The First Day Alone
Notes written in Guatemala
The arrival in Guatemala itself was surprisingly smooth.
On the plane, I sat next to a couple from El Salvador. We talked almost the entire flight. They were only going to Antigua for the weekend, with the goal of doing the Acatenango hike to see Volcán Fuego erupting. Something I want to do one day too. But just not yet.
They spoke about El Salvador with so much warmth. How safe it feels now. How much has changed. They told me I should visit if I can. And suddenly I found myself genuinely curious. It didn’t sound dangerous at all. It sounded alive.
When we landed in Guatemala City, we walked together to immigration. We wished each other well, then separated.
Before that, on the plane, I had another small encounter. A French guy was sitting one row behind me, watching a film on his phone without headphones. Loudly. At first, I was just annoyed. I tried to stay calm. But at some point, it was too much.
I turned around, lightly touched his knee, and asked him to please use earphones. He apologized immediately and put them on.
After landing, we started talking. I unpacked my broken French. I understand quite a lot, but I haven’t used it in a long time. He and his friend were also traveling to Antigua to do the hike. They told me they didn’t have transportation yet to get from the airport to Antigua.
I told them I had booked a driver and offered that they could join me.
We met again at baggage claim. Everything felt easier being with them. Arriving at night in a new country didn’t feel unsafe at all. We found the driver and started the journey.
Normally, the drive takes about an hour. That night, because of traffic, it took more than two. His friend sat in the front. He sat next to me. We rolled the windows down and gazed outside. The wind moved through our hair. We tried to take it all in. The new air. The unfamiliar surroundings. It was colder than I had expected.
We stopped along the way, bought chips and water, and talked in French the whole time. My French wasn’t as bad as I thought. Still, I want to improve it one day. Become really fluent. That is on my life bucket list.
They told me about renting a car and driving through Honduras, El Salvador, and Nicaragua. How safe they felt the whole time. It made me think about how biased we often are. How much we believe what we hear, what we read, and what the news tells us. Often from people who have never even been there.
The driver dropped them off first. Then me. The Airbnb host welcomed me and showed me my room. It was lovely. 20 minutes later, I was already in bed, sleeping.
Today was my first real day here. I decided to stay in an Airbnb instead of a hostel, to be more on my own. I thought that was what I wanted. And it was, at least at first.
I went to the mercado twice today. I walked a lot. Took photos. Asked around about workshops. I tried to print some of my pictures, but the quality wasn’t what I wanted. Too dark. Not quite right. I’ll keep looking. I really want to start selling my photos as postcards.
I met a few locals. We’ll see if something grows from that. I hope it does.
At the market, I met David. He’s in his forties and comes from a small village to sell his vegetables here. He asked me if I was traveling alone. I hesitated for a moment, but then I said yes. I felt like I could trust him. It’s usually not information I share quickly.
He asked if I had a boyfriend. I said no. He told me he’s already a grandfather. He got together with his wife when he was sixteen, and she was fourteen. Back then, that was normal. Today, it wouldn’t be allowed anymore. If you’re under eighteen, they separate you.
I asked him how he feels about that. He said times have changed, but that he loved it back then.
I asked him how people here at the market feel about me taking pictures. If it’s okay. He smiled and said they don’t mind at all.
So I took my camera out. We said goodbye.
“Que le vaya muy bien. Cuídese y que tenga una bonita tarde,” he said.
I love how people speak to each other here. So much kindness. So much care, even in passing. And then I walked on.
It’s much colder here than I expected. I brought too many beach clothes and not enough warm ones. Too many t-shirts, no proper warm pants. It’s just after sunset now, and I’m sitting in my private room. I wanted to be alone, but suddenly I feel lonely. Even though I spent the whole day outside. Exploring. Talking to people, mostly in Spanish, which I love.
And I think I got complimented on my Spanish at least five times that day.
It’s different, traveling somewhere where you speak the local language. Nicer, in my opinion. I love who I am when I speak Spanish. I feel more open. Kinder, more alive.
Earlier, while walking through the market, I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to take pictures of people. I didn’t want to upset anyone. But I love documenting what I see, because what I see feels like beauty. Like art. Life.
Life here is so different from mine back home. This is their reality. It always has been. And probably always will be. It’s the channel they’re on. Their movie. And I’m aware of how lucky I am that I can change the movie I’m watching. I can leave. I can choose another place.
That awareness never fully leaves me.
Sometimes I feel like an outsider here, especially in Central America. From the outside, it’s obvious that I don’t belong. I’m tall. My skin is white. My hair is chestnut brown. My clothes give me away. I feel like a lighthouse, impossible to miss.
I smile at people as I walk through the market with my camera. And to my surprise, most of them smile back. I’m not offending them. That’s a relief.
Later, I went to check out a hostel a friend recommended. From the moment I entered, it felt like stepping into another world. Another movie. All I could hear was English. Of course, it’s a hostel. I know that. Still, it felt strange.
The rooftop was beautiful. You could see the erupting volcano from there. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. Seeing volcanoes all around me.
But the vibe felt off. Too gringo for me. This is not what I was looking for. I left knowing I probably wouldn’t come back.
By late afternoon, my feet were hurting. My head too. I hadn’t drunk enough water. All I wanted was to be in bed. But I still needed to go back to the market to buy vegetables and fruit. So I forced myself to go.
It wasn’t a good idea.
Everything in the mercado suddenly felt like too much. Too much noise. Too many smells. Too many people. Too little space to breathe.
I bought what I needed as quickly as I could. I wanted to leave. And then I realized I was walking in the wrong direction.
I was lost, right in the middle of the market. It was so tight that I couldn’t even see the daylight. Just bodies. Smells. Heat. Sound. I panicked for a moment.
I stopped. Took several deep breaths. Reminded myself that I was safe. That I would find a way out.
I asked a woman which direction led outside. She pointed. I followed.
Ten minutes later, I stepped back into the sunlight.
I felt completely overstimulated. I had ignored my needs again, and now I could feel the consequences. My head hurt. My energy felt deflated. I walked home to the Airbnb, feeling defeated.
I didn’t feel like cooking. But my body needed food. So I prepared something simple. Guacamole con frijol en pan.
I wrapped my arms around myself.
“I’m sorry for not listening to you earlier,” I said quietly.
“I’m going to do better next time. I hope you can forgive me.”
At nine in the evening, I went to bed. That felt like enough for today.
I love you.
Eilin 🧚🏼♀️
And remember to be gentle with yourself.
Great story. Hope there’s more to come.