Gracias por su ayuda, Marcos

A few days ago I left Antigua because it dawned on me that the city resembled a Disney World village. A clear separation existed between the many tourists and the Antigua residents. The kind of separation built up over years by both sides until a foreboding wall divides the two contently solitary sides.

I took my first round of chicken buses in order to get to Xela. On the first I sat next to an elderly woman. I started the conversation by asking her what the cost for the bus would be. She helped me out and we attempted to get to know each other regardless of the language barrier. As we arrived in Chimaltenango, she tried to tell me which bus stop I needed to get off on in order to catch the bus to Xela. Unfortunately, I could tell she was trying to communicate more information to help me out, but couldn´t for the life of me grasp what she was saying.

Then the bus stopped again and the ayudante told me this was the final stop. Shit, how do I get to Xela? He vaguely gestured in one direction and mumbled something about 4 blocks that way. I was alone in a city I didn´t know with no idea where I was or where I needed to be.

(edititors note: all stories related here are many days after they happened)

Back to Chimal, I started walking in the vague direction indicated... I felt completly out of place with my turtle shell of a bag. I knew I would have to ask for more information so I approced a man walking down the street who looked like he knew where he were going and also had no interest in me whatsoever.

With some gestures and none of the directional words like Left, Right, Blocks, that I know in spanish, this nice man spent a while trying to explain how there were two ways I could go. I just wasn't getting it and he had this look like he didn't feel comfortable leaving me to figure it out. So Marcos introduced himself and walked with me up the four blocks or so to the busy intersection where you are apparently suppose to just flag down the right bus as many buses speed by.

Marcos gave me his card in case I got lost again and needed someone to call, he waited till the right bus came by and flagged it down for me. In a moment of total vulnerability I was so greatful to have found a genuinly nice person.

The rest of this ride was about as eventful as any highspeed bus ride through the mountains can be. For the next several hours we climbed up through clouds, wipping around curves on poorly maintained roads. At one point two haggard looking American girls got on the bus on their way to Xela also. We ended up sharing a cab from the bus to a cheap hotel where we stayed for a couple days till both going seperate directions.

Now I am up at the Escuela de los Montañas, attempting to lean spanish. It is amazingly beautiful up here and because it is still the end of the rainy winter season, it has been raining everyday. If you have never slept under a huge rainstorm hitting a tin roof, let me tell you, it really really loud.

all my love,
Kristin