Real Live Volcanoes!

For as long as I can remember I have had one goal in life - well, many, but one in particular - to see into the heart of a volcano. Not just any old dead volcano, or even a crater with steam coming out of it, but to actually stare down into a pit of fire and smoke. As you can probably guess by this prelude, I can finally mark one more goal off my list and rest a little more content. From Coban we came to Antigua. Within a few hours the landscape outside the bus window changed from lush, temperate mountains to sparse, arid desert. Antigua is probably the most famous town in Guatemala, maybe even Central America, and for good resaon. Its colonial image has been preserved, from crumbling churches to cobblestone streets - there aren't even any trafic lights! As such, it is also infested with tourists, and its attendant crime. Our first night in town John had his shoes out on a ledge between our window and its iron-bar grating. Around 11 at night the proprietor woke us up and informed him that she had just got him shoes back from a robber who had snatched them!But onto the volcano. John opted out of the uphill climb, but I eagerly boarded a bus at 6am and set out for the tiny village of San Francisco at the base of Volcan Pacaya. The first hour we climbed through jungle, with the occasional spectacular view of valleys below, dotted with villages and surrounded by mountains and other (inactive) volcanoes. Then we emerged out onto the lower flank of the volcano's cone, covered with plants sparsely spread over the rich volcanic soil. Soon this growth was swallowed up by hard black rock, remnants of the most recent lava flow (I believe 2004, but they happen all the time, this being one of the world's most active volcanoes). From there the trail curved straight up the steep cone. With every step you would slide a half a step back. The wind howled, and smoke rose in thick plumes out of the summit above us. Finally we reached the top, and it was like stepping into another world. Rocks stained yellow and red jutted up like needles, out of which sulphuric gas bellowed and swept into our lungs; there were a stench and sound of coughing on every side. At the very top two demonic holes lurked, the wind and gas howling as it swirled up from them in shimmering waves of heat. I tried to peer over the smaller and suddenly felt as if I was punched in the face with a hand of fire and my nostrils stabbed with needles. Then the guide took me to the side of the bigger hole, and when the smoke momentarily parted, peering down, I could see the dull red of magma below. My goal was fulfilled.Now we are in Panajachel, another tourist town on the shores of Lake Atitlan. This has earned the reputation of being the most beautiful lake in the world, and with verdant green cliffs and three volcanoes surrounding its shimmering turquoise waters, I'm not one to argue. There are a number of Mayan villages surrounding it, and most of the Mayan people still wear traditional clothing, weaves of fabulous colors. In Panajachel however there are more hippies than Mayans, so the atmosphere is a bit Disneylandish at times. Still, one can't help but love being in a place as beautiful as this.