A nightly visit by a young lady.

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Chiquimula, 27 marzo 1990.
Reentering Guatamala was pas de problem. I didn't even have to pay the entry fee, did have to pay 8 Lempira exit tax in order to leave Honduras though.
I'm entering the Guatamala highlands again full with small pictoresque indio villages. I still have nearly two weeks before meeting up with my travel partner James in Panajachel and plan to spent these weeks doing a lot of hiking exploring the sierras and those indio villages, making sketches in my sketch book, trying to get to know those people, the way they live, get to understand their cultures...sleep early and get up early, start my hikes straight after a hearty breakfast.
Yeah, good and serious plans...I mean I might never get back to this part of the world.
Knock knock knock, shit, I was just about to start this get-to-bed-early stuff, it is 10 o'clock at night and I'm here in this 6 Quetzales hospitaje room, the only furniture a wooden cot that is too short to accomodate my large frame, a few straw filled potato bags that is supposed to be my matress, a moth eaten dusty blanket on top of the potato bags.
I don't need to open the door to know who or what is responsible for that insistent knocking.
Whenever I travel in these impoverished third world countries staying in rock bottom hotels, the door of my room will get serious damage by the small female knuckles of local women trying to make a few spare bucks in exchange for sex.
"Pss, pss, gringo, abre la puerta, tengo que hablar contigo", an urgent feminine voice at the other side of the door whispers softly but with certain fear. I suspect that this lady out in the corridor is probably afraid the receptionist might catch on and demand a part of her as yet unearned quetzales.
I open the door mentally pissed off by her disturbance and partly bemuzed by the way life works when you have no money but a hungry belly.
In the flickering light of the candle on the window sill, I see a petite female shape glide by in the direction of my wooden cot dressed in a dark blue denim miniskirt and a pinkish T-shirt, bare footed and shoulder long raven black hair.
She has got the face of a kit hardly out of her diapers and I suspect she's still well within her teenage years.
I watch with fascination while she starts to pull het T-shirt up showing me two small apple shaped boobies.
"Que no te desvertitas, chica"!!! I can hear my own voice while my male hormones try desperately to overcome my rational mind, "cuantas anyos tienes tu", she tells me she is 19 years old and the duaghter of the owner of the hospitaje while unzipping her denim miniskirt, no slip there...she came well prepared.
I take 5 quetzales out of my wallet and shove her out into the unlit dark corridor throwing her miniskirt and T-shirt plus the 5 quetzales after her.
SIGH, SIGH, SIGH, THAT WAS A CLOSE ONE!!!

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