I stepped out onto the patio with a toothbrush and retainers in hand, still in my pajamas at 10am, in a place I am just getting to know: a coffee farm in Huehuetenango. What did this day have in store? As I finished brushing my teeth on the patio under the sun, Doña Rosa found me and kissed me on the cheek. “Qué bueno que descansaste” she said, which was a little embarrassing because I knew she got up at 7, but there it is. Later her son greeted me, he manages the coffee farm, and explained more of the coffee process as I asked questions, both of us looking over the tan coffee beans on the patio. They sell this coffee to Australia and Canada (and sometimes to Starbucks but not as much as one would think from the signage). THIS BODEGA APPROVED BY STARBUCKS it says in two locations. Go figure. The view was dazzling once again, the sun just bounced off the green of the mountains we are absolutely tucked inside. It’s stunning and my iPhone camera doesn’t justify it. Only my eyes. I think my eyes are the best camera.

Doña Rosa called me in to the kitchen for breakfast. She had already eaten (you know, since I am dormilona) so she served me coffee and accompanied me while I ate, explaining how you make esencia de café (which I think is más o menos espresso). While I ate, she patted out the ‘shinga de café’ over a strainer. Then she showed me how you pour the hot water of the grounds, poco a poquito, until a dark stream of bitter coffee drips out of the strainer. She said: “Coffee buyers and tasters who come here taste this esencia de café but we always add sugar. I can’t drink it bitter like that!”

After a hearty breakfast of eggs, beans, toasted bread and delicious fresh cheese from Huehuetenango, I thanked her with “Muchas Gracias” and Rosa said: “Buen Provecho!” She showed me the large bag of coffee she prepared for me to take home, from her farm. She said: “I would give you more but there isn’t space in your bags! Maybe I’ll mail you more before you leave the country.” Private shipping within Guatemala is a pretty penny (the public mail service doesn’t exist) but she is generous like that. I was thrilled to have Huehue coffee! Directly from her coffee farm, where I came to visit and spend the night. Then she told me the game plan. We would shower, gussy up, and take pictures at las cuervas. I don’t know where/what that is.. Cuervas? José? and then we would meet up with the Sobrinas and GO TO MEXICO FOR LUNCH. Just that sentence itself was appealing to me: MEXICO FOR LUNCH. What is my life?

We both got ready (there was water unlike last night) and I put on a little make-up as I saw Doña Rosa applying hers. She gave me two short sleeve shirts for the heat, said I could keep them, and I presented her with a velvet jacket I brought as a little thank you gift. I was happy to see it fit her perfectly.

We left for our photo shoot with Tinkerbell Juli, the cooks daughter, to be our photographer. We walked up from the house into more forest and coffee processing facility. We began to walk through brush, myself in flats and Rosa in flip-flops. She said: “We are going to take pictures in the boulders. You just have to slide through this part without hitting your head.” Cuervas=boulders.

Oh Guatemalans and their photo shoots… This felt like an engagement shoot.. We were wedging ourselves between rocks for pictures, myself in the new blouse she just gave me, while Juli took a million pictures and tried different angles. Then we continued to another viewpoint on sharp, steep rocks. I admired Rosa’s youth and spunk; my host family is too chicken to do something this risky. They are always afraid about someone getting hurt. But we hefted ourselves up on boulders in inappropriate footwear, until Rosa went barefoot, and had Juli videotape her climbing up the rocks. Her life has been a series of unexpected boulders, I bet you that’s why she likes to climb. Juli was taking pictures with both our phones and Doña Rosa kept asking her “Did you take good pictures?” and then said: “I don’t think our photographer is that good.” Turns out that the best light required no climbing at all.

Our pictures didn’t turn out that great until my favorite one with Juli, the bougeanvileas match my shoes perfectly. Me and Tinkerbell.

Then Rosa and I got ready for our trip down the mountain, back to hot country, to meet up with the sobrinas. I was confused when Rosa’s marido (spouse) gave me palabras de despedida: “Anytime you want to come visit, you come to stay here 8 or 15 days and enjoy the farm..” I felt overwhelmed by the generosity, but I didn’t understand why he was saying goodbye. Did he know something I didn’t? Wouldn’t I see him that night? As I got ready to leave, Tinkerbell said: “y no va a traer sus cosas?” and I asked Doña Rosa: “Are we coming back?” and she explained we would be sleeping at the sobrinas’ house down the mountain, she had errands to run in town tomorrow so better to sleep in La Democracia. So Juli helped me grab all my stuff and place it in the back of the dusty truck. I met another one of Doña Rosita’s store helpers, her Sunday help, and I kissed her on the cheek. I have met so much hired help in the past 24 hours. She said: “Qué Dios le cuide en el camino, qué le vaya bien…” as we pulled out of the driveway and onto terracerría once again. Bumpy, dusty, windy road.

I was still in a bit of a morning haze, or maybe just a haze, as we began our descent down the bumpy, dusty road. Like on the way up the mountain, we picked up passengers along the way who jumped in the back and Doña Rosa charged them the commensurate distance of their ride as they got off the back and came to her truck window, handing her cash. I took a few pictures during the ride but they didn’t do them justice. I was tired, I could feel it perhaps from too much sleep or just the type of tired that comes from being in a new place as a foreigner who isn’t used to all the warmth or if she is responding with the appropriate amount. Or because I didn’t sleep much the night before I came. And, because I was, sad. Not the kind of sad that feels like it will pass, but the kind of sad that feels like depression. That is harder to reason with and harder to move, like the boulders we just climbed.

Rosa told me more of her story as we bumped along. She said: “Yes, there were so many times that I wondered in my life: Will I ever get through this? but eventually things did get better.” I took those words to heart, I hoped that is true for this meltdown-survival-swamp I am in. When we arrived to the sobrinas’ house, we walked in, greeted the family members around, and I sat on the same patio chair from the day before enduring the heat while we waited to leave. On the mountain it’s cold, but down here is another behind-the-knee-sweat story. A little boy who I didn’t recognize from the day before was dancing around in circles. He was tall, curly haired, pale. He was adorable and talked with his body, not his mouth. He was dancing, jumping, running.. I met the mom of the sobrinas, and she said “Ya tiene el cusco” referring to the little boy. I don’t know what cusco is. There are so many words in Guatemalan Spanish that renders my dictionary app useless.

After a short time, we left for Mexico. Me + three women walked down the steep driveway to the car, plus Rosa. I didn’t recognize one, probably a sister. The little boy with ‘el cusco’ came with us, too. Lily drove (like yesterday) and two sisters sat on either side of Tía Rosa in the back… Again they gave me the front seat so I could see the view. I tried to get Tía Rosa to sit there but she wouldn’t. I have NEVER seen a child in a carseat in this country and today would be no different. Little Antonio sat on his mom’s lap, who I learned was named Wendy, the third sister of the bunch.

And we were on our way to Mexico, my sadness was waylaid by heat and curiosity about how this passport situation would go. Because I am Estadounidense, I had to present my passport at a different office than the Guatemalan women (aren’t we equally un-Mexican? I guess not). And I was concerned about potentially paying a fine (remembering my last trip across this border in 2017) and showing up in the Peace Corps system somehow… I was definitely leaving the country without their knowledge but it was just for lunch. Mexico for Lunch. Tata for now, Guatemala!

After an hour and a half of driving straight down a dusty road, myself absorbing the Spanish they spoke, the word ‘pues’ without the s. They’d say “sí pue..” “y no sabes pue…” until we arrived to a restaurant called El Venado I. I heard ranchero music from outside, the accordion and boots and sombreros and heartbreak in the singers voice. The first thing I noticed was ceiling fans (may Jesus be a gust of wind). We picked a table and took a look down the menu… I just asked them what the best was, but they weren’t sure how to advise me. They probably thought I was used to all of this food, but they were wrong. And I didn’t know what to get! I decided on ensalada de camarón and hoped I would not get sick. (Guatemalans often use lime as a disinfectant…. and then you spend all night on the throne).

When we returned to the table, I saw the most thrilling thing of all (and many things about this excursion was thrilling but this was the most) two oversized baskets of nacho chips. No, there was no salsa (bummer) but there was a limited supply of beans and mayonnaise. But mostly, there were two full, big baskets of CHIPS. And that, in and of itself, was remarkable. Chip baskets are heaven and they don’t happen in Guatemala. Not like this. Not like Lunch in Mexico.

We sat under the fans and in minutes our food was arriving to the table. I realized I was the only person in our group who didn’t have eyeliner on, except the two year-old. These three sisters reminded me of the Kardashians. I simply do not fit in (but they are so nice). They said: Try this and try that and order her the salad and give her more of the bean dip… If any of them visit me in the States someday, I’d be a terrible host compared to all of this… Impressively sized fish came out on the plates and Rosa made me try hers. They still had their faces and eyeballs but the fish didn’t have any small, spiky bones inside (like they eat in Santa Clara). It’s called Mojarra. The girls ordered Micheladas and I ordered Coke. I am not drinking for the time being, trying to make sense of all this change. Coke makes almost everything better.

Little Antonio was making an art project of his face in the highchair. It reminded me how glad I am that I am not responsible for a two year-old. After we chowed and listened to the karaoke with a big sombrero under the ceiling fans, we washed our hands again and prepared to leave. I offered to pay but Rosa insisted. I have to get used to that… In the States when you host someone, you don’t insist on paying for everything. But in Guatemala it is implied. It’s a little overwhelming.

We returned to our same spots in the car and decided to go to a lake called Lago de Colón. It was beautiful, just before the sunset. On the way we drove through endless fields of corn, blowing in the wind. They asked me “You never had a Guatemalan boyfriend?” Emotional shovels and power lines. I said yes, showed them his picture. I wasn’t sure if that was the right move? Showing around a picture of your ex is a surefire sign that you are still processing the break-up. It made me happy and sad.

We quickly bought coco flavored ice cream when we parked at the lake and thank goodness it wasn’t that nasty ice cream made out of crushed ice instead of milk… that is a very sad reality in Guatemala. But this ice cream was delightful. We sat on benches by the water and enjoyed the delicious cones. Little Antonio flung his ice cream everywhere while he ate it. We took pictures by the lake (Guatemalans and photo shoots) and walked to where there was more música en vivo.

Rosa wanted me to know that she has swum in this very lake. It might sound commonplace, but most of the Guatemalans I know cannot swim. That’s another sign of her adventure and independence. The lake was beautiful. Everything in Mexico feels cleaner than Guatemala, for example, there were trash cans everywhere. There were trashcans everywhere, another miracle and so, no heaps of trash on the ground… (Am I being too hard on Guatemala? If Mexico gave me time, I would find things). I fell in love with Mexico again, but more than that I felt the wind blow through my hair with women who are generous enough to drive me to another country, without knowing me, and accept me in. “Sí pue.”

We sped across the open road back to the border at La Mesilla. As the sunset, we stopped to take pictures of it’s beauty. None of our pictures quite caught it’s beauty which is why eyes are so important, the best camera.

We drove home in the heat and stopped twice for me to get my passport stamped by Mexico and by Guatemala. The girls had a much easier time of things because they are Guatemalan (see my question earlier). I got only 90 days written on my passport for my return to Guatemala (but I will only be here 32 more days exactly). Still, seeing the number “90” on my stamp was strange. I’ve never been given a time limit before because of my VISA renewals. But things are different now, my time is almost up and so is my VISA.

This day was amazing. I was so happy.. This is my life, I have three weeks left in service, and I went to Mexico for lunch.

We got home to the sobrinas’ house and the family gathered on the patio. Family: Grandma, Grandpa, the three sisters and all their kids, Tía Rosa, the muchachas finishing their work days, taking their aprons off, and me, the gringa. They passed around the torta de elote they bought in Mexico (cornbread). I didn’t want dinner but I asked for an ice cream a la Doña Rosa (her specialty) and it was incredibly delicious and perfect for the heat. I was in awe of the richness of it. Eventually I bid everyone a good night and started a shower but couldn’t figure out the water heater. When I turned on the electric converter that made the hot water possible, it started to smoke, so I quickly called to Doña Rosa and asked what to do! She had to walk into the shower “Don’t worry, I won’t look!” and flipped the switch off. So no hot water. I just rinsed my legs and splashed water on my face and tried a few fancy exfoliating products that were sitting around. I did (6 minutes of) yoga on Colocha’s floor while Doña Rosa laid on her bed.

Eventually I went upstairs, alone, closed the door and saw a small wasp nest being built with two hornets resting on it. I moved backwards, quickly, quietly, and slid open the windows for ventilation. It was still hot. In Santa Clara I sleep under two sleeping bags and put a fleece blanket over my head.

Today was the best day. I took a risk, meeting up with (coming to visit) a barely acquaintance and it was a risk worth taking. I can’t believe we drove to Mexico for lunch. I can’t believe I woke up on a coffee farm. The visit in and of itself was invigorating, a freedom I haven’t felt in a long time (for the strict rules of Peace Corps). And the company of the kind Kardashians, and the family vibe and friendship between them, and ice cream, were all delightful.

I didn’t sleep well. They put me upstairs in the room alone, and I didn’t feel right there. It was hot. I couldn’t quiet my sadness. I thought Doña Rosa would be in the room with me but it was just me. I couldn’t find a comfortable position. Eventually sleep came and I slumbered into Monday morning. I forced myself out of bed at 9 (1 hour winning over the day before!) and I went downstairs to greet a family I am just getting to know.