Living Guate style

So there I stand again, with the same confused look on my face, somewhere between boredom and acceptance, as my new host explains something to me in Spanish. It’s only a 5’ by 4’ rectangle after all – what can possibly warrant us standing in the doorway for more than a moment. But I oblige to the customary questions and looking at the bed and room before agreeing to accept my new home. You see, this won’t just be another lodging for me, for there has been so very many over the last 5 months, this will be a home for me – for a few weeks at least. Mine and our first time staying with a local family, in a very rural and tranquil village on the shores of Lake Atitlan, Guatemala.



Melissa with her 2 helpers



Repairing one victim of the incident

After my hospital escapades and a quiet few days recovering in a hostel, we agreed that I indeed fell in quite a fortunate part of the country, on our descent to the lakeside village of San Marcos - a beautiful, sunny, quiet and traditional village that sits on the shores of Central America’s deepest and arguably most beautiful lake, flanked by 3 volcanoes and ridges of mountains stretching into the distance. So I guess if I had to choose where to dismount my bike so gracefully and thus be compounded to rest, this wasn’t a bad place to do it.

View of the lake from the hillside

So for half the price of all other accommodations in town, our new host Patty, along with her 2 excited children, friendly husband, Mayan sauna in the yard, assortment of chickens and one hungry dog, was happy for us to rent one of her spare rooms. Mud brick homes, dirt laneways and the clap of tortillas being made by smiling local women characterized this part of town. Up on a hill in a neighborhood and a short stroll to the “centre of town”, we were excited to immerse ourselves in Guatemalan culture for a few weeks while we took some Spanish lessons and taught some local kids English (or at least tried to). Having access to our own kitchen was going to be a treat right from the outset as we decreased our dependence on restaurants which varied between too expensive and delicious or cheap and rice, eggs and beans. Time to hit the fresh veg and fruit market and tune up my cooking skills again!

View from the dock before boarding our daily boat

Our adopted helper

Travelling and living in Guatemala…..a 2 word synopsis.

Having now spent a total of 2 months travelling, cycling and now living in beautiful and crazy Guatemala, I will try and surmise the experience.

2 words – Noise and Time……this is how I describe Guatemalan culture as succinctly as possible.

Noise…..where to start, from the buzz of tuk tuk taxis, the roar of diesel powered chicken buses ascending high mountain passes, the incessant hooting of horns for unknown purposes to un comprehensibly loud music blaring from any device unfortunate enough to plug into a sound system, the noise doesn’t stop, EVER.

Now having the pleasure of living with a family, we also have the joy of waking up to a variety of charming alarms. The cackle of roosters at insane times (I counted 12 crows per minute this morning as I lay awake), the chorus of local dogs singing to each other all night, the radio wars of Christmas/rave/church/ballad music at all hours of the day and my personal favourite – fire crackers – any time, any place, there is always fire crackers….this is all before the alarm goes off to get us up and ready for our Spanish classes. Now I am not complaining, for every experience is just that, an experience, I just cannot get in my head the complexity, variety and diversity of all the sounds that abuse my sensory system daily.

It confuses me to say the least, people’s reactions to all of this, but more of that shortly.

This brings me to time…..a simple word, so eloquently used to convey a sense of need, urgency and significance to all of life’s details, both small and large. What time is lunch, what time is it, what time do you finish, what time will you be homes……no-one can argue that time plays an important role in their daily lives. Time is, well, just not important here. At all. Ever. It’s crazy really, the lack of time being a bounding constraint on social and business matters. If people are late, they are late. If the bus doesn’t run on time, it doesn’t run on time. No problem, no concern. If the store is closed, then so be it. No big deal. The striking variance between how our North American culture values time and how it is of such utter insignificance here borders on comical. But guess what – everything still works – late, but it works. There is no rush, no hustle and bustle, no urgent running for this and that and shockingly, everyone still smiles. Who would have guessed that….

However, as charming and alluring the complete separation from the importance of time can be, it can also be, let’s face it, bloody infuriating at times. “The bus leaves a few times in the afternoon and a few times in the morning” is not an uncommon response when asking how to get somewhere. If you are in a rush to get around here, or get anything done for that matter, than forget it, you will go crazy – and sometimes I have. But here’s a trick – don’t be in a rush. Life goes smoother that way. The view on time has a somewhat calming effect (most of the time) and a certain way of slowing down one’s thinking and living, creating a present awareness on all things beautiful and interesting as each day passes by. I could get used to it really.

However, as alluded to previously, what really strikes me are people’s reactions to dealing with both noise and time. It really does confuse me to no end. The two are never better illustrated to me than being on the great people and cultural exhibition that is the public bus. You can be stopped dead in a traffic jam, cars tooting all around, people selling who knows what as they stride down the proverbial market that is the bus’ center aisle, church music blaring into everyone’s ears and a preacher at the front selling who knows what faith to whoever would listen and you know what people’s reaction is? NOTHING. Nada, naught. Everyone just sits and waits, patiently or blindly, like there is no hurry in the world to get anywhere and it’s as if everyone is fitted with internal ear plugs to the sensory overload around them. More than once I have turned to Melissa and questioned, with a typical exasperated and confused tone, why no-one says or does anything. Nothing – everyone just sits there and smiles.

My favourite example was when Quiche and I sat patiently in Honduras as the bus driver pulled over and went into the front yard of his house to play with his kids and get a drink from his smiling wife. Charming I thought, to see the kids during a work day, but wasn’t he forgetting something? The bus full of passengers who had paid to get to where they presumably needed to be? We waited and waited for someone to hang out the window and question his motives but nothing – the bus load just sat there and waited for him to return, like nothing was happening. Now let me ask you this, if you were sitting on a  bus at home and this happened, how long before someone would complain?  How long til someone’s shouts how important it is that he immediately gets to his meeting, or appointment, date or whatever? Is it that in our over padded and coddled environment that we are more important and thus our destination requires a more prompt delivery service, or should we just chill out like the folks in this part of the world? I am sure everyone had to get somewhere that day, it’s just the time they arrived was of less significance. And they were better off for that.

Or, how about a few nights ago, when the local basketball court decided to blast power schmaltz rock through the entire village (we live at least 500m from the court) to the wee hours in the morning in celebration of a win at an inconceivable volume – something that represented the feeling of a marching band playing in our bedroom. The raw sounds interspersed only by the shrieks of roosters and crack of fireworks as we rocked to sleep. I wonder what the neighbours reaction would be at mine or your home to such a display of exuberance. I have had police show up to parties that emitted less auditory assault. Do our precious bodies require more sleep, are the locals used to it or does everyone just accept it as part of life and hence doesn’t let it bother them…..I am still wondering.

One thing is for sure, people are close here, they live close together, work close together and play close together. They walk through each others homes, squash 15 deep into pickup trucks and 3 wide on bus seats without the flutter of an eyelid. And they chat, laugh and smile as they do it. Maybe this closeness brings an acceptance of the noise and tolerance of the concept of time, creating a more laid back culture. Or maybe everyone resents it all, wishes for a “better” life and is brooding with rage underneath their smiling faces……somehow I think it’s the former.

Now excuse me while I reach for my earplugs and set the alarm for – oh, let’s see – the morning sometime….

Launching into the lake