Iguana Saturday nights!

Since I'm on a roll with the photo thing, here are a few glimpses of the famous Iguana Saturday night barbecue/live music/cross-dressing/charity shots parties, which make up the mainstay of the Iguana bar profits and are the fixture around which the remaining days of the week turn (mainly because we're all incapacitated Sundays and spend Thursdays and Fridays promoting the party, leaving only three days to do any real work).

Like all Iguana parties, they start out quite tame... and then the Shots for Dots come out: 1Q from every flavoured vodka shot (take your pick from Rich's Monkey Love, Danni's Decider, Nat's Cherry Popper, Rusty's Baby Gravy, Airek's Knickerdropper, etc.) supports a children's charity in the village up the hill. Oh, and you get a cork-sized spot of tempera paint applied to your face by one of our amiable bar wenches. Amidst cries of "Do it for the kids!", who can say no? It's a slippery, steep and often scary slope from there.

Your gracious hosts for the evening:


Adam lines 'em up:


And we're off! Shots for dots, people, shots for dots.


Ummm... alright, you're in.


Iguana staff are all about sharing the love:


A lot of love.




No more drinks for you!


Me and Danni and Golden Boy. He might have had another name, but he was Golden Boy to us.


Adam and Danni.



That's Rich, the hotel manager, by the way. I know what you're thinking. Yes, he always looks that good.


And here's his alter-ego, Disco Rich. Honestly, how could you say no?

The bar staff might have had a few drinks by now. I can't remember.


And here we have Guatemala's finest, the Iguana management team past and present. Scary thought, isn't it?


Rusty does a fine pole dance.


But sometimes he just needs to take his clothes off and relax.


It's sooo true what they say. I have so much more fun in this wig.


I'm still trying to understand the unspoken ritual aspects of the mandance. I'm so lucky to have so many more weeks of field study ahead of me.


Wrong. So wrong.


Hey look, it's Nat and Danni. Take another photo, I don't think we got any of us yet tonight!


Cross-dressing, did I mention cross-dressing?


I probably shouldn't have been enjoying this quite so much.


As an aside, here we have Massive Headwound Rich.


After the party, Rich decided to take off his clothes and go for a swim off the dock. An unspecified amount of time later—he's not really sure—and clad only in damp boxers, he came tramping up the stairs to my balcony and flopped himself onto the bench. A handful of blood later, we realized there was something wrong, but no fear, we're Rescue Divers! Not to mention First Aid Instructors! We snapped into action and were more than happy to bandage our patient to the hilt.

And to giggle and smile for the camera as we recorded our handiwork.


This was the second time I've had to administer first aid to a head injury as a result of excessive drinking since I've arrived (er, not counting my own, which doesn't count anyway since it took place off-site). At least this time I wasn't woken up in the middle of the night with desparate cries of "IT'S A LIFE OR DEATH SITUATION!!" (for the record, it wasn't). I know what you're thinking: two head injuries in less than two months seems like a lot. And you're right. But having lived here a while, I'm starting to think that's a pretty damn good statistic.

Pics courtesy of Danni, as usual. Saturday's will never be the same without you, petal!


For more Iguana pics and Danni's generally wittier commentary, check out her blog.