My favorite güipiles (woven blouses) have birds on the the pattern.
Santiago Atitlán is my favorite style of güipil. Always stripes down the blouse and then colorful birds sewn across the neckline. But even the older style of birds on traje, on the ‘puro típico’ they say, the birds look simple and stick-figured, and I love the pattern so much.

On Saturday March 23, I was walking down the street and a man in his 50s was walking up. He said: “Excuse me, do you speak English?” And I was relieved he asked. “Yes I do.” “Oh good, do you have a minute? I am staying here tonight and will be going to the ecological park in the morning.. Do you know when it opens?” He was Australian or from New Zealand (I am not good at distinguishing those accents, and I didn’t ask).
I thought: “How… is this man here?” Most any tourist who passes through Santa Clara is on the way to the lake. Certainly no one spends the night here.

He said: Hmmmm… This guy. I told him there was a chance it wouldn’t be open on Sundays at all (we are in the campo). He acted surprised. He said he could leave as early as 5 or 6am to be able to see the birds. I said, “Okay well it certainly won’t be open that early.” And then he asked me what buses you take to get there. I walked him to the bus stop and we asked the ayudante what time the park opened, and what time the earliest bus left (7am). At 8am/8:15, the park opens. I confirmed the price for him (It’s 5Q to the park, don’t let them charge you more.”

I remember when the park “burned down” for almost a year. They stopped receiving people. What if he had come then?

He said: “you’ve gotten me everything I need to know. Thank you so much. And what is your good name?” I said: “Natalie. Yours?” And I don’t remember but he told me. We shook hands. And he said: “Are you traveling through?” and I said: “No, I live here.” And he said: “You live here?” “Yes. I am a volunteer.” “Oh very good. And where’s a place I can eat?” I pointed him to the direction of Los Olivos, the only restaurant I would recommend a passerby to eat.

It was very, well, timely. I am going through my last days in site and someone comes along who needs help getting around. If he assumed he would be able to find an English speaker in Santa Clara, frankly, he got very lucky. He would have been up a creek if he hadn’t run into me or the other two volunteers in site.

He walked away and I wanted to keep telling him things: how to get around, be safe, be prepared for anything shutting down or not working and not being able to do his beloved birdwatching. It was because he wasn’t needy that made me want to help him. But he knew what he was doing. Maybe he had gone to several developing countries to birdwatch. But I don’t think so because of his reaction to the possibility of the park being closed on Sunday. Either way, when he told me he had checked into a hotel in Santa Clara, I knew then that he was comfortable with the unknown…. A hotel in Santa Clara sounds suspect to me. And I live here.

I left for lunch with the family who named their daughter after me, at my request, with my “good name.” The older 5 kids and I colored, “Come come Natalia, come sin vergüenza” they said. I always find that one odd: “Eat without shame.” Why would I feel shame? I gave them the fairy lights from my bedroom, and I came home. I continued to pack. It was my last Saturday in site.
My good name. I’ll never forget that phrase, or meeting that birdwatcher passing through my pueblo of 2 years right before I fly away. Maybe I am the bird.