The People That You Meet, part 2

I thought that I wouldn’t have too much more to say for a while, since Saturday was just spent in transit.  But I met a few more very interesting people while traveling home, and I wanted to share their stories.

On the way from Antigua to the  airport, I took a shared shuttle that continued on to other cities in Guatemala after dropping a few of us off at the airport.  One of those other passengers was a young girl from Newton, Massachusetts,  who has been living in the city of Quetzaltenago (Xela) for a few months.  I never even learned her name but she explained to me that she completed 3 semesters at Haverford College and then decided to take a year off because she can’t decide what she wants to study.  Not because she hasn’t found anything that she likes; rather there are so many varied subjects interest her: languages, neuroscience, chemistry, cultural linguistics.   So to improve her Spanish and get some life experience, she is living with a host family in Xela for a few months and volunteering in a veterinary clinic.  Then she will spend a few months volunteering in Gabon, West Africa so she can improve her French.  This girl couldn’t have been more than 19 or 20 years old but I was really struck by her maturity and self assurance.  When I think of myself at that age, I couldn’t imagine having had the courage to take on such challenges.  Who am I kidding, I couldn’t imagine it now! 

When I arrived at my gate at the airport, I ran into John, who I had met the week before on bus from the airport to Antigua.  We shared stories of our very different experiences in Guatemala and talking to him made the time pass quickly.  He got upgraded to first class (and I didn’t!) so I didn’t see him again after boarding the plane.

On the flight I was seated on the aisle.  In the middle seat was a 67 year old tiny indiginous campesino from the mountains of Guatemala who was on his way to visit his son in Trenton, New Jersey.  I never learned his name, so I will call him el Jefe (the Boss), which how my other seatmate referred to him.  Seated by the window was Cristobal, a Guatemalan man in his 50s who has lived in Union City, New Jersey for over 20 years and was retuning home from visiting his elderly mother in Guatelmala City.  He was very friendly and outgoing and chatted with both me and el Jefe throughout the flight.  Even though Cristobal spoke English well, we all spoke exclusively in Spanish and he seemed very proud and excited that I enjoyed visiting his country and speaking his language so much.  On this 4 1/2 hour flight, I had the Spanish immersion experience that was lacking for so much of my trip!  It was touching to see how Cristobal took el Jefe under his wing, writing out the phonetic spelling of some common English phrases for him, and helping him complete the customs and integration forms.  As we were exiting the plane, el Jefe took out a small plastic bag of peanuts to share with us.  He poured about half of the bag into Critobal’s backpack, then closed up the bag and handed it to me.  I politely tried to  refuse but he was insistant, saying that it was because we had shared the trip with him.   I was really so moved that this man who most likely has nothing ( in a material sense), was so generous with total strangers.   Unfortunately, we all ended up on different lines  going through immigration and since I finished much more quickly as a US citizen, I didn’t see either of them again at baggage claim.  So I never had the opportunity to say good bye to my 2 new Guatemalan friends.

On the bus from Newark Airport to Port Authority, I started chatting  to the woman seated behind me (OK, to be totally honest, I was complaining about how long it was taking for the bus to leave, how tired I was, and how much I needed to  go to the bathroom).  It turned out that she also lives on the upper west side, so we decided to share a cab from the bus terminal.  In the taxi I learned that she works as a theater manager/producer, so we started talking about theater, which I absolutely love.   We didn’t exchange contact information, but she was someone else that I had fun  talking to and was happy to meet.

It’s funny how a day that consisted of nothing more than getting from one place to another ended up being so enjoyable.  Ttraveling alone makes me much more open to meeting new people and and this openess turned what could have been just an exhausting shlep into a great day.

Adios, Guatemala!

Well, tomorrow it’s time to go home.  I love the city of Antigua and had some wonderful experiences during my week here:  listening to this wonderful old Cuban singer last night, the fabulous massage, and my totally fun private salsa class immediately come to mind.   I loved strolling on the old cobblestone streets, visiting traditional markets and relaxing in charming cafes.  But to be totally honest, I was disappointed in both my Spanish classes and the homestay.

I was aware that my first instinct would be to compare this experience to when I did a similar program in Costa Rica in 2002.  Although my teacher Anabella, and my host family, Gloria and Rodolfo were lovely, I didn’t develop anywhere near the same type of relationship that I developed and continue have with with my Spanish teachers and host family from Costa Rica.  Of course, it’s possible that with more time I’d feel more comfortable, but if I were staying here longer, I’d actually be looking to change schools, teachers and homestays.  I have concluded that Antigua is simply not a good place to study Spanish.  It’s a very small city with over 100 Spanish schools, along with a large expat community.  Everywhere you turn, people are speaking English so it’s hard to have a true immersion experience.  My teacher here has the equivalent of  high school diploma, whereas in Costa Rica the teachers were all college educated, with many working towards advanced certifications and degrees.  I didn’t feel that Anabella (and likely many of the teachers in Guatemala) has the level of sophistication and skill to teach advanced level students.  In my classes in Costa Rica we discussed such topics as world politics and the role of women in society.  Here we spoke about Anabella’s family, my life in New York and other more commonplace topics.  The school was very poorly equipped with no materials at my level.  Luckily, I had brought a book of very short stories by the Uruguyan writer, Eduardo Galleano.  I also bought a book here that compiled oral traditions describing spirits that haunt Antigua.  Without these books, I don’t know what we would have done.  In addition, the homestays in Antigua generally consist of 4 or 5 students, which gives it a feeling of a hotel or rooming house, whereas in Costa Rica I was the only student living in the  house at that time.  We talked to Gloria and Rodolfo basically during meals, which lasted between 15 and 30 minutes.  In Costa Rica, sometimes I spent  hours hanging out and talking to the family I lived with.  Here, with the exception of the dining room, I never even entered the family’s living quarters.  (The house is set up with rooms around a courtyard, the students all entered our rooms directly from the patio.)

That basically sums up my week in Guatemala.  Even though there were some disappointments, overall I had a great time.  Thanks to everyone who has been following me on this journey.  I have really enjoyed writing this and will continue posting from time to time in New York and then more frequently when I embark on my next adventure.

Life in the Third World

In all of my years of traveling, I’ve visited quite a few countries that are considered to be part of the third world or developing world.  To me, these seem to be fairly useless designations, but signify, if nothing else, that they are considerably poor.  Sometimes that poverty is glaring:  Young children of 7 or 8 years of age bagging groceries in a supermarket in Cancun, Mexico, or children begging on the street and teenage prostitutes in the Dominican Republic.  Here too, in Guatemala there are signs of extreme poverty, mostly in the form of begging in the street.  Deet, the massage therapist that I met a few days ago, told me that 60 % of the population lives in poverty.  I haven’t confirmed that number with any official sources but based on what I’ve seen, I have no reason to believe it’s not accurate.  What’s undeniable is that it’s heartbreaking to observe but it’s also a reality of life in much of the world and therefore important to be aware of.

What I’ve been thinking about lately, though, is the lives of the more or less middle and upper classes in a country like Guatemala.

My Spanish teacher, Anabella, is married with 3 children, ages 15, 13 and 9.  Her husband works in a gas station in a bookkeeper or accountant type position. In Guatemala, I don’t think that a university degree is required to teach Spanish in these private language schools for foreigners.  It appears that she has the equivalent of a high school degree.  I don’t know how much education her husband has.  They recently constructed a house on some land that her in-laws gave them, and her husband’s salary basically pays the bank loan for the house and private (Catholic) school for their 3 kids.  Anabella feels that the quality of the public schools is not adequate, therefore they scrimp and save so the kids can attend low cost private schools.  The owner of my school has been away for a while, so she didn’t receive her salary last week.  This left the family without money to even buy food.  On top of their normal expenses, it was her daughter’s 13th birthday last week and all they were able to find was 100 quetzales ($12.50) to buy her a present.  Anabella explained to me that the her daughter really needs a new pair of shoes but it’s not quite enough money.  She told her daughter that when they can save a little bit more, they will buy her a pair of (most likely used) shoes for her birthday.  Despite this family’s own financial struggles, Anabella is involved in a group that is trying to form an organization to help families affected by domestic violence and she also told me that around Christmas time her kids give their used clothes to children who have even less than they do.

Gloria and Rodolfo are the couple in whose house I am staying.  They are in their late 50’s.  Rodolfo is a retired manager at a government office and Gloria is a former teacher who now works part-time in an administrative capacity in a school.  They have 3 adult children:  one lives in North Carolina with his family, one lives in a neighboring town in Guatemala with her family, and the third is returning home after a few months in the US.  By anyone’s standards, they appear to have all the trappings of a comfortable life:  a nice house, 2 fairly new cars, a Dell laptop, a washing machine, etc.  In addition to Gloria’s income (and I suppose Rodolfo receives a pension but don’t know for sure) they make quite a nice income from renting out rooms to students.  $90 per week for a room and 3 meals per day from Monday through Friday sounds like a steal, but consider that at this moment there are 4 students staying with them (and this is low-season).  That’s $360 for the week and there is no way that we are eating anywhere close to $360 worth of food.  Gloria serves a lot of rice, beans, vegetables,  and tortillas, usually with a small portion of chicken or meat.    However, despite the relative luxury of this home, there are some details that would be unthinkable to most Americans.  For example, as is the case in every bathroom that I’ve used here (including restaurants, the Spanish school, etc.), you cannot throw toilet paper (or anything else) in the toilet bowl.  In every bathroom, there is a small garbage pail next to the toilet (which hopefully is cleaned frequently).  The pipes are just too old and fragile to be able to flush down paper.  In addition, the sinks only have cold water.  This means that every time you wash your hands or wash dishes, it is with cold water.  Since there is no hot water, the showers are equipped with electric water heaters.  These are often referred to as “suicide showers” since the electricity is running so close to the water.   It’s quite a skill to strike a balance between decent water pressure and hot water because you can’t have both!

It’s surprising how easy it is to adapt to these minor inconveniences.  There really is so much that we as Americans take for granted.

The People That You Meet

For me, one of the biggest joys of traveling is meeting all kinds of people from all over the world.  Sometimes those are locals, and other times they might be tourists, international students or expats. The more off-the-beaten-track the destination is, the quirkier and more interesting the people are.  For example, at an all-inclusive resort in Barbados, Ricardo and I met 2 young women from Virginia who decided to skip dinner one night so they could get drunk more quickly.  In Costa Rica this year, we met wonderful people from Uruguay, Sweden and Montreal.

Many people have told me that they think it would be lonely to travel alone.  I find it fairly easy to meet people in general and even more so when I am alone.  Guatemala is pretty special and I have really enjoyed meeting the people who are attracted to a place like this.

On Sunday morning I was walking around taking pictures and started talking to a gentleman who was trying to get the same shot as me.  After chatting for a few minutes, he asked me if I wanted to join him for brunch.  I had just eaten breakfast but said  I’d join him for a cup of coffee.  Ron is a 63 year old retired school social worker from Chicago who has been to Guatemala numerous times and with the primary purpose of collecting huipiles, which are woven and elaborately embroidered tunics worn by indiginious women.  They cost anywhere from maybe $100 to well over $1000.  He told me that he has 119 and his goal is to collect at least one from every region of the country.  Why anyone would feel the need to have so many of these that they cannot even all be displayed is a mystery to me, but it was interesting learning about this rather unusual collection.

Later that afternoon, I was walking in the mercado (not the touristy craft market, but rather the normal market where locals buy bootleg CDs and fake adidas sweatpants) when I heard “Hey, Jill.”  My immediate thought was “Who knows me in Guatemala?” (Remember, I had just arrived the afternoon before.)  It turned out to be John, who was on the shared shuttle van that I took from the airport.  We made plans to meet later that day for coffee.  Again, it was  very enjoyable talking to  John, who  claims to be anti-social but appeared to be quite friendly.

There are 3 other students living in my homestay besides myself.  Laurence is 20 years old, from Zurich and arrived in Guatemala a few weeks, after spending some time in Cuba where he seems to have fallen in love with quite a few girls.  He will stay in Guatemala and so some volunteer work for a while, and then I believe he will continue to travel around Central and South America.  Jenny is 27 or 28, and is a teacher in Australia.  After studying Spanish here for a while, she will make her way through Central and South America and eventually fly back to Australia from Argentina.  Rowena is 32, originally from London and now living in Brighton, England. She is recently married and is here because she really wants to improve her Spanish, but her husband was unable to come.  I don’t know if it’s because she is the closest to my age, but I feel closest to her out of everyone in the house, although I really like the others as well.  They are all studying at a different school than I am, and they all knew each other before I arrived but have all been really welcoming and include me completely whenever they make plans.

And this brings me to the last person that I will introduce you to.  Yesterday afternoon, I was strolling aimlesslly, when I ran into Rowena.  She was headed to a bagel restaurant (yes, really, a bagel restaurant) that shows movies every afternoon and evening.  As we were looking at the schedule for the week, an older American woman pulled up to the restauant on a bicycle and started talking to us about the movies.  It turns out that her name is Deet, she  has lived in Antigua for 16 years and makes a living as a massage therapist.  She charges $13 for an hour massage!  As she was writing down her phone number so  I could call to make an appointment for some time this week, I happened to ask if she had availability that afternoon.  She did, so we set off for her house, she on her bike and me on foot.  She is without a doubt one of the most interesting, engaging, and quirky people I have ever met in my life and the massage was one of the best that I have ever had.  It was a style that was not familiar to me, called Esalen.  I think it’s kind of based on eastern philosophy, and probably a little more new-agey than I am normally comfortable with, but it was really a fabulous experience, both the massage and the time I spent talking to Deet.  It wasn’t one of those massages where you feel beat-up afterwards, but rather I was left in a state of total relaxation.

I wish it were so easy to strike up conversations with strangers in our normal lives.  Imagine how much richer our lives would be if more people talked to each other.  Just something to ponder…

Sense of Direction (or Lack Thereof)

It seems like a cruel joke that someone who loves traveling as much as I do has such a bad sense of direction. (It’s also not fair that I love speaking Spanish so much and have no innate ability for languages, but that’s another topic.) To compensate for my non-existent sense of direction, I always make sure I have a map with me and constantly stop to reorient myself. I don’t mind doing this, it’s simply what works for me. Antigua is pretty easy to navigate; it’s basically a grid with avenues running north to south and streets running east to west. In the center of the city is the Parque Central and addresses are either north, south, east or west of the Park. For example, the address of my Spanish school is 7a avinida poniente, #11. This means that it’s on 7th avenue, west (poniente) of the park (or the city center), and the building number is 11. When I was here last year with my friends from Costa Rica, they navigated very differently. Since Costa Rica doesn’t really use street names or building numbers, everything is based on landmarks. Here in Antigua there is a large volcano just south of the city. Our hotel was toward the north, so we basically had to walk toward the volcano to get anywhere we wanted to go, and kind of knew where things were based on proximity to various churches, restaurants, etc. I never really felt like I knew exactly where I was! Now that I’m here by myself, I look at my map before I set off for anywhere and refer to it as many times as I need to to get where I am going.

Sunday was my onlycompletely free day, since the rest of the week I will be in Spanish classes from 8 AM to noon. I spent the day in cafes, restaurants, crafts markets and just walking around taking pictures. I was happy to be able to go at my own pace, see and do exactly what I wanted and am proud to report that I was able to find everything that I was looking for and didn’t get hopelessly lost! Actually, sometimes getting lost can be the best part of traveling because of unexpected discoveries.

I really enjoyed my first day of Spanish classes with my teacher, Anabella. One of the good things of private lessons is the flexibility; we do not have to stay in the school, although there is a beautiful courtyard and I was able to have my classes outside in the sun this morning, which I enjoyed immensely. However, the second half of the morning we left the school and walked around the city for about an hour. Tomorrow we are going to visit a Macadamia farm, which sounds really interesting.

Travel in the Time of Swine Flu

I was curious about how this global pandemic (or global panic, depending on your perspective) is affecting air travel.   Aside from a prominent display of Purell at a shop at Newark Airport this morning, there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary.  Landing at Guatemala, however, was another story.  Almost all of the airport employees were wearing masks, and there were signs all over listing the symptoms of  “influenza porcina” and the dangers of infected people entering the country.  Before passing through immigration, everyone had to fill out a checklist asking if you have any of the obvious symptoms: fever, cough, sneezing, headache, muscle aches, etc.  I have had very bad allergies this week and have been sniffling and sneezing up a storm, and I have to admit that I lied on the form because I seriously was afraid that if I answered honestly they wouldn´t let me into the country.  But I was careful not to sneeze in front of any officials and I snuck in.

I took a shared shuttle with some other tourists from the airport to Antigua and we set off to find my house.  Guatemala is definitely a step ahead of Costa Rica in terms of streets having names and houses having numbers, but I don´t exactly understand how my house, number 16, is right after houses numbered 5A, 5B and 5C.  Luckily everyone seems to know everybody and some neighbors were able to direct us.  The house where I am staying is very nice, with some pretty outdoor courtyards, but it seems almost more like a small hotel than a true homestay.  There is capactity for (I think) 6 students, and there are 3 or 4 now including me.  The others are all away for the weekend so I only met the owners, Glora and Rodolfo.  They seem pleasant enough but they have their own living space and my room is up a flight of stairs in a different part of the house.  I don´t think we´ll be hanging out much.  I now have to go find something to eat.  Three meals a day are included in the homestay, but only from Monday through Friday.  I want to get back to the house before it gets dark because I was talking to  an American  girl who lives across the street said it´s not safe to walk around at night.  But I´m from New York.  How bad can it be?