Well in true silly adventure Guatemalan style I recieved my dad´s package of books from Guatemala City and have safely returned to Antigua. Went into the city with Raul the owner of my hotel. We ran a few errands in the city and then ventured down to Zona Uno, which is a combination of all the government offices and the Presidential Palace and main cathedral as well as the worst ghetto in Guatemala City outside of Zona 18 (which must be just godawful if it is worse than Zona 1). We first had to stop at a house that Raul is acting as real estate agent for as he got a call that it had been broken into. Upon entering I realized that I was in the worst house I had ever seen. Everything that could be broken had been and there were empty rubbing alcohol and glue bottles everywhere (huffing is a big problem here). Raul, who is 38. about 6ft and 215 pounds of muscle led the way through the house with his .38 special to make sure no one was there, then muttered several Guatemalan profanities. One glaring defect that I noticed while for fun playing the part of prospective buyer was the rather conspicuous lack of a roof of any kind over the house. I pointed out to Raul that this may inhibit purchase of the house and he replied, ¨But my friend you don´t understand! I was here a few days ago and there was a roof! Those hijos de un GRAN PUTA stole the roof!!¨ I pondered the mechanics involved in stealing an entire roof for a little while while Raul yelled into his cellphone to the owner of the house about rampant roof thievery and how he wished he could have caught the guys who (sorry I still cant believe someone would steal a roof) go around stealing the tops of buildings. We stomped around the house for a few minutes more while Raul cursed the motherless sons of bitches who had stolen the roof and then we returned to the car. Pulling up to the next intersection my erstwhile guide pointed out the various characters that inhabit this particular part of Zone 1 such as the transvestite hookers, glue huffers, and the man on the corner with a gun in his pants who started walking towards our car and began to pull aforementioned pistol out of his waistband. Raul lowered his window halfway and pointed HIS gun at the guy who then just shrugged and turned around. Raul then uncocked his gun looked at me and laughed, ¨You know my friend, I have shot three thieves in this neighborhood before. Two of them died right away and I didn´t wait around to see about the third.¨ I asked what were the circumstances and he just related how he was in his car, some people tried to carjack them and he had to kill them. Then he said ¨my friend, are you hungry? There´s a Pollo Campero (Guatemalan KFC) two blocks away!¨ I declined saying I wasn´t hungry. Off to the post office! To pick up a package here you need a Guatemalan id called a cedula. I don´t have a cedula. Therefore I had to go to another office to have a man look at my passport. I was informed of this after waiting in line number one. Off to passport guy. Upon reaching him after waiting in line number two he told me I need a photocopy of my passport. Back outside into the street madness to the photocopy place where I wait in line number three. Back to passport guy and line number four. Off to package pickup and line number five. Get the package and told to wait in yet another line so a guy can open up my box, look in it and send me back to the line number five guy so he can also look in it and then I sign my third piece of paper and surrender the passport xerox with the ¨Yes you are a foreigner¨ stamp on it from the lines number two and four guy. Lines number five and seven guy finally gives me my box and says, ¨¡Muchas gracias, guerro!¨ which is akin to a black postal worker saying ¨Thanks, Whitey!¨ I say ¨!A usted!¨ with a silent ¨pendejo¨ added on, but only in my mind.