The Descent To Take Off - Thoughts On Guatemala

My father recently visited Guatemala and so I've asked him to share some of his experiences and feelings towards the country of my service. He was a PCV in Bolivia in the 70's and hope you enjoy his entry as much as I have.

According to the Maya, God created the Cosmos consisting of three levels or realms, the Upper World, the Middle World, and the Lower World each inhabited by numerous and distinct deities. The Aurora International airport in Guatemala City made by Man also has three levels.

A five foot poster is hung on a wall at the lowest third level. At the time I took the photo a 20 something traveler was sprawled on the floor under it listening to music through his ear buds and looking at his MAC screen. He was oblivious to the image of a stepped Maya temple rising out of the Guatemalan jungle above his head. With pride and a bit of arrogance the words written in the sky above the temple proclaim "We were born in the country of the first "rascacielos" , skycrapers!"

The top, first level of the airport, a large single room with a low ceiling, is where travelers check in with their airline after disembarking from their transportation to the airport. Although I was being driven to the airport on this particular occasion, it was but a few hours after our triumphant entrance into Zone 9 from Antigua with me at the wheel. My son and I had avoided being sideswiped by overloaded buses disgorging thick black smoke as they picked up and "dropped off" passengers, not too much of a stretch actually. Nor had we run down any errant pedestrians attempting to cross 4 lanes of moving traffic. With the help of my adroit "ayudante", assistant, we had navigated directly to the Budget Rental address where the old man with the curved handled, single barrel shotgun slowly opened the iron gate to admit us and methodically recorded our license plate on a clip board. So, at the first level I realized I wasn't in the frenetic street scene of Guate where some of these modern skyscrapers live. I was, rather, at the first level of de-culturalization.

Guatemala is, or maybe used to be, I'm not really sure, rich in plant and bird species. One descends to the second level of the airport which in square feet is smaller than the first level, but much darker. On both sides of the single walkway booths filled with crafts bid for your attention. Your last chance to pick up something authentic from Guatemala. The past and present packaged for the traveler. The only wildlife is the green and red Quetzal bird printed on all the currency which at this moment the traveller may be trying to exchange for dollars.

Level two brought back the recent trip around the country Jarrett and I had taken, lots of contradictory sights and impressions. The rolling peaks of the mighty Cuchumatanes stretch across the whole horizon like some earthen tsunami about to consume the valleys below. We tried to capture the late afternoon sun shining through billowing cumulous clouds and maybe through a little risen smoke from a trash burn, all with the layered slopes behind. Not only was that a challenge photographically, but I wasn't allowed to stop the car for pictures as that might cause a multi-vehicle pile up. (Once you're on a road in Guatemala you're riding that bull for awhile.) After zigging and zagging through valleys, careening around tight turns, and guessing where detours avoid precipitous drops along landslide prone stretches of road you look but really don't see the trash and litter which line every venue in the country. The naturally symmetric and grand scale volcanoes provide endless photo opportunities.

Question. Since there's generally one road from any place to another and since this road holds cars, trucks, and busses all going at breakneck speeds around hairpin, not safety pin, curves, how are we to slow them down? The answer is not one but a zone of "tumulos" or speed bumps. Most every hamlet has a series of these things to slow down the traffic. The rush to Tumulos! The trash reappears. The view along the road at one of these momentary pauses is more likely than not of unfinished, concrete structures. Everything is in a state of incompletion, and the building material of choice is cement. Guatemala will never blow away.

After you have passed the crafts booths of the second level, decided whether you wanted to buy a shirt made in the print of a traditional "traje" or native garment, and after you have paid your 20Q exit airport tax, you're ready to pass through security and head for the third level. Here the building extends like a snake for several hundred yards. With floor to ceiling windows, all the arrival and departure gates are located here. Back to the present. What pulls together the old and new, the times of the original sky scrapers and the current day? What accounts for the fear and loathing in Guatemala City and resultant security concerns? Our trip did not answer many of these questions. It did, however, reaffirm that part of Guatemala which does bridge the times of ancient and modern skycrapers, that being the people.

One of the school principals Jay works with had mentioned several students who journey 3 or more hours once a week to attend school all day on Saturdays. Their families could not afford the continued small tuition required for admission. My wife Stephanie and I had given some money to help with the expenses. During my visit to Jay's site, the principal, these three students and the mother of two of them had prepared a picnic in my honor. After the barbeque each student, two girls and a boy, individually thanked me for my support. After some spirited "despedidas", farewells, the mother and the two students walked 3 hours back to their village.

On another occasion Jay and I journeyed to Pastores to have lunch with a husband and wife who had hosted him during his first three months of in-country training. Clearly, this couple made some extra money providing room and board, but just as clearly they enjoyed the company of these outsiders who by varying degrees had become insiders. That certainly was the case with Jay as they told story after story of his brief sojourn with them. Of course, pictures and long despedidas preceded our next short ride to Antigua.

Back on level three I saw the jet painted in blocked solid colors, blue and grey, like the steps of a temple, the great roaring bird that would soon launch me up and over the Cuchumatanes en route to Fort Lauderdale. I looked at the poster again, this time the sky above the temple caught my attention and made me think of the great blue and clouded heavens which blanketed the expanses of valley and mountains alike creating a panorama unto itself. The jungle behind the temple reminded me of the small scale flowers and trees I had seen bursting with color like the bougainvilleas of HueHue. The poster was brought to us, the air traveler, according to a seal on the lower right side by "The Government of Alvaro Colom." We had stayed at a hotel in Panajachel called "El Cacique", the Prince or petty tyrant or both? Large billboards promoting presidential candidates dot the countryside, most claiming solidarity with the people, all wearing coats and ties. Who will construct the next temples and to what deities?

They're calling my flight back to the Middle World of Florida.

Nat Carpenter 3/21/2011