Antigua 2

I didn't nap upon arriving. Yes, I was exhausted having been awake for over thirty hours, but felt too excited to sleep. I was the furthest I'd ever been from home and needed to see Antigua. Edmonton was a distant thought.
When he dropped me off, the driver pointed one way.
"Uno cuadro a parque central."
Central Park was one block away and I walked the direction his finger had pointed. A fountain sat in the middle. A large bowl overflowed, held up by several stone maidens whose nipples lactated water in the circular pool beneath them. The square surrounding the park was magnificent. Three of the four blocks enclosing the square were old churches. Two of them were left in deliberate ruin, memorializing the devastation of an earthquake from years before. Ruins were present every few blocks throughout the city's core, all of them churches. They provided excellent snapshots for tourists, and a home for what seemed like dozens of Guatemalans to compliment my tattoos, then try to sell me drugs.
"Nice tattoos/ buenas tattooas."
"Thanks/gracias."
"Quiere weed/you want weed?" (Yes, most said weed."
"No necesito gracias."
"Quiere coke?" (Capitalized with a little sniff."
Pause.
"No necesito gracias."
After hearing no, most turned without a word. A surprising amount wanted to talk about my tattoos.
"Cuantos tiene?"
I have thirteen tatoos.
"Me gusta mucho."
One told me of the tattoo he was getting soon. Even Guatemalans like dragons.
Another of the corner drug dealers spoke English. He explained the rarity of tattoos in Guatemala. Those who have them, are almost exclusively gang members.
"One guy said he was going to get a dragon."
"He's in a gang called the (something) dragons."
"Oh."
"You in a gang?"
I almost wanted to lie to him, to throw up a W and yell 'Wu-Tang." I decided against it.
"No, I'm not."
"If people don't know that, they won't fuck with you. Those mean different things down here."
Far out. Truthfully, I enjoyed the fact that noone had tattoos. Back home, every greaser and his mom has a half sleeve. Edmonton has more shops per capita than any other city in North America and it felt good to stand out again. Anyone one says they don't like the attention that their tatoos attract is filthy, rotten liar. They may not enjoy getting felt up, or interrogated about them by strangers, but every stare that lingers a second longer than it should, is noticed, and enjoyed.

I walked for a few hours, and returned to the hotel. I had accomplished my main goal. I found the cross. Not in some metaphorical way. I located Cerra de la Cruz. When I looked up Antigua back home, the first image that appeared was a large white cross, erected on a hillside that overlooked Antigua from above. It looked beautiful, like a small homage to Sugarloaf Mountain in Rio.
My only goal for my first night was to find which way the cross was. Antigua is surrounded by mountains and volcanoes. I couldn't see the cross from parque central. I walked each direction, until I saw it on a hillside in the distance. Tomorrow. The sun set quick. I thought of Mexico. Before now, that was the closest I had come to the equator, and I recalled how much quicker the sun dissapeared compared to home. It was light at 6, and pitch black by 6:30. The sun fled Antigua, and retreated behind the Volcanoes.