So I know that this is our first blog and everything and that whoever reads this probably wants to hear about how amazing everything is and how nothing bad has happened and how we’re loving every aspect of Central America, but I wanted to start off on a more honest note. Now, obviously I can’t speak for everyone, but I was straight up dreading this week. After arriving in Guatemala last Wednesday following a grueling night of travel, we were herded into two minibuses and taken to EarthLodge, a retreat in the hills overlooking Antigua. To say that EarthLodge was beautiful would be an understatement. Our cabins sat on a ridge nestled between three volcanos, high above the bustle of the city. Pictures do not do justice to the view from our dining room. For three days we ate delicious food, explored Antigua, got to know EarthLodge, and most importantly, got to know each other. For me, it was one of those places you end up calling home. So, you can imagine my horror when we were dragged away from EarthLodge on Sunday and taken to Pasac, a small, indigenous village in the SololĆ” region where we would begin our first homestays.
Everyone seemed excited to experience everything that Pasac had to offer, but even though the activities that our guides Manuel and Juan had planned sounded fun, I couldn’t help but wonder how I would survive for a week in a house with a dirt floor and no running water. And I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that my family wouldn’t speak Spanish. English seemed like a joke at this point. Not gonna lie, I was nervous.
Well, it’s the morning of our third day in Pasac, and I can’t remember why I felt that in the first place. My house doesn’t have a dirt floor (though some do), and my host father speaks not only Spanish, but English too. I even got lucky enough to have Kelley, the best gringo roomate ever, staying with me. Running water is a luxury I’ve learned to live without, but that’s only because the village is currently in the midst of a massive drainage project.
However, even if I was sleeping on a dirt floor without anyone to talk to, I would still feel the same way about Pasac as I do now, because the greatest thing about this village is the people that call it home. Every day an entourage of children follow us wherever we go, and even though they laugh at us and call us gringos, I know they’ve had as much fun playing games with us as we have with them. Our host mother, Catalina, was kind enough to let Kelley and I wear her clothes, and proudly proclaimed “gorda es guapa” when we had to cut the sleeves of one of the blouses to make it fit. We’re all discovering little things about Pasac that make us happier than a flushing toilet ever could: papas fritas at the tienda, pan con azucar, showering in the river, the way the air smells like smoke, and a million other novelties that make this village what it is. So, you can imagine my horror that, come Saturday, we have to leave again for Xela. Because as Joe said to me yesterday, “I could live here.”
-Emily
