2. The time. No, not the literal time (we’re on the same time zone in Mexico City, after all.) I’m talking about all the time people have. I worked about 35-40 hours a week, and most of my friends had similar time commitments. Still, it seemed like people always had the time for things in Xela. Time to stop and chat, time to sit in the park and do nothing, time for a spontaneous dinner party. Everyone in Mexico City, myself included, seem to be really busy. Of course, I’m sure that the capital is not representative of the country as a whole, but I will still always fondly think of Guatemala as a place where people are moving slow enough just to hang out.

3. The tortillas. What, you say? Surely Mexican food is better than Guatemalan food! Okay. Yes, Mexican food is much better than Guatemalan food. Guatemalan food isn’t bad per se, it’s just nothing to write home about. But man, are the tortillas better in Guatemala! They are thick with a rich, earthy flavour. Here in Mexico they are thinner and just sort of lackluster. (I guess in Mexico they can afford to be so-so since they are filled with such amazing things.)

4. Salsa. Plain and simple. My dancing shoes seem to be taking an indefinite hiatus.

5. Politeness. Again, don’t get me wrong. People in Mexico City are certainly polite. But it’s nothing compared to the uber-politeness of Guatemalans. Kiss on the cheek, every time you see someone. “Con permiso” whenever you pass someone on the sidewalk. An extended round of “Que tenga buen dia… gracias… que le vaya bien” whenever you leave a store. Etc, etc, etc. These sort of things really grow on a person in 6 months.

6. The disorder. “How can you live in such chaotic and disorganized places?” my mother always asks. It’s simple: I am a very chaotic and disorganized person. So being somewhere crazy, where the chicken buses spew black fumes, where markets spill over onto the road, where loud merengue is blasted on store speakers, where “Guatemalan time” means showing up at least an hour late… these things make me feel at ease. They calm me. It’s nice, being able to match my inner chaos with that of the outside world.

7. Colours From Mayan women’s beautiful huipiles (woven blouses), to the peeling paint on houses and stores, to the pimped-out designs on chicken buses, Guatemala gives the eye a lot to play with.

I guess I am a bit out of my element right now, because I am too busy in my course in Mexico City to really take my usual steps towards making myself at home. I get up at 8am, get to school at 9:30, start class at 10, finish at 5, and then go home and do homework until I go to bed. This is fine, because I know this course will help me support myself abroad. But for right now, I don’t really have any time to make new friends or get to know the city, and that sort of stinks.

I went for a walk today, and I found myself missing Xela. Part of it’s just the feeling of community: really, I can’t walk down the street in Xela without running into at least a few people I know.

Mexico City is the complete opposite: total anonymity. Now, this is very refreshing in some ways, but as I don’t know anyone right now, it’s a little overwhelming.

I’m sure that once my course is over and I have the time, I will find a home for myself here or wherever I get a job in Mexico. Right now, though, I miss my friends in Xela. In particular, it’s hard not to miss the house where I lived, the aptly named Casa Loca. Usually 7-9 people of us in the house, it was at different times fun, annoying, crazy and family-like. However I felt, it was impossible to be lonely.

In with the old, out with the new. Two new roommates get baptized into the house:

Mayan women and girls in Pujujil, Solola:

Teenagers hanging out in Xela’s central park:

The view of Xela from El Baul:

The beach at Champerico:

Beautiful Lake Atitlan, sadly contaminated by cyanobacteria algae:

Xela’s cemetery, with a view of Volcano Santa Maria:

“There’s a solution to that,” my friend replied. “Only make friends with locals, not foreigners.”

That’s easier said than done.

Any person living abroad presumably wants to form and strengthen meaningful friendships with local people in their adopted country. (At least I hope: otherwise, what’s the point?)

But it’s often easy for some people to get sucked into the “expat crowd” and soon find themselves with only fellow foreigners for friends.

At the same time, should a person snobbishly shun their fellow outsiders entirely, so they can only connect with the “authentic” local culture? Imagine the potential deep friendships that might be missed doing so.

I am constantly trying to find a happy medium between these two extremes.

This relates to one of the reasons that I am leaving Quetzaltenango.

Ignore anyone that says Quetzaltenango (Xela) isn’t overrun with foreigners: it is. Mind you, it is overrun with mostly great foreigners who are passionate about Guatemala, interested in the language and culture and genuinely want to become a part of the community. But that doesn’t change one basic fact: Xela is an expat town.

In addition, Xela’s expat component is extremely transient. There are a few foreigners who stay for a couple years or more, but most stay for a few months to a year. As a result, people are coming and going all the time.

This adds to the dilemma. It’s emotionally draining to see friends come and go all the time. I’ve become close with a number of people in the last seven months here, but almost all have already gone.

So, is the only solution to make only friends with Guatemalans? Well, I don’t believe in passing up a potentially awesome friendship just because someone is also foreign.

As well, in a town like this with a constantly rotating cast of gringos, it is sometimes difficult to make friends with locals. Don’t get me wrong: I have many Guatemalan friends that I will miss and hope to often visit here in the future. It’s just that – and some people disagree with me – I sometimes get the impression that many Quetzaltecos are a bit jaded with foreigners. After all, why invest in a friendship if you will be here today, gone tomorrow?
This dilemma, I know, will follow me wherever I go and will not be cured by leaving Xela. I know that in the future I will need to continue trying to balance expat and local friendships.

But I think that a transient, expat crowd makes striking this balance more difficult, and that is one of the reasons I am moving on. I would like to live somewhere where there is a higher proportion of locals to foreigners, just so that it will be easier to establish stable bonds. And I’d like to think that in many other places, the expats that are there are staying for a lot longer. Like I hope to do.

Regardless, I will miss this city when I leave in approximately 24 hours. Quetzaltenango has brought wonderful people into my life, and holds so many memories. It has frustrated and inspired me. It has taught me a lot.

The saddest thing about leaving: I have been in Xela long enough for it to feel like home, but not long enough for it to actually be home. But it probably isn’t meant to be my home, but a stop along the way.

Me dancing bachata with my salsa buddy William.

Phil (American), Andrea (Guatemalan) and I hanging out on the night that everyone piled into my bed.

One Dutch, one American, two Canadians, two Guatemalans and one Italian over at my place for a meal.

But no chain is as quintessentially Guatemalan as Pollo Campero.

Shhhhh. Don’t tell a Guatemalan this, but Pollo Campero is basically the same thing as Kentucky Fried Chicken. Well, maybe a tiny bit more delicious, but that could be because I associate the taste with being on the road in Guatemala.

Xelawho magazine jokes that Pollo Campero’s chicken comes in two varieties: “greasy ‘n salty and greasier ‘n saltier.”

It’s true. When my brother was visiting, on his last night we ordered Pollo Campero takeout to our Guatemala City hotel.

“Caitlin, there’s oil dripping down my arm,” he said. A few minutes later, he added: “I feel greasy. I gotta go take a shower.”

Nonetheless, the stuff is as delicious as it is disgusting.

So, how is a chain clearly modeled after American fast food quintessentially Guatemalan? Besides being from Guatemala (duh), the fact of the matter is that Guatemalans are crazy about Pollo Campero. Seriously.

At work the other day, I was informed that we would be having a “special lunch” because some important people were visiting. What was for lunch? Pollo Campero. And judging by the sounds coming from our guests it was, uh, finger lickin’ good.

Pollo Campero has expanded to other countries. There’s a sizable number in the United States, partly due to the large number of Guatemalan immigrants. I’ve been told that when the first US Pollo Campero (in L.A., I believe) the lineup was blocks long, full of people wanting that familiar taste of home.

Anyways, this morning I had breakfast at Pollo Campero. This wouldn’t be my normal choice, mind you. But today, I had to get up super early to go do some blood and urine tests (just making sure my kidneys are fine before leaving for Mexico where healthcare is more expensive) and I couldn’t eat beforehand. Now, I can’t think straight in the mornings if I don’t eat right away, so when I finished the test around 8am, all I could think was “Ughnnnnn neeeeed fooooood.” Pollo Campero was the only close place open, so in I went.

(For the record, breakfast at Pollo Campero is not delicious. I would use them only for your fried chicken needs.)

I was astounded at how many people were in there! Whole families, businessmen grabbing breakfast before work, and tons of others. Apparently it’s packed at all hours of the day.

The man at the next table from me ate two breakfasts. 1) A croissant with ham and egg plus a hashbrown. 2) A tipico breakfast: eggs, beans, plantains, sausage and tortillas.

I was already astounded as his ability to inhale Pollo Campero when the waitress brought his lunch in a to-go bag. Looks like this man was going to be eating fried chicken, french fries, coleslaw and a bun for lunch.

After that, there’s always dinner too.

I always suffer from reverse culture shock. Sometimes quite badly. When I came back from three months from Burkina Faso in 2006, and back from Guatemala in 2008, I had a really hard time adjusting. Canada seemed cold (both literally and figuratively) and I had a hard time relating to my own country anymore. Each time, I became depressed for a couple months.

I was just back in Canada for a couple weeks. Not enough time to get really down, but certainly enough time to get weirded out by my own culture. The trip was sort of strange to begin with: I hadn’t been planning on going home until about 16 hours before my flight out of Guatemala City (see earlier posts about being sick.) So unlike earlier homecomings, I didn’t have much time to mentally prepare myself.

One moment I was in this crazy, chaotic and beautiful country, and the next I was in a neat, orderly winter wasteland.

Over the next few days. I noted how ill at ease I was sometimes at home.

Going to buy a tea at a cafe, I realize all I have is a $20. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “Can you make change for this?”

“Uh, of course,” the person at the counter says. Duh. I’m not it a country where giving a largish bill for a smallish purchase is practically a crime against humanity.

In Guatemala, you are supposed to put your toilet paper in the wastebasket, not the toilet. As a result, I often did the same thing in Canada, and then had to – ew – pick the piece out of the wastebasket in order to flush it.

At the grocery store, which was already a head trip with its bright lights, overpriced produce and bucketloads of identical suburbanites, I couldn’t fulfill a simple task.

“Go get some crackers,” my mother asked.

But the cracker aisle was too much to handle. 40, maybe 50 varieties of crackers. How could I possibly choose something out of such an excessive selection? I panicked, walked back in shame, and admitted to my mom she’d have to go get crackers herself.

Now that I’m back in Guatemala I am seeing the country with fresh eyes.

I was driving from Guatemala City to Xela yesterday, and I couldn’t help but thinking, over and over again: This is such a beautiful country. How did I ever take it for granted?

I got back to Xela last night, and I am leaving in a week. That gives me very little time to say hello and goodbye. I am trying to take this time remember what it is that made me fall in love with this city, even if maybe I’ve fallen a little bit out of love since then.

Maybe I am actually more of a big-city girl.

Or maybe I have a short attention span.

There are a number of possible reasons, but whatever the real one is, I’m starting to think that it might be time to move on.

Today, a friend asked me whether I prefer Guatemala or Mexico.

“Well,” I said, “I love Guatemala more, but I like Mexico more.”

You see, Guatemala is sort of like a sibling. I love it a lot. I love it very deeply. But at the same time, it sometimes annoys the hell out of me.

Mexico is likeable. It’s like an easier-going, cooler person that I’d like to get to know.

So yes, I love Guatemala but right about now I’m feel like it needs to get out of my face, at least for awhile.

I will be moving to Mexico City mid-January to take the CELTA (teaching English) certification and then I will hopefully find a decent job somewhere in the country.

Pop Stand #2: This blog.

It’s probably pretty obvious my heart isn’t in this anymore. Funny, I am actually writing a lot and jotting ideas down all the time, but my urge to blog has dwindled significantly over the last few months.

I don’t think I will abandon it entirely.

Instead, I am going to spend a bit of time reflecting upon what I want out of a website and my writing.

Maybe that’ll give this a fresh start.

However, there are still some things that confuse the hell out of me.

These aren’t bad things. They are just things that perplex me on a daily basis.

1. Where do chicken buses come from?

Okay, I guess I know where they come from. Chicken buses – those colourfully-painted buses that serve as Guatemala’s public transportation – are second-hand school buses from the United States.

What I really want to know is: how do they get here. I mean, there must be tens of thousands of these on Guatemala’s roads, but who brings them here? Does someone have the job of going up to the United States, finding a derelict school bus and then road-trippin’ it down here through Mexico? If so, how do I get that job?

2. How Guatemalans cut their cakes.

If you’ve eaten cake before, chances are you’ve noticed that most non-Guatemalan people cut it in the same way:

Pretty standard, right?

Guatemalans, on the other hand, always cut a circle in the middle of the cake and then cut slices around it:

Now, what purpose does this serve? From my experience eating cake in Guatemala, this does not aid in any way in the structural integrity of the slices. What is more, the person with the center piece will be left without the delicious, icing-covered outside. So, why?

3. Electric showers.

Right, right. These showers aren’t actually that bad. Sure, you don’t want to touch anything metal while you are in the shower (unless you know it’s safe) but these showerheads aren’t gonna kill you, despite the scary looking wiring.

In fact, it’s possible to get a good shower out of these after some practice. Some, in fact, give a delightful hot, decent-pressure showering experience. The majority aren’t great but at least get you clean.

Still, who the hell came up with these. Who said “hey, I know what goes well together – electricity and water!”???? And how did these become popular in the first place?

4. White people in advertising

In telenovelas (latin soap operas), commercials, product labels, newspaper ads and so forth, the vast majority of actors and models are pretty damn white. Most are just really light-skinned but still sort of latino-looking, but many are even blond! Whatever the case, the people you see in advertising are a far cry from the dark-skinned average Guatemalan.

It would make some sense if this only happened in international stuff – you know, TV shows or advertisements from Latin American countries where there are lighter-skinned people. But even in local ads – say, for a college or restaurant – the people in the ads are still super-white.

Why do they do this? And how come it works as an advertising technique? (For the record, the same phenomenon exists in Burkina Faso.)

5. How nobody knows who sings those songs at the nightclubs.

Seriously. There are about a dozen salsa or merengue songs that I really like that play frequently at the local clubs. I really want to know who sings them so I can download (or even buy!) them and listen on repeat until my roommates kill me.

But the same conversation has happened with a zillion people on various nights with many different songs:

Me: “Oh I love this song! Who sings it?”

Dance Partner: “Uh, I dunno…”

Me: “Goddammit!”

Now, this might not be so perplexing if it wasn’t for the fact that radios and bars basically just play the same 20 songs on repeat all the time.

Would it really be that hard to know who sings a song you hear 17 times a day?

I guess my only hope is going down to the local pirated music stand and buying a few dozen “HOT MERENGUE 2009″ or “SEXY SALSA HITS” type CDs and hoping something turns up.

Ok. So to those of you that don’t know me, these may seem like complaints.

But really, it’s these strange perplexing quirks that makes living abroad addictive, hilarious and wonderful.

I was in Mexico the last five days. It was a “stamp my passport to avoid being an illegal immigrant” trip, and ended up being extended because my traveling companion fell ill.

I didn’t bring my laptop or a camera.

It was beautiful.

My friend and I went to San Cristobal de las Casas – my third trip there. Since I had already done most of the touristy things in the city, I kept myself content by walking around and thinking, partying far too hard, and sleeping a lot.

What did I think about? Basically, one thing: would I rather, in the long run, like to live in Guatemala or in Mexico?

Because let’s be honest. I’m hooked on “being away.” Living somewhere warm, different, rawer. So I want to live outside of Canada, going home enough to see my family and catch up with friends. But I’d still like to make a “home,” somewhere that I live for at least a few years.

Spending a few days in San Cristobal, I started to wonder whether I’d be more happy “settling down” in Mexico. Probably not in San Cristobal (touristy and way too hippie for me) but in a similarly vibrant town.

Why? Ai, it’s hard to put my finger on it. A lot of it is a feeling. This is not to say that I don’t love Guatemala. I do love this country very much, and I still think it is the most beautiful place in the world. But could I make a home here?

Well, let’s see. What are the things that Mexico can offer me that Guatemala can’t, and vice versa? (Of course, due to my limited experience this might be more like what can San Cristobal offer me that Xela can’t.)

Points for Mexico

Vibrancy. Mexico is outgoing and lively. It’s open and people spend a lot of time in public. Again, this might just be a bit of a feeling… but I do feel this surging energy in Mexico while out and about in the street. Guatemala seems more conservative and family-oriented. While this can be lovely in its own way, it might not be as suited to who I am.

Security. I guess this depends a lot on location, because of course parts of the capital and many other cities in Mexico are very dangerous places. But there are, from what I’ve seen and heard, many places in Mexico that are just very, very safe when compared to Guatemala. A friend in San Cristobal asked me to come meet him when he got off work at 11:30pm a few nights ago. In Guatemala I would never think about walking alone at that time of night. In San Cristobal, the streets were still busy and well-lit. Night and day, I just feel a lot more relaxed when I am in Mexico (ok, San Cristobal but I hear that many other towns are similar) because security isn’t always on my mind.

Noctural life. I love nighttime, but I only really like to be noctural if I can feel off of other people’s energy. Otherwise I get tired and go to bed. Mexico seems to be a lot more nocturnal.

More opportunities? Sure, right now I am blissfully spending away my spendings in Guatemala. But the money is going to run out in approximately four months and then I’m fucked. There seems to be more job possibilities for me in Mexico, especially if I take the CELTA (teaching english) course.

Art! The art scene in Mexico City has got to be one of the most amazing I’ve ever seen. I went to so many wonderful and dynamic galleries back when I was there in 2008. Here there doesn’t seem to be as much of an art culture and that is something that is extremely important to me.

Points for Guatemala

Dancing. Sorry dudes, but most Mexicans can’t dance. Or at least, can’t dance salsa, which is really the only kind I care about. I may be the dorkiest, least elegant salsero out there, but I still really, really love to salsa, and I want to keep doing it as long as I can. Mexicans seem to dance cumbia, which just confuses the hell out of me.

Inspiration and Challenge. This is another one that is difficult to quantify. But so many times, this country takes my breath away, and so many other times it frustrates the hell out of me. I thrive on that kind of thing. I feel like life in Mexico would be a lot easier, and that isn’t necessarily the best thing for me.

A good development community. Ok, I don’t really know about this stuff in Mexico. But at least in Xela, there are so many long-term, dedicated people working in NGOs and support each other’s projects. It’s a networker’s dream.

And, ultimately, I have many roots here now. Small, baby roots but roots nonetheless. It was my Guatemalan roommate’s birthday tonight. We had a small party at the salsa school after class, everyone from the dance scene was there. Those people know me pretty well now, they joke around with me and make me laugh. I was happy to be sitting and having a good time with familiar faces in what is still an unfamiliar land.