Guatemala Stories - Part 1

Story Time, Pal!

So here begin my stories of Guatemala. I have so many of them crowding my mind, but I know that the memories will fade with time, if not the feeling and utter magic that I found. So every week or so, I'm putting my fingers to the keyboard, committing the journey and all that it entailed to the vast world of cyber-ness. I'm hoping to keep my memories fresh, or at least as fresh as time allows me. I'm also hoping that someone, somewhere, might be moved to....I don't know, get out there, anywhere, expand yourself, test yourself, find your joy! If you think I'm being melodramatic, go here for a little inspiration. I guarantee, you'll have ants in your travel pants before you can say, "What's the next flight outta here?!?!".


Why I Decided to Go to Guatemala and My Perpetual Earliness


I decided to spend a month in Guatemala back in February or March of last year. Once I decided on Guatemala, I was on the moon. Planning, packing, vaccinations - I was on it! I've been drawn to Latin America since, well, forever really. It's been an intangible something; call it a past life, call it what you will, it was there, inside me and I felt it. Guatemala was my choice mainly by chance. Central America, especially, has always appealed to me, not only because it seemed extravagantly exotic, but because the history there called to me like a siren. The suffering, the dictators and civil wars, the oppression, and the U.S' role in all of that drew me. Maybe it was guilt, more likely it was a sense of needing to be there and witness, experience it for myself. Regardless, or rather, because of, all of that, I set my sights on Guatemala. My excitement was unbounded, not in the least because I'd only been out of the country once before that, the summer before when I stayed in Dominica for a month.



After a tad of research, I'd decided on going to the Peten department, the northernmost part of Guatemala. I'd fly into Guat City, then take a bus to Flores, and on to San Andres, home to Volunteer Peten where I'd be volunteering and staying with a house family. Even thinking about it in the abstract was exhilirating and terrifying, and throw on top of that the fact that my Spanish was beyond dismal - was actually non-existant - well, good luck, gal!



I left my home in the beginning of June, 2008, my youngest son stowed safely with my grandparents and my oldest on the way to my mom's. I was flying out of Houston (G. W. Bush International actually, kinda makes you a bit gladder to leave, eh?) for the 2 1/2 hour flight into Guatemala City. Now, let me add here that I am a perpetually early person. It's kind of a sickness, but I live with it, however much it drives me insane. So here I am at the Houston airport, sitting, walking waiting, for around 2 hours. Bleh! Can't I just be there already? I'm reading crappy, overpriced magazines, and looking at the peole who are going to Guatemala City with me. Some Hispanic looking people, some white people, Spanish being thrown around. Crap! Really, why didn't I put more effort into learning this language?? Why didn't the half of my family that can speak Spanish teach me?? At this point, I'm a little disgusted with myself. I will not be one of THOSE Americans. Ugh......

Finally, after years of painful waiting, we all board the plane. The whole flight, all I can think about is Guatemala, that still-fuzzy vision in my head. My hopes and expectations are completely sky-high, and yet, I somehow know that it will be even better than I expect. Just another one of those feelings. And then, finally, our plane is descending...

Coming up next time: Love at First Sight, and Why I Was Still Cursing My Sorry Spanish (hint: a few awkward moments.....)