Here's To One Swell Gal: Maybe that's why no one likes you

As I got on the plane in Dallas and headed towards Guatemala I felt good. Scared of course, but confident and proud to be doing something I really wanted to do – and to be doing it alone.

As the plane started to descend over Guatemala I felt a pang of anxiety in my stomach. I could actually see the city – that made it real and holy shit what was I thinking traveling to this crazy place by myself what is WRONG with me?? I’m a big white girl who hardly speaks any Spanish what was I thinking?! I managed to hold it together as I got off the plane, worked my way through customs and then went to the end of the gate to look for a little sign with my name on it. I waited. And waited. And then waited still a little bit more, as my anxiety level rose higher and higher at the thought of trying to negotiate a taxi in the middle of the night in Guatemala City where you are never supposed to travel at night. Ever. Especially if you’re alone. Or a woman. Or if you’re alone. Or a woman.

I walked back towards the rickety baggage claim, feeling incredibly anxious. I started talking to a young, pretty German guy who helped me feel much more at ease about my situation:
“So what made you decide to come to Guatemala? You know it’s the most dangerous country in Central America to travel in.” He says with confidence and total disregard for the poor uni-lingual girls standing in front of him.
“Huh…really?” She says as she tries to hide the panic in her voice with a casual laugh, though the quiver in her voice surely gives her away.
“Yeah – and the people here aren’t very nice at all. They won’t pick you up if you’re trying to hitchhike. They’ll spit at you and say ‘Fucking tourist,’ unlike people in Nicaragua. They’re much nicer there, why don’t you go there?” he says without noticing that the girls’ eyes had started to glaze over as he spoke– or that her complexion became suddenly whiter as the panic started to take over her body.

It would seem obvious that that exact statement would be on the top of the Things Not To Tell A Woman Traveling By Herself In The Middle Of The Night list, but apparently he didn’t get his copy. Maybe that’s why no one likes the Germans.

To give you some more perspective, I had just come from the airport in Dallas, which was huge and bright and clean and beautiful. That was in stark contrast to the airport we landed in, which looked like a cow or perhaps even a chicken might wander through at any minute. To be fair, flying out of Guatemala was an entirely different experience: bright, modern, stupid fancy airport shops – the whole works. I still haven’t figured out if they’re different airports or just completely different terminals…or if perhaps they do that on purpose to give you a slap of culture shock right off the bat. It builds character and adds to the overall experience.

Eventually I stammered away from the pretty German boy and, though tempted to curl up in the fetal position on the belt for the baggage claim and hope that someone would load me back onto a plane headed for the US or at least Nicaragua, made my way back down to see if my ride had arrived yet. I scanned the crowd for anyone holding a sign with my name on it – nothing. I looked to my left and saw two women, each with similarly panicked looks on their faces, and asked them if they were waiting for a ride. It only took us a few seconds to figure out that we were all waiting for the same ride to go to the same bed and breakfast. I have never wanted to hug a completely stranger so badly in my life (except that one time...but that was Madonna so it doesn’t really count). We felt immediately better – knowing that at the very least we would be able to cross “Don’t travel alone” off the Never Ever Do This In Guatemala list.

Eventually our ride came and as he helped us get our bags in the car we noticed two other people in the van – a middle aged woman and her pre-teen daughter – who were also going to the same bed and breakfast. We chatted in the van (where are you from, what are you doing here) and when we got to the B&B discovered that there were already two other women there that had also just arrived that evening. We settled in, relieved, and gathered around the big dining table, getting to know each other, sharing stories and snacks and advice. At that moment I had the distinct feeling that this was going to be a great trip. I had just met seven amazing women, almost all of them traveling by themselves, all there for similar reasons as me, with just as much if not less Spanish than me, who would stick together for the next two days as we helped each other negotiate busses, taxis, ordering food and finding our language schools in the city.

Once we arrived in the city and reached our final destinations we parted ways, pretty sure we wouldn’t see each other again, but so thankful for finding each other. For whatever reason, being together had given each of us greater confidence about being alone. We had served as each other’s home base – held each other up and gave each other strength – and now were ready to go it alone. It was going to be a great trip.

Big, inactive volcano infront of little Picaya, blowing off steam.

Beets! Fresh from the ground.

This reminds me of Animal - WOMAN! WOMAN! WOMAN!

I have never seen anything like this before - Farming as an extreme sport.

Old church in Parque de Central.

Katie holding amazingly good mango icecream with sugary raspberry sauce. We were totally breaking the rules here - eating street food that contained WATER! Run away!