IV
The Guatemalan capital is a pleasant city, but not handsome.
Built low and massively, it gives one the impression that it is patiently awaiting another earthquake. In its past it has been moved about from time to time in the hope that it might find a resting place free from nature’s assaults, but another tremor always finds it and shakes it to pieces. It was destroyed in 1917 and again in 1918. A writer never dares use the phrase, “The last earthquake,” since another is apt to occur before his book reaches print.
At the time of my visit, in 1924, its builders had apparently become discouraged. Many of the buildings were still but a heap of crumbled ruins. The streets were rough, paved with cobbles partially dislodged, and marked with crazy trails which traffic had worn out in years of zigzagging from curb to curb in an effort to find passage. The drivers of the little old cabs worked their way along these streets like sailors tacking through a tortuous channel, and only large automobiles were in evidence, for the smaller variety so popular in Mexico would have shaken passengers to death.
At the main plaza, the Cathedral was surrounded by piles of débris. Since Guatemala keeps the church in the same restraint as does Mexico, the Bishop could not afford to rebuild every year or two. The edifice now stood with columns seamed and cracked, with dome and towers completely gone, and with its greenish silver bells protected by improvised board shelters. The interior also presented a patched effect, and a ruined altar was replaced by a less ornate substitute, but business was proceeding as usual.
OCCASIONALLY THE RESULTANT EARTHQUAKES KNOCK DOWN A CITY OR DESTROY THE GUATEMALAN CATHEDRAL
Guatemala, however, is the largest city in Central America. Its population—estimated as accurately as anything is estimated in these parts—numbers something between a hundred and two hundred thousand. If a trifle crumbled, it is the most complete city hereabouts. There are many shops, several banks, a number of theaters, and a host of excellent hotels. There is local color in abundance, for Indians in picturesque garb walk the streets, lounge in the plaza, and congregate in the native market behind the cathedral, quite as primitive as in the rural districts. There is electric light, a system of mail boxes set into the house-walls at every corner, and even a café with an orchestra at every half block for those who crave modernity.
These cafés are really a distinguishing feature of Guatemala City. Elsewhere in Central America waitresses are usually waiters. Here the waiters are usually waitresses—rather coquettish little señoritas, whose smiles are served gratis with every order. The coffee-kings gather there nightly to keep their wealth in circulation, and to bask in the smiles. They drink somewhat immoderately, as in Mexico, and wait patiently to the closing hour, only to learn that the girls’ own parents call to take them straight home. But the coffee-kings are ever hopeful. They come back night after night. And the cafés possess a gayety that adds to the city’s attractiveness.
Neither revolution, nor earthquake, nor disappointment in love can dampen the good humor of these countries.