I’ve done a fair amount of traveling since high school, but probably the most life-changing trip for me was the first one I ever did to Guatemala. It definitely wasn’t a country I planned on going to. I had initially wanted to go to Argentina since I was interested in its culture and knew more about it than a country like Guatemala, but in the end it was too expensive and too far away. However, I asked two people that I knew that had gone to Spanish language schools and they both suggested places in Guatemala. One was in Antigua, the most touristy and arguably most beautiful city in Guatemala, and the other was in Quetzaltenango (Xela), the second largest city in the country. I decided on the school in Xela because it looked slightly less touristy than the other one. Otherwise, I didn’t really know anything about them or anything about the country.

I chose to go for 2 months, which was a lot of time for me then but I really wanted to experience something different and be immersed in a new culture. I remember being so nervous before boarding the plane that January. Besides the little bit of research I had done, I had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that someone from the school was going to meet me at the airport and that he would guide me to Xela. What could go wrong? It felt like everything. My first image of Guatemala was from the plane. I could see endless green hills and the distinctly different tropical landscape. I also noticed some of the valleys were filled with piles of garbage. That’s different from Western Mass, I thought. Once we landed and I exited the airport, I was greeted by a crowd of people shouting and holding out papers with names on them. I managed to find my name and got into a taxi with a couple of other Americans.

I remember being fascinated by the towns we rode past during the 4-hour long bus drive to Xela from the capital. It was like a completely different world. There were settlements of concrete houses along the highway with farms and tiny convenience stores. Many of the women wore the traditional indigenous clothes, some carrying babies that were tied to their backs. My fear that someone would pickpocket me on the bus seemed silly; everyone around me was sleeping or gazing out the window. When we got to Xela, I could hardly believe that I was in a city. Almost every building was one-story and there didn’t seem to be any kind of industry or downtown. After spending the night in a hostel, I got to meet my host family the next afternoon. My “family” turned out to be an elderly woman who lived alone. Her apartment was made up of a patio, kitchen, and three or four bedrooms. Over time I got to feel more close to her and learn about her life.

Over the next couple of weeks I slowly got used to being there. I began to notice how colorful the houses were and that the city was actually beautiful with its decaying colonial architecture and bohemian cafes. But I also learned about the harder parts of living in a country like Guatemala. In my language school they made an effort to do more than just teach us Spanish; they showed documentaries, held conferences and discussions, and did field trips on the weekend. I was educated on the history of Guatemala, from its military coup in the 1950s to the civil war in the later part of the century. I learned about the challenges that indigenous Guatemalans face. Over time I could see the subtle nuances in the society, like the sense of superiority that people living in the city felt over people that lived in the countryside. I learned that, unfortunately, racism was still largely present in a country like Guatemala.

I made friends with people from different countries. Along with Americans, the school had students from Norway, Switzerland, Australia, France, and more. After classes we would go to a bar or cafe to hear music, go shopping in the outdoor markets, or on the weekends go to the hot springs. After a month I went with a couple of friends to Lake Atitlán and then to Antigua. I also spent a week at the Mountain School, which was a sister school of the one in Xela. This was a really interesting experience because the school was located in a rural village where the families weren’t even able to support hosting students. The only time I saw my “host” family was at meals. Their house had a dirt floor and the back of it was open to the air. It was very different to the apartment that I had been staying in in Xela. I learned a lot during my week at the school, but also felt a little uncomfortable being there. I don’t think the woman that gave me meals really understood why I was there and I found it hard to start conversations with her. In the end, even though it was great to travel around the country, I found myself missing Xela and the people I had gotten to know there.

Having spent a year in Spain and traveled in Europe, I still really appreciate having gone to Guatemala. I think people tend to think it’s not worth it to travel to Central America or go to countries that they see as “dangerous” or “third-world.” For me, I think it’s important that Americans go to countries like Guatemala. And not just for charity or volunteering. We can learn a lot just from experiencing the culture and way of life and maybe even making some friends.

Me at the Mountain School