We were still above the clouds when I woke up, the captain had just announced that we were about to descend. Out the window, a downy bed of white stretched across the horizon. But with a blink I noticed something rearing up above the clouds—like the images shown for Jack and the Beanstalk, the stalk spearing into the atmosphere, reaching between worlds. This tower, I realized with a silent “holy crap,” was a volcano peak, crowning into the fluffy cloud line, when we were still cruising above 10,000 feet.
The plane nosed through the clouds. In between the wisps of white, was a striking view of mountains tumbling into valleys. We took a turn and I saw the full volcano, a throne, with a lake and a patchwork of green sprawling at its feet. Guatemala makes quite the first impression.
It’s been almost 10 years since I last conversed in Spanish. And after spending the last 6 months Sri Lanka, I found myself slipping into Sinhala; answering “oh” instead of “sí” when buying my bus ticket from Guatemala City to Quetzaltenango (colloquially known as Xela.) But latent memory got me through ordering a Guatemalan hot dog (chorizo, guacamole, onions, and condiments in a bun) from a street vendor and onto the 3.5 hour bus ride to Xela.
Once outside of Guatemala City, the bus wound around mountains, climbing closer and closer to the clouds. At times it seemed we were at eye-level with them; I could see a ray of afternoon sun piercing through a low cloud, lining it with silver, and spreading outward onto the valley below.
I shared M&Ms with my seat mate and warmed up my Spanish. He asked about where I come from and I attempted to tell him: Los Estados Unidos, Las Filipinas, y Sri Lanka (not so well known in Latin America, it seems.) I told him Guatemala was unchartered territory for me, in fact all of Latin America is. He welcomed me to Guatemala, noting, “¿Es bonita, no, conocer muchas lugares?” It’s beautiful, no, to know many places?
Agreed.