Hillsboro to Guatemala

Yesterday, after being home from Hawaii for only one week, Jerry and his one-armed wife, awoke to a light Texas snow--our first of the year. Our heartybackyard daffodils stood bravely against a chilly Texas breeze. OUR first task was to get Gloria dressed and then complete our packing for Guatemala. We’ll both be glad when Gloria’s soft shoulder splint is history. It seemed like a great time to head to a warmer climate. (Guatemala stays between 60 and 80 degrees year-round.)

This morning we arose at 4:30 a.m. and drove 65 miles north through patches of heavy fog to DFW Airport to catch an 8:15 a.m. flight. Energetic porters are a prudent investment when taking an international flight. With our passports and online boarding passes in hand, a friendly porter grabbed our 4 heavy bags, filled with supplies for our daughter and her family, headed up the escalator (believe it or not) with his overloaded cart. He told us (in broken English) to take the elevator lest something might break loose and tumble down upon us. After finding him at check-in, our luggage was quickly tossed on the conveyer, and we could enjoy a welcome cup of coffee before departing.

After a leisurely breakfast in Houston and after seizing our last chance in over two weeks to read a newspaper printed in English, we were off on a smooth, sunny flight to Guatemala City. Getting through customs was an uncomplicated exercise, and we quickly found ourselves outside the airport squeezed in a sea of people speaking or yelling in Spanish. There were signs galore being held high by would-be drivers but none that said “Gloria and Jerry.” Our friendly porter, throwing caution to the wind, dared to cross the ONLY airport street with us in quick pursuit. There were all kinds of cars, pickups, shuttles, and brightly colored “chicken buses.” Many were blaring their horns. The big buses mostly seem to be old Blue Birds; for most Guatemalans, they represent the transportation of choice. With the luggage (and sometimes even chickens) on top, they aggressively push their way, at high speeds, through heavy traffic, honking as they go. Passengers sit squeezed together like sardines on backless benches. Each bus has a young lad who handles the tickets and luggage, and he invariably hangs out the open door, waving and jumping off and on as the bus stops anytime someone on the roadside hales a ride. During the inevitable delays for traffic jams or road construction, vendors quickly climb aboard any stopped bus with their wares.

Soon after thanking our porter for a job well done, Josh, Courtney and six-year old Althea arrived in a hired van. We had not seen them during the last two years. They do not own a car, and after our four-hour, bumpy trip to San Marcos on Lake Atitlan, where they reside, we applaud their decision to go “carless” as gas is $4.25 per liter. Our driver, Andres, was a master at weaving in and out of the traffic and quickly ducking into our lane when an oncoming chicken bus approached. It was great catching up on all of the news and enjoying the beautiful Guatemalan countryside once we left a rather littered Guatemala City. Upon arriving in San Marcos, all five of us had a tasty dinner in a local restaurant. The fireplace in the corner took the chill from the evening air. We were also introduced to the lovely little cottage that we rented for our entire 16-day stay.