I’d forgotten how much time is spent ‘taking care of chores’ when you are on the road.  Having a home base makes it a helluva lot easier, of course, but, when you rent a house, you have to make it a ‘home’  before you can ‘base’  from it.  So we had to ‘do stuff’ to make it work for us. Chores start at home base.  And Sal started by rearranging the furniture!

Don’t ask.

But once she had worked the OCD kinks out of her system we could get on with more practical matters.  We needed some basics.  We decided to go shopping.  But, of course, shopping means money and money means ATMs and Guatemala means ATMs that don’t work.  So, one spends a while hunting ATMs down to ‘try them out’  for inventory.  Most are empty.

But we eventually found one.  So Sal got $Quatzales and off we went.  But, by now, it is hot (say, 30 degrees C) and so we shop until we are dripping and decide to take our toilet paper back home and have a cup of tea.  What a growth experience, eh?

Actually, it is not bad at all.  Mundane at times.  Boring.  Tedious to be sure.  But all around the edges of these routine chores, one is mingling with the people, seeing things Guatemalan and, in some inexplicable way (osmosis?), absorbing the ‘life’  of the place.  It is an odd way to ‘grow’ as a person – go buy toilet paper, eggs, milk and bacon.  Learn how their systems works.  Chat a little with the sales clerk.  Come away with a sense of Guatemala.

Some people do it by sitting around the pool.  All inclusively.  Whatever.  Each to their own, I guess.

Yesterday we had to meet B&K at the bus depot.  Sounds simple enough.  But it isn’t.  Seems the bus depot occupies an area of approximately four city blocks, maybe a bit larger.  But it is not 4 blocks but one huge one with a myriad of entrances (entrada) and exits (salida) along with a marketplace and an artisans museum jammed along the edges.  Mechanicos, cafes and a shipping/receiving operation join the hawkers and harassers melee and, of course, there are at least 200 buses coming and going all day long with a dozen or so on the move at any one time.  Absent any order or signage or even an identifiable front entrance, and it is like trying to find someone at the Pacific National Exhibition on a sunny August weekend.

“Hey, meet you at the PNE on Sunday at noon.  OK?”  

“Yeah!  I’ll be there.  See ya then!”  

You would have no chance at all meeting up with only those statements to go by.  And so, it seems, it is the same way at CA bus depots.  If you need to meet someone at a bus depot, you simply cannot rely on a main entrance or a waiting area.  Or even a front, back and sides.  Everything comes and goes as it sees fit.  You have to be way more specific when making a meeting place.  But we lucked out.  Sal went a’hunting through the crowd and saw K in the distance.  She shouted out.  B was off in another direction but heard his mom’s shout.  And we all eventually got together.

Adventure.  Kinda.

So you spend the day getting toilet paper and picking up money and family and, for all intents and purposes, you could be home doing the same thing only with a great deal more ease (not to mention signage).  But you are not at home and it is mostly the challenge and the madness (to us) of the setting that makes the trip really a trip.

Weird eh?