I kept a daily journal in a notebook while I was traveling, and I decided to type some of it and include it in this blog.
I've also included some photos that I took, and I posted an entire set (minus some embarrassing shots) over on facebook.
So, without further adieu:
September 12, 2010
As I was exiting my flight from Detroit to Fort Lauderdale, a woman, who reminded me of my mother, saw me reading my traveler's guidebook about Guatemala and asked, “Oh, are you going to Guatemala? I am, too.” We then had a two hour discussion about social justice while we waited for our flight to Guatemala City. She told me about building houses in Tijuana, Mexico, helping families plan funerals after their loved ones pass away and having a daughter who works on Microcredit in developing countries.
She told me she thinks of social justice as having two feet: one foot that provides immediate assistance/charity and the other that examines the root cause(s) of the problem. Only when you have both feet can you stand, and also move forward. I told her I hadn’t heard it described that way before but that I appreciated her sharing the analogy with me.
We critiqued the IMF and factory farming and pondered about remedies for Detroit’s poverty. We went on to speak about the demonization of immigrants and the cluelessness of gigantic SUV-drivers. I had originally intended to spend the time during my lay-over calling friends and family and letting them know I was safe, but I found it much more enjoyable to speak to a stranger, whose name I never did get, about hope and change.
I was nervous the entire flight to Guatemala, but I was calmed by a Canadian couple who now make their home outside of Guatemala City, where they go door-to-door trying to convert people to become Jehovah’s Witnesses (wonder how you say “watchtower” in Spanish?). They warned me that I would frequently see dogs on the street being mistreated (stones thrown at them, etc.) and it wasn’t long before I spotted neglected dogs for myself. When I exited the airport, there was one roaming the sidewalks nearby.
When I first left the airport’s main door, I didn’t see a sign with my name on it (as I was promised by the school). There seemed to be an endless sea of faces and signs with other names on them. Finally, after five minutes and turning down multiple offers for cabs, I spotted my name. I hopped in the shuttle bus and immediately began using Spanish. The driver and I spoke about basic things - where I was from, how long I was planning to stay, etc. We even managed to make each other laugh a few times.
After 45 minutes, he dropped me off and showed me to my room in the student guesthouse that I would call home for the next month. I was struck by the difference in architecture I saw (compared with the Midwestern structures I was used to). The house featured tin roofs, two terraces and areas with open ceilings.
Once in the house, I met Miranda, one of my housemates. She's originally from Texas and moved to Guatemala to lead eco-tours. She and I share a love for travel and need for movement and change, although I have a feeling she's more adventurous than I am.
I slept most of my first day as I was so exhausted from weeks of sleep deprivation. To my surprise and delight, I was able to sleep like a baby. I suppose that happens when you temporarily leave your daily life behind and your biggest worry is learning to conjugate irregular verbs like "poner."
Some shots of the guesthouse:
And the view from outside our front door:
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