Nancy and Doug picked us up in the morning and took us off for a visit to a golf course – and not just any golf course. This was La Reunion Golf resort and Residences, about 40 minutes outside town, at the foot of Fuego. (www.lareunion.com.gt)

To get there, we drove along cobbled streets through San Miguel Escobar where the churchbells were ringing. I looked up and there were the boys hauling on the ropes in the bell tower. Clang, Clang, Clang! Pull, Pull, Pull. We drove farther through Ciudad Vieja. It was market day and the streets were thronged with people walking, shopping and selling. This is the town with water faucets here and there along the road for the homes with no running water, with the lavanderia in the central square where women wash their clothes in cold water on stone washboards, where the cooking in many homes is done over open wood fires. We watched women walking with baskets on their heads, and men pushing carts. Nancy edged the car between cars and trucks and motorbikes that were sometimes moving, sometimes parked on the narrow street. Vendors sat behind piles of produce and textiles and plastic and leather and everything you could imagine that someone might want to buy and sell – and this was not a tourist market. This was a local market for local people.

We drove past walls and gates of what used to be coffee fincas (farms) and are now gated communities of condominiums.

We got closer to the base of Volcan Fuego (the fire volcano) and crossed a bridge that spanned the gorge where huge volumes of mud and water flowed down a few years ago and wiped out part of a village.

We passed the road that used to lead to the golf course but now leads to the housing development and is closed to outside traffic, and we continued to the next long driveway leading off to the right. We stopped to pick up a worker on his way up the hill – and Nancy knew what she was doing – it was a very long uphill walk. And then we got to the top and it was awesome.

The golf course spread out around the base of the volcano, and rental bungalows lined the sloping driveway and the magnificent clubhouse stood at the top. A valet took the car away as we pulled up at the front door, and we walked into a foyer with huge floral arrangements and high ceilings and ornate woodwork. We walked through to the patio that overlooked the infinity pool that overlooked the green. We checked out the locker rooms and showers (opening right onto little gardens) and the fitness room and the rooftop bar and the elegant dining room before finding a seat on the patio. Although we really weren’t hungry enough to do justice to the brunch buffet, we wanted to sit down and enjoy the ambiance. Waiters spread linen napkins on our laps and poured coffee and brought baskets of croissants and sweet rolls followed by fruit plates and pancakes and eggs benedict.

While Nancy talked with the staff about offering some yoga classes and massages here, Doug, Jim and I climbed into a golf cart and a driver took us off to visit one of the bungalows. The front door opened to a large bedroom with mosquito netted beds and floor to ceiling windows, outside of which was a private infinity pool – and the bathroom had an indoor and an outdoor shower (in a private, leafy garden) as well as a Jacuzzi tub that overlooked the infinity pool – that overlooked the greenery of the golf course – that was overlooked by the volcano. It was all so gorgeous.

And this is Guatemala. The indigenous people and the poor people and the everyday working people live and work side by side with the wealthy people, both Guatemalan and foreign. There is not much in the middle.

As we left, we picked up another worker and drove him back down the hill where he joined the queue waiting for a chicken bus to take him home. And we drove back along the cobbled streets and back past trucks and bicycles and men pushing carts and women in colourful dresses with loads on their heads.