¡Bienvenidas a Guatemala!
¨¡Bienvenidas!¨said Victor as I took his outstretched hand. It was my first personal contact since leaving Los Angeles and I was happy to see him. He instructed me to wait on the curb while he went and got the car. A gracious man, with no legs, in a wheelchair, selling pens, offered to keep an eye on me while Victor was off getting, what I assumed would be, some sort of official hotel vehicle. ¨God Bless You!¨ He repeated intently. The only response I could formulate was ¨ and you sir, god bless you!¨ The response was seemingly inappropriate because he had not, in fact, done anything that could be seen as a sneeze. After he realized I had no intention of purchasing a Bic pen wrapped in string he rolled on leaving me to people watch and hoard off persistent taxi drivers.
Victor soon approached the curb in a delapitated sedan manufacruted by my estimation somewhere in the 1980s. I jumped in and we headed to Dos Lunas, the hotel I had prearranged for my night in Guatemala City. Victor and I had a nice, basic, conversation in Spanish and he complimented me on my Spanish. This earned him a hefty tip the next day! He spoke no English, except two words I found out later, Muffin and Hot Cakes.
The hotel was nice and comfortable. I took a shower and attempted to go straight to bed. The adrenaline pumping through my body, kick started by my arrival at the airport, followed closely by the quick inhalation of excessive amounts of diesel smoke on the highway, and my careful watch of a hungry mosquito cruising by my bedside made it difficult to fall asleep. Alas, I did and awoke early the next morning for my bus to Quetzaltenango.
Victor was there at 630 AM and we jumped back in his car and headed to grab me some breakfast (included in my stay) at the fine local establishment, McDonalds. This is where Victor was able to impress me with his language skills asking if I preferred muffin or hot cakes. I said muffin, unfortunately getting exactly what I would have had I ordered in the states. Breakfast of coffee, diesel smoke, and an egg mcmuffin prepared me for the 4 hour bus ride to ´Xela´ I would soon be embarking on.
The bus was very comfortable and was much like a coach bus taken by Canterbury students to and from events but less dance parties and more excessive Spanish cell phone talking. I was seated in the front seat right behind the driver and thought it would be a great way to see the countryside as we drove into the mountains. This was unsuccesful as I fell asleep almost immediately and remained that way until we stopped for lunch at an otherwise looking abandon home. I purchased “un botella de agua” (my new best friend) and sat outside in the sun. A few minutes later I was approached by an American man who was very excited to chat and speak freely about his life and adventures.
Dean is a 71 year old man that has lived in Xela for 7 years. Anxious to assist, he called a friend to have us picked up at the bus terminal and driven to the city center. He lives in a hotel and I was able to get a room there as well. I am there tonight and tomorrow and will be taking a hike that was described as “1,000 stairs” tomorrow with a man named David and another student. The hike is to a volcano, or a mountain, or a lake, I didn´t quite catch it but I think it will be great!
