I’ve imagined the bell-ringing since the third week of service. An RPCV (return Peace Corps Volunteer) finished her service as we were starting ours, and she had a ceremony and she was kind enough to invite us newbies to attend after three days in the country. Eloise, a volunteer, bought flowers to throw when she rang the bell. I always thought that was such a nice touch, Eloise always seems to think of these things…

That was 2 and a half years ago now… and it was my turn. April 1. I thought about making an April Fools joke but that’s not a Guatemalan thing.

On Sunday afternoon, I woke up between a rock and a harder place called hike-a-volcano hangover, no alcohol involved. I made my way slowly, deliriously, from Antigua up to Milpas Altas with all of my things on my back on a packed camioneta, as always, going to Guaté. Once I paid the ayudante Q5 and jumped off with my backpack and costal (plastic tote bag) in tow, I walked in flip-flops, egging on the fresh blister at the base of my big toe, on the erratic sidewalk between the highway and up to the hotel. I checked in, Room #24 they said. I didn’t know there was a room 24… How many times have I stayed in this hotel? 50 nights? And never even seen the inside of Room 24. I called my Mom, uncorking my jumbled up emotions and letting them come out in whatever vegetable stir-fry they so choose. My Mom said she wishes she could give me a hug. My general exhaustion and fragility didn’t allow for me to feel any relief after such an outpouring, the first with my sister and now my Mom. I think only time and sleep were going to get me to the other side.

Around 6pm my host family arrived. They were so cute! I was so happy to see them I almost cried but I decided to keep it together. I said: “Let’s eat!” and we crossed the street to El Parador, the shopping center, and ordered Chinese food. We grabbed tortillas on the way because I knew they would be happier with tortillas. Yes, tortillas with Chinese food. Tortillas with pasta. Tortillas with fried chicken. Tortillas with breakfast. Tortillas with everything. When we ordered them from the tortilla vendors, I spoke in K’iche’ to them and my host mom stepped up to the bars of the tortillería and explained: “She speaks K’iche’ because she lived with us and that is what we speak.” So precious. When the food came out, I was worried it wouldn’t be to their liking but thankfully they ate it up. I didn’t feel like eating but I tried. When I don’t feel like eating, you know something is awry. I gave a lot of the food to them, and the rest my host mom took home explaining to the waitress: “Son para mis pollitos!” We went to La Torre and bought socks for sleep, because they didn’t bring any. We walked home and I helped them turn on the TV and we said goodnight. I went to my room and left them in theirs. “At 7:30 I’ll see you for breakfast, downstairs, in the hotel restaurant!” How would host mom do with an upright shower? I wondered. She isn’t used to them.

And I woke up in Hotel El Mirador for the last time on Monday morning. This would be my last time staying in this hotel, but the first time I’d ever stayed in this weird creepy room #24. It didn’t matter because it was almost over. All of this.

I took a shower but before I checked on my host family who was already ready to go in the morning. It made me smile that they brought their own blankets and towels to a hotel, but you can never be too prepared! After we ate breakfast, which I had to force myself to eat from the nerves and general jumbledness, I left for the office. Amanda would do me the favor of meeting them in the hotel lobby and bringing them to the office just before my bell-ringing. I had to check-out of the hotel room de una vez so I carried all of my bags, and wore my traje, with my gifts for staff and beach gear for a week of travel and my computer (the heaviest) to the office. I prepared my coffee and ran around like a chicken with my head cut-off for the next hour (the ever-relevant metaphor), getting signatures from the country director (who was not available for our interview at 9 because she was on the phone with Washington). So I continued to work on getting other signatures and sending all the proper documents to the right people. I needed immunization records for grad school STAT. Things that pile up unexpectedly.

At 10am, everything would begin. Amanda and my host family arrived at 9:40. I was putting the finishing touches on my palabras on a Peace Corps computer and tried to print them but nothing would print. Because office. I emailed it to Ryan who printed it for me thank goodness. I swore I wouldn’t leave this stuff to the last minute when I saw other volunteers do so, but I didn’t take into account how emotional this would all be, and therefore, difficult to do some things until the final moment.

I was told that staff was gathering and I was to report to the office. Although this part would be in English, I told my host family to come. I opted to do the staff presentation (optional) so I could say my peace about the expectations on volunteers, and then we would leave the conference room and go to the lobby of the Peace Corps office to ring the bell. As I began my presentation, I made it 10 seconds without crying when I recognized my host family for their presence. I said: “They tied my traje this morning y es por eso que no puedo inhalar!” through tears, but hoping to invite laughter.

I gave the presentation and got nervous. I was being very bold: “the expectations that we have for volunteers are not realistic. We are not sent to site set-up for failure, but we are also not sent to site set-up for success…” I could feel myself getting warm, saying these words (in tight traje, it’s true) in front of a room full of people some of whom would write my reference letters to future employees. But I did my job for 2+ years and I was being honest, I think that’s what a final presentation to staff is meant to be. I said: “I leave site with a wealth of experience, and I knew my site did a lot for me but I don’t know how much I did for my site.” I finished in 8 minutes, got the perfunctory claps and we walked to the lobby for the last stretch: the bell-ringing.

I was about to launch into my words when Craig came up to me and whispered: “We are going to give a space to Rocío, I’ll read a short paragraph and then the floor is yours.” OK I said back. Good thing he said so or I would have just started…

Rocío (my Project Manager AKA Boss) read a quote in English but explained it first in Spanish, explaining that she wanted to respond to the situation I experienced in site before I left (the Señorita situation). Then Craig explained the significance of bells (I’ve heard it now a million times) and JFK’s quote about why he founded Peace Corps, way back when… But after he read it, he explained that he thinks I am a ‘fuente de luz’ and that I will spark light everywhere I go. I really took those words to heart. Then he opened up the space to me.

EMOTION. All the feelings rushed to my face, and though I had a pack of tissues in hand and my words typed in front of me, it was so much. I made it another ten seconds in without crying.. and then I said what I needed to say: thanked my host family, Amanda, Abby, Eunice, Bak’tun 8, and members of staff, until I got to the part where I read my words in K’iche’ where my face crumpled up again. I thanked my host family for their constant support and asked that they never forget me, in K’iche’. And I rang the bell! And got my Peace Corps certificate/diploma/don’t know what it’s called, and my pin that is the Guatemalan flag + the US flag + the Peace Corps flag and from that moment on, I was an RPCV. A Return Peace Corps Volunteer. Para siempre.

After the ceremony we took some pictures, and my host mom and host sister continued to cry. My host mom hugged me and said: “I am sad, but I am contenta, Natalia, oye… Estoy contenta con usted. Qué Dios te acompañe” I leaned over her and my tears continued to roll down my crumpled-up eyes. I was uncomfortable by all of the emotion I was shedding in the Peace Corps office, adelante de todos, but it was what it was. Would it be so raw if I wasn’t also heartbroken over love lost? How could I ever know?

My host mom was talking to Jorge, the housing coordinator, and crying some more… I couldn’t hear what she was saying. The three of us ladies were just bags of water. BUT IF YOU HAD BEEN WITH US FOR ALL 917 of those days… maybe you would have been, too.

And we took our pictures. I finished up a few more logistics while Eunice sat with my host family in the volunteer lounge. I got my stuff together and my host family and I left for Antigua. We would eat lunch and I would send them home at the bus terminal. As we waited for the bus, Clara said that her stomach hurt from the sadness so I bought her seltzer water. The vendor asked if I needed alka seltzer but I said no because she didn’t say anything about alka seltzer, but then of course when I asked Clara, she wanted alka seltzer too so I went back and bought two. She dropped them into the fizzy water as we waited for the bus under the sunshine.

The three of us made it to Doña Luisa’s and picked a spot on the patio. My face was swollen with tears from the emotion of the day. I explained to the waitress that this was a special occasion, and she understood. I said: “We are celebrating because I just culminated two years of living with my host family.” And she said: “Oh so actually it is a sad occasion..” and she understood. My host mom said, “Yes in fact we had to buy this alka seltzer and seltzer water because we couldn’t aguantar el dolor!”

We opened the menu and Clara said: “We want the meat.” and I picked a US food style soup and salad restaurant, there… was no meat. I offered a hamburger, a chicken salad sandwich.. and eventually we settled on chili con carne and baked potatoes with cheese and tocino. I clearly didn’t pick the right restaurant. I suggested we go somewhere else but Clara said we couldn’t leave. And this resulted in me sitting and watching them eat this chili, which they’d never tasted before, looking awkward and confused but trying not to let it show. Then they asked to take the chili and potatoes to go.. 4 hours back in a bus to Santa Clara. They take their chili in a cup. Sometimes different worlds just don’t meet without awkwardness.

Afterwards we got ice cream in the park and watched the pigeons pigeon around. We walked through Nim Po’t and I showed them some of the típico I liked so much. Then we were running out of time so we had to high-tail it from one side of Antigua to the buses so I could send them back home. We said goodbye at the buses and they both started crying again. I had to be strong because I didn’t have more emotion or time and I had cried all morning during the ceremony. This change was going to take time. But meanwhile, I was so delighted that they came all the way to Milpas Altas for the ceremony and stayed the night on Sunday. It was more than I could have hoped for, except having Abuelita there with us. I had imagined this trip for months and it finally became true.

Then I had to run from the terminal to the other side of Antigua to catch the bus going back up to the Peace Corps office. I was sweaty, tired and sad by the time I got to the Country Director’s office to answer the question: “How did you feel about your service?”

Heavy sigh.

How do I feel about anything? I answered her questions and we had a good conversation for about 40 minutes. I turned in my phone chip, my badge, and I was without a phone number, my Guatemalan number gone. I left my coffee gifts with the remaining staff and sat to talk with Carolyn Beal who studied where I am going to school in a month’s time, University of Arizona. She told me about the Vietnamese restaurant where I need to eat, and how to leverage my fellowship to get the most of out of it.

I got my bags and walked out of the office at 5pm to wait for another bus to go BACK to Antigua again. I stood smushed between people, hoping my bags weren’t swiping people in the face. I am tired of being a sardine with bulky bags. I got off of the bus at la garita to Antigua and made my way to Matiox Hostel, again. There I went directly to the man who offered free massages and prepared my tip in advance. I left everything by his work station and sat in the chair. Then he told me to lay down and popped my back. Normally I would have felt too self-conscious to sit in an open area with everyone looking at me to get a free massage (sitting up in a chair) but this was a very long day, and my whole head, face and eyes hurt.

At 6:30, Amanda and I waited for the bus to Guatemala which was 45 minutes late. We were going to take an overnight bus to FLORES/TIKAL to see the ruins! We stood outside with our stuff and took turns looking over everything while one person went to the store for one snack or drink or another. When the bus finally arrived, we loaded our things on, grabbed a quick dinner in the terminal and sat behind the bus where everyone stared at us while we ate. The first time I’ve ever been able to be in the capital without the imposing rules of Peace Corps restricting me. It was strange. I wasn’t sure how safe or unsafe I was meant to feel because those were muscles I didn’t have: Guatemala City muscles. We finished our sidewalk food, found our assigned seats, 47 and 48, and leaned our seats backwards and drifted off into sleep for our overnight bus to Flores, Petén, Guatemala.

I was a free agent for the first time in Guatemala, ever. But I didn’t feel accomplished or free. I felt absolutely rung out, tired and grieving. This will take time. If the overnight volcano hike hadn’t killed me, this overnight bus wouldn’t either. I had a seat I could recline in. One day at a time.