First couple days in Antigua

First of all, for all of you who deemed it my due time to have a bad airplane experience after having won the airplane seat lottery twice now, you may be happy to know that on my flight from Miami to Guatemala, I was seated next to a rather large Guatemalan man who took the liberty of taking over our shared arm rest and then some, snored quite heavily in his sleep, and unabashedly passed musical gas at will. Thankfully it was only a 3 hour flight.

I arrived in Guatemala City Sunday night at about 7:15 PM but by the time I got through Immigration and Customs it was closer to 8:30. Outside the airport, there was a large crowd of people waiting behind gates for the arrivals, but my driver was holding a big sign with my name on it so I spotted him without a problem. Samuel was a full head shorter than me, but he marched up to me boldly with rosy cheeks and a big smile and firmly shook my hand before taking my bag and loading it in the van.

Samuel sped through the streets in the white van, gregariously chatting in what was quite good English, not nearly as phased as I was by the fact that we nearly sideswiped and rear-ended multiple cars several times and almost had a head-on collision with a school bus that was coming down the wrong way on a one-way street. I distracted myself by taking advantage of the absence of a communication barrier to ask several questions including how to go about exchanging money, what the dangerous areas of the city are, and how cell phone credit works in this country. As we left Guatemala City, the paved roads curved up a mountain, then descended until we slowed down and turned onto a cobblestone road, at which point Samuel turned to me and said, “Kristina, Bienvenidos a Antigua”.

Antigua is much smaller than I expected. Its roads are entirely made up of cobblestone and run perpendicular and parallel to each other, which would make the city easy to navigate were it not for the fact that the houses that line the streets all look completely the same. The prominent landmarks are the large cathedrals that dot the city as well as the large inactive volcano and big hill on either side of Antigua.

My host mother’s name is Lesbia, though she prefers to go by Chiqui. She met me at the door with her 7 year-old granddaughter, Sophie, by her side, who was jumping up and down, clapping her hands and nearly bursting with excitement. When Samuel warned my family right before leaving that I spoke no Spanish, Sophie’s face fell and she protested, “Nada?”. But it didn’t stop her from testing my basic Spanish as she clung to my side while I drank water at the kitchen table asking me my name and age in a mix of Spanish and the little English that she’s learning in school. Chiqui is a very beautiful woman in her 50’s – very clearly habituated to the presence of foreigners in her house. In fact, the next day I discovered that there’s a Canadian girl named Olivia staying at the house until tomorrow, when she’s going back home. With the lack of Spanish skills to clarify, I actually thought she was Chiqui’s daughter for a time because since the moment I met her she was moping around the house, whining and holding a compress to her mouth. It was only when I discovered that she speaks French that I was able to find out that she’s suffering extreme pain from what seems to be a case of gingivitis that has caused her whole mouth to become inflamed. She just wanders around the house crying and saying she wants to die while Chiqui patiently heats compresses for her (which I’m not sure is helping). It’s quite the interesting situation. Chiqui is a good cook and we communicate via a mix of Spanish, her broken English, and sign language. She is incredibly sensitive to my needs and very respectful of my space. She’s always smiling too. I can’t wait until I can better communicate with her.

La Union Spanish School is located about 5 blocks from my house - an easy walk. The staff members are all incredibly nice and greeted me the first day with big smiles and a willingness to help with any of my problems. They make me feel very much at home. My language teacher for this week is named Amanda. She’s a stout woman with a big smile who speaks very little English and has no problem jabbering away to me in Spanish as if I understand everything she says. We hit it off right away though, and she seemed quite pleased at my first day’s efforts and applauded my accent with relief; apparently she had a Korean student last week who had struggled quite a bit and had really required a bit of extra effort and patience on her part. I’m honestly grateful though for my background in French as I’m not sure I’d be doing as well if not for the similarities in words and grammar.

During our break, Amanda helped me find the bank and buy credit for my phone (which had been donated to me by a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer back in Togo who happened to have it and was happy to give it to me when she learned that I was anticipating going to Guatemala). Though the walk to the central park to get to these places couldn’t have taken more than 15 minutes, it nearly winded Amanda; her cheeks flushed red and she carried her notebook on her head to shield her sweating face from the sun, saying over and over again, Que calor (“What heat!”). Still, she was more than willing to pleasantly help me out with all my errands. Honestly, the temperature feels nice to me! Maybe I’ve lived in Africa too long…

On Monday afternoon I was able to meet up with my dear friend Rosangela, who used to be a coworker of mine when I worked in the Physical Therapy clinic in Salt Lake City back in 2007-2008. She’s Guatemalan and has been living in Antigua for the last 2 years so it was fun to have her show me around the places that she now knows so well. We chatted in Antigua’s central park, visited her Mom’s craft booth in the artisan market (where she so generously gave me a beautiful scarf as a welcome present), walked around to see some of the city’s ruins, and had some pie and coffee at a corner pastry shop. It’s going to be really nice to have a close friend like her here…. especially someone who knows the area and language so well.

It’s absolutely wonderful to be living a slower-pace lifestyle again. I’m loving the 8 hours of sleep I can get and the lazy mornings with all the doors of the house open, letting in the morning sunlight and breeze. It’s liberating to be free from the attachment to internet and cell phone (since I don’t have the same access to them). And I love the loose time schedules and the freedom to meander around and how people take time to greet each other on the street and catch up instead of a quick “hello-goodbye”. So many similarities to my previous life in Togo… Truly a relaxing atmosphere.