Quetzaltenango...or Xela for short

View of Xela from nearby hill

candidates of upcoming elections advertising

B and B San Bartolome

Cruz Roja (Red Cross) Xela

walking towards Parque Central with Cathedral as land mark

no traffic but it is 6am

Cathedral in main square

no clocks work in Guatemala. This one is stuck at 12

there's a lawyer and public notary on every street, still not sure why

Graffiti, part of the landscape

Even at 6am in the highlands of Guatemala, the smell of fuel is thick in the air and it burns my lungs. I am exploring Zone 1 around the Central Parque and getting my bearings on my first morning in Xela.

I arrived yesterday after a 4 and a half hour journey by “normal” bus from Guatemala City. I am still keen to have a “chicken bus” experience, but not when I have my luggage as well!

The bus drops me off at a depot nowhere near the city centre but I am told it will be easy to get a taxi. 30 minutes later I am still waiting, trying not to breathe as the slow moving traffic continues to belch clouds of black smoke into the street. Eventually I get a lift to the Parque Central (where else) with a work colleague of one of the other passengers and try to find my accommodation which is supposed to be a short walk away in 2 Avenida (second avenue).

After dragging my suitcase down a number of rough cobblestone streets and being given some wrong information I work out that my B and B is still 10 blocks away, but because it is middle of the day and I have been sitting down for ages I decide to keep walking.

B and B San Bartolome is basic but comfortable and Anabella, the gracious owner and her friendly staff are helpful and it is total language immersion as they speak no English. Armed with a map, I go off to explore and manage to find some cheese and yoghurt and a small supermarket.

I am caught in a heavy downpour without an umbrella (this is the normal afternoon weather pattern for winter here I am told) so decide to try to find a café I have read about as I am hungry. Café Cuartito is a funky little place hidden in a street just off the main square. I order some food and try to read an article in Spanish that Anabella has given me about her work with battered women. It is hard going and I ask a woman sitting next to me for the use of her dictionary. Cazzie is an Australian teacher who is travelling and working in Guatemala for 6 months. She would like to eventually get a job here in a school but for now her goal is to improve her Spanish skills. I arrange to meet her at her school later where she will introduce me to another friend who likes salsa dancing.

In my room at about 8.30pm with my hot water bottle (it is cold and still raining) I wonder what the next few weeks will bring. I have plans to speak to the Red Cross tomorrow and a member of the Human Rights Office of the Archdiocese of Guatemala city has offered to meet me in a few days. I also have a contact from Anabella and numerous agencies in town who offer voluntary work opportunities. I am not sure whether to enroll in a Spanish course or just muddle along and try to do some voluntary work and learn as I go. I fall asleep with the sound of rain pounding on the roof.

I wake up to the sound of dogs barking.

It is only 3am but dozing is the only possibility now as the barking continues without respite. Malnourished dogs are a common sight here. At 6 I get up and go for a walk. Many people are already out and about and the Xela is waking up. I notice that in almost every street is a sign advertising abogado y notario (layer and public notary) and wonder why so many are needed in such a small place.

I find the Red Cross and then the Red Café where I have been told I might get some information about work possibilities. I walk past Mayan women in their distinct skirts and shirts and people going to work. I watch street vendors setting up and shoe shiners with their first customers and I do my qigong in the central parque in front of a still asleep homeless man.

I don’t know why, but today I feel homesick.

I miss clean air and clean beaches and being able to go to the shop and find what you need. I miss my friends and my family and familiar food and routines and places.

I am sick of pollution and politics and poverty and of showering in tiny bathrooms with unreliable water and living out of a suitcase and struggling to find something to eat that is nutritious and won’t make me sick and remembering to bring a tissue with me to the toilet, and then throwing that soiled tissue into a bin (you can’t even throw toilet paper into the toilet in Guatemala) and most of all I am sick of having to think ahead, to the next form of transport and the next destination and finding accommodation and “being careful” because people care about me and are worried.

I know a lot of people would love to swap places with me right now, but travelling, like all things, involves moments of frustration as well as joy.

So…I allow the energy of this moment to seep in without trying to change it or deny it…and like all things it passes, besides it helps to remember that it is my choice to be here.

Later I meet up with Cazzie and she takes me to a tiny hole in the wall where the owner makes delicious toasted sandwiches with fresh cheese, tomato and basil…and with a belly full of fresh food and good company all is right with the world again.

Hasta luego

Mon x