Yel Kaye – Travel Blog, Writing and Photography

Maybe traveling to two very different regions in one summer is a bad idea. Maybe it’s a great one. (This is the second time I am doing so, first West Africa / Jordan and now West Africa / Central America.) The feeling of moving from place to very different place, being transient and virtually free, is a great feeling. But the simultaneous culture shock and reverse culture shock can be a whopper. But in any case, I don’t care too much. I am having a great summer.

It is true, though, that jumping around can leave you somewhat shellshocked. Almost a month ago now (A MONTH!!) I took the gruesome 24 bus ride between Ouagadougou and the Atlantic coast for the fourth time. This time, the ride to Accra was pleasant and easy, but when I arrived at Big Milly’s in Kokrobite at about 7AM I felt completely out of it. Compared to hot, dusty, chaotic, conservative, uber poor Burkina the Ghanaian coast seemed cold, pristine, tranquil, prosperous and full of scantily clad foreigners. Serious. If there’s one thing that can be said about white people in Africa, is that generally they have a disdain for other white people in Africa. No exception in my case. The massive groups of 19-year-old volunteers practically made me nauseous, and (besides a pleasant chat with an agnostic preacher) I spent most of Saturday during the day reading my book and avoiding contact with others. At night, I befriended some German girls, talked for a few hours with a charming young Ghanaian man, and finally started enjoying myself while I danced to a Lucky Dube cover band in the rain. The next day, once the volunteers evaporated, I was finally able to get to know the other loners such as myself. I spent my last night at Alison, Sophie and Hannah’s place in Accra. Although only Hannah was actually still around in Accra, it was still nice spending my last night in Africa in the same place I started.

Anyways, less than a week later (with a brief visit with my mom in NYC) I found myself in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala – aka Xela. It is beautiful here. In fact, Guatemala is without a doubt the most beautiful place I have ever been, and that is saying a lot. Xela is fairly high in the mountains, and has narrow, cobblestone streets. The view from pretty much anywhere is impressive. It is strange here though. I have a fascination with expat cultures everywhere, and this place is no exception. I made the following joke yesterday about central Xela – if you made the Gladstone Hotel (in West Queen West Toronto) a village, except with more outdoor active gear, and mixed in 50% cute little Mayan people, you would have Quetzaltenango. Other people don’t really seem to notice or think that there are so many foreigners here, so maybe it is just me coming from Ouagadougou, where there are hardly any. But I still think I am right. There are hip little cafes / bars all over the place though, and there are hundreds of 20-something just hanging about. 20-something neverneverland – that’s what you might want to call the whole country. But despite this I suppose that Xela still has predominantly Guatemalan flavour. It’s not like in Ouaga, where you go out to an expat bar and see only foreigners. In Guatemala there is enough wealth in some classes that the locals join in the fun.

Anyways, to be honest my first week here I was pretty miserable. I thought most of the other travelers I met were jerks, and I couldn’t quite adjust to not being in Africa AND being somewhere new at the same time. After about a week was over, my bitchiness evaporated, and I got into the swing of things. I take five hours of intensive one-on-one Spanish lessons every weekday, and take salsa lessons almost every day as well. There is usually almost always something to do, and when there’s not I am exhausted. The climate is pleasant, and it is easier to relate to local young people than it was in Ouagadougou. Some foreigners never leave, and I can see what sucks them in. It is nice here and I guess you could say the living is easy (at least for those of us who have money.) There is a steady flow of interesting people passing through, it is cheap as hell (although you can find yourself spending way too much money) and there is a great cultural scene and nightlife. I have already started having silly daydreams of coming back to work for a year, or coming here next summer to do my thesis. The Guatemala addiction has already set in.

I still miss Ouaga though – I guess it’s hard to ever love a place as much as the first place you fall in love with, even if it’s a frustrated love-hate kind of love.

Caitlin

PS: The title means “my name is not gringa” in Moore.