I flew United, and was lucky enough to find myself in business class with plenty of leg room. A meal was served, though I didn't indulge in the yellow and green hockey-puck the stewardess served instead of scrambled eggs. What's that old joke about airplane food? Sat next to me was a 16 year old Guatemalan-Nebraskan named Robresy. She left Guatemala with her family when she was 7 years old and has been living in Lincoln, Nebraska ever since. Today was her first trip home since then, and she was staying for the entire summer. We shared nervous jitters about the flight and filled out customs paperwork together – it was nice to have a friend. I tore through my Fodor's guidebook for the duration of the trip, dogearing pages and making lists of the cities and landmarks I want to visit on the weekends. For the first time, this trip began to feel real to me. I pour through the maps and wonder how just how many destinations I can fit into this trip. Finally, we landed. With a brief stop to exchange some money - “Puedo tener cincuenta dolares en quetzals, por favor?” - my companion and I made our way to Baggage Claim, and with the tight hug that results from saying goodbye to a fast friend, we went our separate ways.
Arrival
I leave the airport and am faced with an enormous crowd of people behind barricades, all clamoring to see who will walk out the door next. A policeman leads me to a man holding a Cross Cultural Solutions sign, Victor. Victor is one of the drivers and will assist us with most any travel. He takes me to a cafe to the side where three girls are already waiting, and tells me three more are coming. I meet Hallie, Kim and Alex, all three around my age, staying in Guatemala for 6 weeks, 4 and 4, respectively. We chat until Ann and her two daughters, Harbour and Willow, 7th grade- and 4th grade- age, arrive with Victor. They will only be staying one week. Then, we're off.
Victor takes us to a pick up zone and tells us to wait while he gets the van. A small girl stops me with big, sad doe eyes and begs for money. I tell her No, embarrassed. That will take some getting used to. When Victor pulls up, he is driving a giant, purple spaceship of a bus. We pile in with our luggage and head to Zona 2, where our home-base is located.
Everyone in Guatemala drives a motorcycle. They zip in between cabs and buses, and are lined up, parked along every street as if there was a Bike Rally going on. The traffic is so bad, there's no question why. The city is both beautiful and ugly. Modern structures pepper blocks ancient brick buildings. We see street vendors, churches, and children begging, even juggling in the street. The houses and shacks are all different colors. With the vibrant purples and greens, the loud music, old buildings, narrow streets and abundant graffiti, I could very well be in a Latino New Orleans.
Casa
We arrived at the Home-base just in
time for lunch. After a brief tour of the house and introduction to
the staff, we were served delicious mashed yucca, chicken, some sort of fruit and other dish that I could not name, but ate anyway.
