British writer and poet Samuel Johnson once wrote, "The use of travelling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are." No words could resonate more true with me when I look back at my first 24 hours in Guatemala. In a place hardly known by most Americans for anything but but small immigrants, coffee, and dense rainforrests, nothing here is quite as you had expected.
Getting here was annoying, but not particularly difficult. It took 3 planes and about 10 hours of total travel time. Thanks to frequent flyer miles I flew first class, which made the experience that much better. Descending into Guatemala City, you are immediately struck by how green it is. Once we broke through the low-lying clouds and rain, you see lush pockets of dense trees, Lago Amatitlan, a giant volcano (the name slips me at the moment), and the white and red rooftops of a massive urban sprawl.
The airport was unbareably humid, but customs and immigration took about 5 minutes at the most. By the time you hit the baggage pick-up, you know you've reached the third world. Hundreds of locals and a few gringo missionaries impatiently clustered together to wait for their bags on the rotating conveyer belt. The problem was that the conveyer belt wasn´t moving, in fact, it was never supposed to. Minute-by-minute the baggage handlers grabbed bags and threw them on (sort of) the belt. The gringos looked nervous, the Guatemalans determined, and we all hustled in an almost animalistic way to grab our stuff before it ended up on the floor or the bottom of the luggage pile. I was lucky, and after only 10 minutes, I grabbed my stuff and met up with Alejandro, one of my hosts.
As soon as we climbed into the silver Range Rover the rain came down heavily. ¨Here dude.." Alejandro said as we rolled up the windows and locked the doors, "...have a Gallo. It's our national beer." Beer in hand, in torrential rain, we spead off for some food. He took me to an outdoor bar with a thatched straw roof for some Ceviche and more Gallos. This part of downtown Guatemala City looks a lot like Los Angeles. There are political billboards and advertisements everywhere. American commercialism is omnipresent with every glance out of the window. MacDonald's, Burger King, Meineke, Shell Gas, Blockbuster, and even Taco Bell line the avenues of the commercial center of downtown. That's right, Taco Bell in Guatemala.
With a decent buzz and a stomach full of cold fish soup with cilantro, we headed through the city towards the Alvarado's house for the legal portion of Cesar's wedding. Now, let me back up a little to explain who the Alvarados are. Cepi is a friend who I met in Boston as a regular customer at the bar I worked at, the Linwood. Alejandro is his older brother, who I also met in Boston. Both were there for school. Cesar is the middle child who I didn't meet until arriving here. His official wedding was on Saturday night at his mother's house, where I'm staying, and his religious/celebratory wedding is in a week or so in a church outside of the city. Now back to the beer and the car ride.
Ok, so there's no easy way to segway into the next part of the evening, but I'll do my best, so bare with me. It's raining like crazy, we're doing about 60mph down a small avenue lined with vendors huddling under balconies to stay dry. The windows and doors are firmly locked, and I'm told not to flash my camera. I do anyway. As we approach the Plaza Mayor (main square), Cepi announces with an almost patriotic pride, "This is our version of Central Park dude. This is the capital square, the political center of the country." "Hey look", he said, "There must be a parade or something. Check out the floats." No sooner did these words come out of his mouth did we see the most unexpected site I could have ever immagined. The parade was to celebrate gay rights and freedoms for transvestites. The floats were driving slowly, packed with tall, dark, thong-clad transvestites holding signs and dancing to blaring latin club music. The expressions from my guides were priceless. The words coming out of their mouths began with "Oh no, no, nooooo" and followed by what I assume to be the Guatemalan equivalent of "faggot". Now, you have to understand that as much as I don't condone homophobia or bigotry, we are in a culture where being gay can be reason enough to kill you. I think the guys were ashamed more than anything. I explained that this is normal to a liberal east coaster like me, the mood lightened, and funny enough, they said nothing more about it after a block or so. We had business to take care of. It's time for the wedding.
The wedding was subtle and beautiful. As I had expected, I was greeted with open arms immediately, and welcomed into the Alvarado home. The word "GRINGO" was thrown around quite a bit, but not in a bad way, that's just what we're called here. And trust me my fellow Americans, in Guatemala we're a rare find. Cesar and his fiance appeared at the dinner table in front of a lawyer, to make it legal under Guatemalan law. With a room full of well-dressed family and friends, one Gringo, and a small Guatemalan flag, they took their legal vows. After that, the night for me went like this: two more Gallos, some damn good chicken, talk of going to strip clubs, more chicken, broken spanish, more talk of strip clubs, sleep. After being up for 26 hours and hopping from plane to plane in such lovely cities as Cleveland and Houston, I was out like a light.
After a good 10 hour sleep and an early rise, Cepi and I were off to the Davis Cup (Tennis). His job was to take pictures for a local tennis magazine, and mine was to stand around and look awkward as the token gringo. The locals already had a name for me too, "Casperito", or as we would know it, "Casper the friendly ghost". I could tell you more about the Davis Cup, but tennis is boring enough to watch, let alone write about. And right now backpackers, I'm exhausted. I will leave you with this, however. When you're the only gringo around, people love to talk to you, especially women. In my case, her name was Gwendolyn, and she's a waitress at Hooters. But, that'll have to wait 'til tomorrow.
Stay cool muchachos y muchachas, Casperito will explain everything tomorrow.
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