Africa On My Mind, and A Guatemala Story

Africa



So, my brain has been completely occupied with thoughts of Africa for the past week or so. This Africa obsession happens every couple of months or so, and now I guess the time has come again. It starts with me watching my Africa movie staples (Hotel Rwanda and The Constant Gardener), throw in a documentary or two (this time it was Wardance and Invisible Children) and I'm a total goner. I have a feeling I could easily fall in love with that continent. No, wait, scratch that; I'm already in love with that continent and I've never even been there.



I'll give you one of my favorite quotes, it originated with my professor in Dominica and I tweaked it a bit

"My heart is New Mexican, my rhythm is African, and my soul is Latin American." Seems to fit pretty well. And at first, I underestimated the rhythm part. Now, I'm pretty sure it's something much deeper, something primeval and essential.



Guatemala Stories, Part 2



When last my story left off, I was just descending into Guatemala City. My level of excitement was through the roof and I had a fire burning in me. The air felt different the second I stepped out of plane and into the airport. Let me just say here, if you've never been in an airport outside of the U.S., there is something very different about an airport in a developing/third world/whatever-you-wanna-call-it country. They're not as shiny and sharp as aiports in the U.S., you feel under less pressure, I think.



So, I'm walking through the hallways, trying to find the exit. I, of course, just follow everyone else, hoping that my destination is the same as the majority of the people who were on that plane with me. And then, at last! I see the exit doors, and holy crap. There are about a zillion people standing right outside the door, waiting for people, I'm guessing. My stomach knots slightly as I start looking for my pick-up. I've made "reservations" at a hostel in the city (Los Volcanes) and someone is supposed to be picking me up at the airport. I'm looking for a sign, my name, anything. I'm a ball of excitement and anxiety rolled into one, my body is litterly zinging with anticipation. And then, through the sea of brown humanity, there! A sign: "Hostal Los Volcanes". YES! Confidence returns and I drag my large, ungainly suitecase over to the guy holding the wonderful sign (this is the first of many times on my trip when I curse myself for not backpacking it). I smile, "Hola! Soy Krysten, are you waiting for me?" Oh crap, even my Spanglish sucks, with less "span" than "glish". The guy grins a shy grin, rattles something off in Spanish. Confidence is slowly leaking away but I keep my cool. This is who I am, I think to myself, a savvy, broad-minded, kick-ass gal who can confidently and compassionately find her way through any situation, even with (especially with) a language barrier. And then.....we just stand there.

I'm assuming we're waiting for someone, as this guy isn't leading me away to a comfy bed in a dorm. So we smile and grin at each other every now and then as we wait. I begin to feel to first edges of an uncomfortable situation creeping up, but I push it back, very determined not to let that Krysten out; you know, the one who let uncomfortable situations take her over, instead of enjoying a moment for what it is. And, wonders of wonders, I succeed! I close my eyes, breathe in Guatemala, and smile. I am here.

After a bit, I strike up a conversation with a girl who's asked for a lighter (see, there actually can be some benefits to smoking!), and find out that we're headed for towns that are like 2 miles from each other. She says she's working with a women's weaving coop, and I tell her that I think that's bad ass! (with exclamation point and all!)

Finally, after standing around about 15 minutes, another guy comes over, Spanish is exchanged with Spanish speakers, he smiles, says hello and leads me to a van. He and I manage to communicate, he (Tomas, by the way) with his bad English and me with my bad Spanish. I find out the first guy is his cousin, and Tomas works at the hostel.

Guatemala City is big and dirty, with bright colors everywhere, and a Kentucky Fried Chicken. (Ich, already??) I love it, every single bit of it. Already, I'm happy. Already, I feel comfortable. My soul feels at home. You know how it is, when you hear a certain song, or smell a certain smell, or see a certain cloudy sky, and you feel as if you've come, finally, to your home of all homes? Guatemala was that for me. And I'd only been there for 20 minutes.

Coming up next: Meeting Fellow Travelers, and "Heeeey, Guapas!"