We get to the lobby at 3:30am and get on the bus at 4. We arrive to the airport by 5. Apparently the driver got lost and Gladys had to tell him where to go.. It takes way too long to get our bags checked, the attendants seem very disorganized. My passport and ticket got left in the security bin before I could grab it. The safety officer laughed at me but I didn’t care.

Eventually we walk in our four groups to the terminal. When we get to the gate, we have 2.5 hours before we leave.

I drink my final caramel macchiato and pumpkin scone: my last savory Starbucks for who knows how long.

I am not nervous or excited, I think I’m just going through the motions but I’m enjoying the company. There are pleasant albeit tired faces around me and while they are practically strangers, they are nice and probably going through the motions, too. I like the handful sitting around me at the gate and we start cackling about things. I don’t hold back, the sooner they know who to call for unbridled wit the better. Cristina is laughing into her eggs in a state of delirium. 

I notice that the older folks in the group (there are 7) tend to stick together. I like talking to them but they seem to be apart. Not exclusive, just apart. I hope to get to know them all more once we aren’t swaddled in luggage and culture shock.

We get on the flight and I am next to Tom (Sawyer) who looks like Norbert Leo Butz. I ask for shoulder resting rights since I gave him the window seat in trade for the middle. At one point, he like transcended over the seats by stepping on the armrests so he wouldn’t disturb me and Tanya. Indiana Jones. With a comfortable shoulder. 

He showed me pictures of his dog, his bruise when he fell off his bike, his trips through the National Parks this Summer. Then he rode his bike from Vancouver to Nebraska! Prior to this trip. What! He lived in Turkey for a year, so naturally he speaks Turkish, and studied abroad in Nicaragua so his Spanish is advanced. Lost three cell phones there. One broke, two were stolen. He’s been to Guat before, we have that in common. I can tell this guy has stories for days and probably his own preferred style of travel and getting to know a place. He seems pretty understated though, and maybe hard to read. I’m curious to see how he will interact with Guaté during training.

The plane lands and I’m walking next to Francisco, we’re taking it in.

He says “I already like the way Guatemala smells. First observation: Smells. Good.” I smile.

I can tell I already really like him.

At the gate, we were greeted by two current volunteers holding a wide welcome sign on brown craft paper and waving peace corps signs. We smiled, we got a group pic once we all arrived. We got lots of instructions from a very intentional, poised Carolyn. I immediately wondered about this woman: Who is she, what is her story and how is she working here in Peace Corps Guatemala? We each got 4 luggage tags and instructions to put our luggage on “microbuses” and to get on a “chicken truck.” A chicken truck is a school bus, apparently.

We climb aboard and the staff start to pass back, in this order, bottles of water, bananas, and canned juices.

I’m grateful for a snack. It was a delicious banana. 

We drove for 1.5 hours. Teawan and I dove in. We already knew we were friends but the bus ride confirmed it. 

We chatted about staging, our lives back home, how we said goodbye and how difficult it was. But we also had girl talk. Straight up homegirl talk: I wonder if some of us are gay but they aren’t going to announce themselves obviously, they have to be closeted in Guat. They can come out to us, of course, but I’m sure they would be sensitive and judicious about it.. Guatemala is very conservative and conventional in that way so they just can’t be out here. Can you imagine what they are going through? 

As we talk, we are laughing, her eyes are welling up, and we are trading facts as we sip our Manzanas juice from cans on the chicken truck. All the while, Guatemala City is announcing itself in bright colors, interesting shops and buildings. It comes back to me: the simpler, colorful, vibrant country of Guatemala with mountains lining the city unexpectedly, like a child doodled them around the buildings. How are these mountains so close and so beautiful? I’m instantly comforted by the wiggly landscape, sends me to Alaska. I haven’t been to Guatemala in 10 years, but I am reminded of it as I upload the architecture and the feeling of the place.

But the thought sets in: we will never come back here. We aren’t allowed to be in Guatemala City because of crime risk. The main hub of the country is off limits. 

Our curfew is 6pm, I hear someone say, throughout our service. After the sun sets, we shouldn’t be on the streets. This will be an adjustment… My independence will be significantly annotated.

We get to the office and it is BEAUTIFUL. There’s a central garden with gardenias the size of heads, golden flowers and sweeping trees. 

We are encouraged not to take pictures for the sake of time and to move to Salon Quetzal (a classroom).

Medical is first. Fill out these bank forms. Fill out other forms (I don’t remember). 

We meet the staff. Carolyn from the airport is in charge of our training. She is very measured as she speaks, serious and slow and intentional. Not the warmest bedside manner, all business, but very informative and seems used to answering a jillion questions all day long.

We eat lunch (praise Jesus). It’s a bit warm out because the sun is beaming down. I sit with Leslie, George and Eunice.

Next we go on tour of the office, we meet the staff. Everyone speaks Spanish and English well. It’s awkward at first because some of the people look, well, so un-American that I would start talking to them in basic English. I’m still not sure who from the staff speaks English.

Carolyn gives us our marching orders:

Before we leave: chuchos are street dogs. Don’t pet them, don’t get near them.
Bombas- fireworks. Don’t panic. Cohetes: street firecrackers, also don’t panic.
Don’t walk around after 6pm.

Here is your “walk around money” for the next 6 days. It equals 30 quetzales a day, which is $4 a day. This will get you some snacks and cokes. Everything is covered by peace corps now. You will get a stipend, we will cover that soon. 

We get nametags and are instructed to wear them above the table, not on our belly buttons. We are warned of picture day the next day.

We have been sitting in a classroom and I am starting to wane. I take advantage of the coffee and even try to drink it black. Powdered cream is the pits.

The other PSTs- Peace Corps Trainees- (acronyms are running rampant) are firing off question after question. I know that we all have questions but my main question is: how do I find wifi and a pillow? I have to let my family know that I am okay. With a few more questions, I am really over it. So ready to go to sleep. We’ve been up all day and will have nine weeks to train. Let’s get this show on the road!

We walk to the hotel, we still have dinner to eat and have the option of get-to-know-you games. I just want sleep. So I go to bed. The hotel room is nice but sleep is nicer, which I got limited amounts of in fits and spurts.

I woke up in Houston, I fell asleep in Guatemala.

Day One in Guatemala, that’s a wrap. Hasta mañana.