Homecoming

Well, we’re back on the road again. Guatemala this time. After a 4am Arecibo ride to LaGuardia, Emily and I drearily boarded a Spirit Air flight headed to Ft. Lauderdale. A two-hour layover was over lickety-split and we boarded round two of the terribilis Spirit Air (more on this later) for a quick jaunt across the Gulf of Mexico.

Upon arrival, all the things that made our trip around the world so indelibly impressed in our memory came rushing back. The dusty, duct-taped boarding ramps. The tattered uniforms of airline workers. The half-English bathroom signs. After departure, we headed down to baggage claim for adventure number three: the airline (graciously) announced “No mas equipaje” while we were standing there bagless. So, hola Guatemala, pero we don’t have any luggage. It was then that we knew we were truly back on the traveling wagon. (Fear not: our bags came on the next carload, about 10 agonizing minutes later).

My grandfather Jose and grandmother Sonia picked us up at the airport and we were out on the road in no time. It’s a curious thing, meeting one’s somewhat estranged relatives. On the one hand, you know these people so well; your mind has built a story all in and around the few fleeting memories you have of being with them. But, the reality is somewhat more dramatic. After a few awkward pauses, you’re essentially forming a new relationship with these people, and gone are the webs you’d woven throughout the years.

My grandfather remains a jolly, sarcastic Teddy Telly Savalas look alike, relishing in his younger-than-he-looks physique. My grandmother (for honesty’s sake, stepgrandmother) is likewise just as I remembered her: sweet, beautiful, an excellent cook, and capable of endearing folks to her in a matter of minutes.

After a quick stop off at El Palacio Real Restaurant (consumed by the table: 12 blue mini-tortillas, two sandwiches of lomita and salsa, two chicken tortillas, two plates of black beans, a few slices of queso fresco, four Gallo beers, a Michelada, and a Coca-Cola Light), we were headed back to my grandfather’s house in Antigua, a place I haven’t been in two years, but has been near and dear to my half-Guatemalan heart since the day I laid eyes on it.

These might be a soulful few days for me. I’m feeling emotional about returning to this place. We will do what we can to update you since finding good internet here is about as likely as the Guatemalan soccer team qualifying for La Copa Mundial.

Breakfast outside of Antigua with (from l to r): my dad, Emily, Sonia, my stepmother Isabel, and my grandfather.

My grandparents at a friend's house for a late lunch.

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