The Guatemalan Experience (Part 2)

Sunset in Lake Atitlán. Guatemala. 

...It was then I understood… when she came up. The moon appeared massive behind the Toliman, and I could distinguish the deer running up the Atitlan to greet her on the other side of the range. I understood I wouldn't be the prey that night. The deer stood as sharp silhouettes against the moon, but I knew better, those were the firefly wizards, the deer men followed by their yellow rabbits. Quick! Fast! Two coffee trees fell in flames on the lake, completely covered with little flaming bugs.

The sound of the second crack made me step away from paradise for a second. As the fumes and heat came out of the roaster and the cooling tray started caressing the perfect full city Atitlán SHB. I closed the lid and dropped another batch into a vision splendid. As I stepped away from the roaster and my beloved Atitlán, the room hummed with the hulling of the machines going on in the other room. As I opened the door, again the pure and crystal feeling of heavy rain entered my nose. A San Marcos SHB was being dry milled, a faint powdery cloud hung around the coffee bags waiting to get roasted. The small greenish-blue bean looked insignificant in my hand. I took a handful to my nose after removing my mask. Oh the Universe is kind! If rain were solid it would be this…

I took a small green San Marcos to chew on, and on the act was able to contemplate the world as seen from its cloudy roof atop the Tacaná Volcano. In the distance, just as if on the volcano, I saw the scattered peaks of the Guatemalan Fire Chain in the form of coffee stacks. To my left the high planes of Huehuetenango, as I passed it I reached yet for another green bean. The subtle difference was felt as soon as I dropped my rainy San Marcos and felt the dark chocolate from this other region. And far away on that side of the Cuchumatanes I could close my eyes and listen to the roar of the hundred rivers in Quiché. Fresh prunes, ripe orange, and strong eucalyptus with cypress from the faraway Acatenango made me want to shipwreck my soul on that very spot. However the warm feeling from flaming heat reminded me that yet another batch was on its way.

The warmth felt so good out on those ranges, I had to take my hat off to wipe the sweat in my forehead. I rested for a while as I meditated that last roast. Sitting here on the breeze of the Fraijanes Pateau made me want to heartily gulp down on a fresh espresso, but the beverage served by my local host felt so much better at that moment. I lay on my back as last years foliage made a perfect rug above the moist soil. I could smell the earth, the pleasant and rich coffea leaves. I could see way above me the massive branches that nurtured my coffee plants. It was extremely hot (35ºC) considering we were at 6.500 feet above sea level. Clouds gave additional shade as a heavy warm drop fell on my hand. It had been just as the drops that had flown like the darts of heaven into my body at Retalhuleu; while the Pacific roared unseen and the black sand under my feet was damp as I clung to my horse in the storm. It is such a pleasant life in the tropics! As the smoke of another batch is lost in the air, the clouds start to part from the ground in the musty plantation of the Rain Forest in Cobán. I can barely distinguish the shapes of smiles and the shades of men and women, who bless and welcome summer by claiming with their fingertips the precious trophy of this land. In every coffee cherry holding perfection, and as I watch each cherry flow down the wetting mill unto the patio, I sense the coffee-cherry smell so strong in the air that under the blazing sun its nearly solid.

As I finish my roasting schedule I walk past the grinders that scream out the concentrated magnificence of a paradise contained in microscopic chunks. Outside the roastery a pleasant fresh smell of roasted coffee hangs on the atmosphere and will be felt in the neighbourhood through the night. People stop and sniff every once in a while, a small roasted bean lingers its aftertaste on my tongue. I feel tired as I sip my cup of coffee; it was a long journey today. It's hard to believe so much adventure can be present in such small a place. I take a couple of minutes as that sun sets miles away over the Lake at Atitlán, and in every drink experience it all over again. My heart blushes to the thought of having preserved the life of my country in every batch, and the possibility of bringing this untamed perfection that flows at the tip of my fingers into every cup and everyday. But tomorrow will be better, tomorrow I'll see the world, and continue to ponder in eternal gratefulness, every few seconds that this is the reason why I roast.