Second day in Xela

Tonight concludes my second full day in Xela, the indigenous and more commonly used name for Quetzaltenango, Guatemala. When I arrived Sunday night, I was tired from a six-hour flight followed by a four-hour long ride on an old, dinged up coach bus that had no air conditioning. Not that I was expecting such luxury, but the heat was a heavy reminder of how thirsty I had become. At the time, I couldn't pronounce agua correctly so not even the flight attendants knew what I was asking for until I resigned myself to saying "water." Then, they would go, "Ohh, water." Right. So I tried not to focus on how dry my mouth had become and let the heat lull me to sleep. When I woke up, it was night, and the winding road we were driving down into the valley had no street lights. Completely pitched in the dark, our bus sped around sharp turns rather quickly, but not as quickly as sleeper buses in China or the popular camionetas, old school buses from the States painted and driven outrageously like souped up race cars. Several camionetas, or "chicken buses," had passed us throughout the course of the ride since they are the cheapest and main way of getting from town to town.

With that said, I didn't really get to see Xela that first night. My language school director quickly ushered me to my host family's house where my host mom gave me a warm welcome and dinner consisting of the traditional huevos, frijoles, y pan. The next day, from 8am-1pm, I went to class and began my struggle to say more than just si. I think I'm learning rather quickly, but it still feels incredibly isolating not being able to hold a real conservation with anyone yet. Por suerte, my host parents know a little bit of English, so we are able to communicate with one another in 'Spanglish', but needless to say, our conversation is extremely limited.

Nevertheless, I am quite fond of what I have seen of Xela. Each block usually consists of one large building subdivided into small shops that are differentiated by their variegating, brilliant colors. Every street, all made of variously sized cobblestone, is also one way which makes walking off the fairly narrow, elevated sidewalk easier if you know which way traffic is going. The only downside I have found so far is not being able to go out for a stroll alone at night for safety reasons.

This afternoon, my school and I went to see the home stretch of Guatemala's national cycling tour (vuelta de Guatemala) which is a huge deal here. Each segment of the tour takes place in a different part of the country; this morning, the cyclists started riding from the coast and finished in Xela, an elevation gain of over 2,000 meters. Intense, to say the least. Because this competition is so popular, there were rumours of a farmers' protest that threatened to interfere with the race in order to garner publicity. Guatemala has suffered from a particularly severe drought this year, especially in other regions of the country (Xela is fortunate not to have suffered as much), and so people, mainly in rural areas, do not have enough food to eat. Apparently, government aid has not been sufficient, and so farmers want higher subsidies. Although Guatemala has a president and congress, citizens actually do not have much sway over their elected (and sometimes appointed) officials, therefore, they rely on protests and the news to express their opinions. However, no protest took place today which leaves me wondering what happened.

Ironically enough, after the race, I walked through an impressively large farmers' market brimming with fresh produce. Completely lining the streets were Mayan women sitting by their large wicker baskets which overflowed with fruits and vegetables. These, I was told, were the leftovers of produce not exported to the U.S. for whatever reasons. Kind of like locally grown coffee, the finest ground is sent to the States while Guatemalans drink commercially produced, instant coffee at home; local, high quality coffee is simply beyond the means of the people who produce it.