Guatemala

The brand new Interjet Airbus A320 with leather seats and captained by a woman bores down the runway. Surprisingly the plane is not full, as the price for a one way fare was a third of what Aero Mexico was charging. I am impressed with the crew and their attention to service and safety.

As the plane approaches V1, I watch the monitor. I imagine “rotate” being said in the flight deck as the plane lifts off.

It’s a nice touch to allow the passengers to watch the take off and landing.

The flight to Guatemala City takes an hour and a half. I look out the window to the dense green jungle below and there is a sense of exhilaration and adventure.

The airport is brand new and formalities are over very quickly. Unlike many other immigration officials (Australia’s included who seem to think that passengers are all potential terrorists) the Guatemalan officials are welcoming and friendly.

I change some US dollars into QZ (Quetzals) and scan the crowd in the arrivals hall for my driver. Carlos is holding up a sign with my name on it (I just love being met at the airport) and we are soon heading towards the historic centre (Zona 1) and Posada Belen where I have booked in for a couple of days.

The first thing that strikes me about Guatemala is the pollution. Black dense smoke spews out of almost every car, bus and truck that we pass, and everywhere graffiti and security screens, albeit often ornate and attractive.

My accommodation is a nice surprise, with warm colours decorating the hacienda style house. An internal tropical courtyard complete with resident turtles is a central feature. Discrete, comfortable sitting areas with books on Mayan history and art, pottery and artwork everywhere. Somehow it all works without feeling cluttered. Nilo and Juan, the staff are welcoming and helpful. I am soon settled in, with filtered water and a map to find my way to the Parque Central.

Although I am a bit put off by all the security, (the house is completely surrounded by security screens and you have to ring a bell to enter and be let out) I am assured that it is safe to walk around.

Like most Parque Central’s in Central America and Cuba, there are usually imposing buildings (often a cathedral) and Government office and expensive hotels lining the square. The latter are not visible to me here, but everywhere shoe shops and street vendors. In the square are shoe shiners and hawkers selling food and trinkets, and everywhere pigeons and photographers offering to take photos with them.

You hear them, before you see them, the wheels of their carts creaking noisily as they push them across the square announcing their arrival. Young Mayan women, some with a baby slung behind them, dressed in colourful dresses, their carts filled with baskets of fruit, food, hot drinks or nuts that they sell to locals or tourists.

I sit for a while in the square people-watching. Next to me, an almost toothless Mayan woman with a shoe shining business chats to a male friend and glances briefly over to my black ballet shoes, a mess of dusty frayed leather. She doesn’t even ask if she can polish them! After a while I ask her in Spanish how much it would cost. She seems surprised that I would even bother, but asks 2 pesos, just a few cents. While she does her best, I chat to her and her companion and we are soon firm friends. She seems genuinely surprised when I pay her, but I tell her she has given my shoes life again!

Somehow I find the central Mercado behind the Catedral and as I climb down the steps into the food hall the aromas of local cooking remind me that I am hungry. Although it looks and smells good I decide to wait to try the street food until I ‘acclimatise” and buy some rambutan fruit instead, eating the sweet flesh while I walk through the market, the only tourist, enjoying the experience and feeling content.

Later, back at Casa Belen, I meet Martha, an older lady from Philadelphia, who has been coming to Guatemala for 10 years to work with a “sister” Episcopalian church. She tells me of her husband Fred, who initially did not approve of her coming to Guatemala, fearing for her safety, but in the years before he died, accompanied her and came to love the country and its people as much as her does. Her eyes mist over as she talks about him and I ask her to tell me about their relationship.

“ He said that we rubbed the rough edges off each other until we fit together” she said “and he was right”

She tells me of her church's work and her love of the Mayan people and culture and invites me to meet a friend of hers, a local woman who is working to improve the conditions of lowly paid employees in the country. I learn a lot from speaking with Martha and later her friend Laura, particularly about the politics and living conditions for people in Guatemala. They tell me of the upcoming elections and the possibility of violence.

I have just returned from a walk and am not sure it was a good idea. I woke up this morning at about 5 to the sound of a convoy of trucks and buses. Turns out it is just early morning traffic in Guatemala City!

When I venture out at about 6.30am, I step into a cloud of black exhaust fumes. One street from my accommodation is the main arterial road leading into and out of the city and I can barely breathe as the dense burns my throat. I almost think it is worse than Havana.

It seems pointless, but I walk to the square and find a spot under a pergola to do my qigong, and watch the city waking up. As I focus on the movements and tune into my senses, my body and mind responds, and I am soon feeling calm and relaxed. I notice the Mayan women serving hot drinks and food to the shoe shiners and other street vendors. I notice the colours, sights and smells of this place, its order and rhythm, and I sense the connections and energy of its inhabitants, and for a moment I am a part of it.

I am having “typical” breakfast back at the casa. Frijoles (beans), fried plantain, scrambled eggs and queso (cheese) and the café con leche (latte) is just what I need. Today I am going to visit the Red Cross office and depending on what they say I will make plans for the next part of my trip.

Hasta luego

Mon x