose is an uncle of one of the volunteer firemen who came to pump water into our cistern after we discovered that the municipal water supply had not been reaching this neighborhood for a few days.

To tell the truth, I still haven’t turned the water on. I could get along easily without it until Juan Jose returns this morning to make more permanent repairs, given the vast quantities of safe drinking water which the very apologetic J. B. has left us with -- I mean, I could get along without it until everybody else wakes up and starts taking showers and flushing toilets. So I just came downstairs, used a toilet whose tank was still full, went outside to satisfy my curiosity on a point which had been nagging me about the Jeep — is it really true that neither one of the front seats folds forward to make it easier to climb into the back seat ? (yes, I think so) -- and, if not, how tricky will it be for Asa, Amadi, and me to all get in the back seat if the five of us decide to visit Luvia, Wilfredo, and Daniel on Friday? (I think we can manage) — and then came in and started writing. But I think I will flip the breaker now. If anything blows up, I’ll just turn the system off again until Juan Jose arrives in an hour or two.

*****

Forty-five minutes later. No surprises when I flipped the switch. I am sitting in a rocking chair on the front stoop, with a cup of coffee and a newly charged laptop. Tesi has come downstairs and gone back up to take a bath before the water is shut off again.

I’m still hearing birds, though it’s no longer anything like dawn. I’m still hearing occasional fireworks, though it’s no longer New Years Eve. I’m also hearing a lot of church bells, though it’s not Sunday.

In front of me is the entrance gate, which I have unlocked for the plumber. I’m watching it through the jungly front garden: palm trees with their crisscrossing fronds, a potted rosemary three feet tall, some of those big-leaved hotel-lobby plants, a raspberry cane that’s climbing into a tree in the company of flowering tropical vines.

To my right, beyond the orange tree, is the other spot that I’m keeping an eye on, where the water pump is cycling on and off. I’ve just gone and looked; it’s still holding up.

*****

The plumber has arrived, on a little motorcycle, looked at the job in the morning light, and gone away to get some supplies.