Fuego: writers under the Volcano

Peril and poetry in Guatemala!

In 2006 when my husband and I were writing novels in Costa Rica we stayed in the town of Antigua in Guatemala, where we were regularly drawn to a rooftop bar from which one could see no fewer than three volcanoes: Agua (water) the closest, Fuego (fire) inactive when I took this photo from the bar, and Acatenango, further away and gently smouldering.

This week Fuego has violently erupted and hundreds of villagers have fled from its slopes. Guatemala is a land of contrasts: the day we arrived in Guatemala City, the mayor was shot dead in the street. During our stay in Antigua, heavy rains caused fatal torrents to sweep away mountain villages. Yet on the day we left, we were at a restaurant where a poetry group had gathered, reading classic, current and their own work in a circle obsessed not by food, wine or the view but the intoxicating sound of words.