Diesel smells like home
It just does, diesel that is. The fume belched from busses, trucks and carros, not to mention the motorcycles (though I just did), curiously settles and transports me. Occassional wiffs of diesel fumes in the States evoke passing deja vu. Though there is nothing, nothing, quite like miles of struggling, surging motorized street clogging traffic to announce ones location. I am firmly in Guatemala, a surging, struggling place in itself.
The first hint of this place, the thing that tickled my brain's difference mechanism, actually came on the plane when my row mate left his arm touching mine and expressed no discomfort from our legs touching in the narrow space. We Americans are very conscious of personal space, our boundaries are wide. Folks in the countries I've traveled, "developing" countries, "traditional" countries, are much more comfortable with physical closeness. I like it. The physical proximity feels comfortable.
Even the streets are tight and close, stores chock-a-block:
This is the street one block away from the gated community where Lilian lives. That's her in the bottom picture. Lilian picked me up at the airport in her sister's cute little Toyota. You ain't seen nothing like that little car in the states. It is perfect for these streets and likely for the country which, Lilian tells me uses oil for 80% of its energy needs. The other 20% is hydro. But, yeah, little cars rock these streets.
I'll try to fit the story of Marcelino into a future post. Already stories to tell and I'm here less than 24 hours. The rest of the day looked like eating and driving around. Driving to get the car fixed. Driving to exchange money (cambiar dinero). Driving to get home. Lots of driving. Methinks some walking, outside the city will contrast well with the driving.
But I've had a soft landing with Lilian's help. This week will be my acclimitization week before heading wholly into the remote regions of El Peten, Guatemala's drier, low-land northern area. Gonna get good and immersed in the language and culture up there. Right now, I'M goin' to sleep.
The first hint of this place, the thing that tickled my brain's difference mechanism, actually came on the plane when my row mate left his arm touching mine and expressed no discomfort from our legs touching in the narrow space. We Americans are very conscious of personal space, our boundaries are wide. Folks in the countries I've traveled, "developing" countries, "traditional" countries, are much more comfortable with physical closeness. I like it. The physical proximity feels comfortable.
Even the streets are tight and close, stores chock-a-block:
This is the street one block away from the gated community where Lilian lives. That's her in the bottom picture. Lilian picked me up at the airport in her sister's cute little Toyota. You ain't seen nothing like that little car in the states. It is perfect for these streets and likely for the country which, Lilian tells me uses oil for 80% of its energy needs. The other 20% is hydro. But, yeah, little cars rock these streets.
I'll try to fit the story of Marcelino into a future post. Already stories to tell and I'm here less than 24 hours. The rest of the day looked like eating and driving around. Driving to get the car fixed. Driving to exchange money (cambiar dinero). Driving to get home. Lots of driving. Methinks some walking, outside the city will contrast well with the driving.
But I've had a soft landing with Lilian's help. This week will be my acclimitization week before heading wholly into the remote regions of El Peten, Guatemala's drier, low-land northern area. Gonna get good and immersed in the language and culture up there. Right now, I'M goin' to sleep.
posted by Michael at 6:32 PM
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