There is a good hotel in the city in which it was a real pleasure to rest after experiencing some of the crudeness in accommodation elsewhere. It is built around a court yard which is ornamented with orange and oleander trees, ferns, vines and many flowers. Inclosed glass corridors make a pleasant promenade and dining place. At the Gran Hotel I encountered a number of members of that strange legion who are always in active service and on the firing line—those men who go through the jungle ahead of the railroad and over the mountains before the engineers. To sell a bit of cotton cloth or a phonograph they are ready to speak as many languages as a German diplomat. They cross deserts and run the risk of pestilence, and have more adventures than an amateur explorer would write volumes about. These men are the salesmen who introduce the manufactured goods of commercial countries into the uncivilized and uncommercial lands of the globe. Some of them deserve medals and even pensions, but they are lucky if they get their names in the papers when they pass away in some far-off land. Many of them are very interesting characters and as full of interesting anecdotes of personal adventures as the tropical jungle is of vegetation.
GRAN HOTEL, GUATEMALA CITY.
The tram lines extend all over the city but the little “dinky” cars are almost a joke. The only compensation is the cheap fares which are just about one cent in real money, but a shilling in the paper substitute. The city is unusually well lighted with electric lights, and a creditable telephone service has been installed.
The military element was in evidence everywhere, as, at the time of my visit, there was an unusual number of soldiers in the city, and parades were of daily occurrence. The soldiers were not awe-inspiring nor did they seem to take their duties very seriously. The fort of San Juan is a rather imposing fortress built in regulation style with moat and drawbridge, and its adobe walls painted to resemble great stone blocks. I noticed that the guns all seemed to point toward the city itself. Prisoners working under guard were to be seen in many places with more soldiers on guard than prisoners working. At one place, I saw nine soldiers lounging about and guarding four prisoners who were at work. At another time there were a half dozen soldiers forming a hollow square, in the centre of which was one poor prisoner who looked anything but a desperate criminal. In the country, I have seen them marched along across country with their arms tied with a rope which was held by a soldier who rode on a horse. The days of maudlin sympathy with law breakers has not yet reached Guatemala.
Guatemala City is a perfect place to play with life, cloistered away from the active world, and yet so near to its bustling stir. The real world and its manners are here, but there are none of its problems. All things are reduced to so small a scale that the individual need not worry. People who have money have inherited it or made it easy; those who have it not, never expect it. There is no hustling, ambitious middle class to stir up rivalry and discontent. The people drift along placidly and, content with what they have, covet not the riches or luxury of another. The visitor can enjoy life and live quietly, feeling that he can always go back to the real world whenever he wants to, and that a few days’ journey will transport him back to the busy life of our great metropolis.
STREET CAR IN GUATEMALA CITY.