6/27/07
I couldn’t get out of the driveway fast enough. It wasn’t that I wanted to get rid everyone; it was more a matter of wanting to begin the journey laid before us. Fortunately, Joel and Grace were in the able and loving care of 3 grandparents. They were sure to have a great time in our absence. Jen and I had grown tired of planning and preparing, and wanted to get to the “doing”. Though excited, we were both filled with some anxiety. I myself was concerned about the logistics of parking, checking in behemoth boxes of donations, and general navigation stuff. As we pulled out of the driveway, a small sense of relief began to settle in…Ah, we were taking the first steps in a long awaited journey to Guatemala.
The drive to the Detroit Metro Airport began as a non-event. Minimal traffic and an absence of construction was just what a slightly-wound father of nearly three really needed. As we passed the Lansing area, the sky began to darken, and then it opened wide dumping its rain on us by the bucket. This slowed our progress and raised my blood pressure a notch or two. International travel was something new, and I didn’t want to be in a rush this first time through. The powerful rains continued off and on until we were just outside the airport. The Detroit Metro Airport is a bit of a maze of loops, but we managed to find where Continental’s terminal was. Then came the first sign of blessing to our trip. At the entrance to the ticket counters was a skycap nearly bored from lack of business. Whats more, the curb in front of him was the only clear parking area to be found for a 300 meter stretch. I quickly pulled in, and in minutes the gentleman had taken all four of our giant boxes/bags of donations (a few were well over the allowed weight limits), tagged them for our final destination, hauled them away, and shared with us valuable parking advice and directions. I got back in the car and thanked God out loud for taking care of my first points of concern.
After parking at the “Big Blue Deck” and catching the shuttle back to the terminal, we immediately headed for the security check point. I felt sorry for all those who had to witness the greenhorn attempt we put fourth to get all of the necessary items off, out, and into the tray…and oh yeah, we needed to have boarding passes in hand! What rookies we must have looked like. Fortunately, we found ourselves standing next to a nice local man who could read the “clueless” stamps on our foreheads, and provided advice and a reassurance that he would wait for us on the other side to help us find our concourse. Again, a blessing from above. After finding our general concourse and our specific gate, Jen and I sat for some lunch and listened to a class-4 thunderstorm slam through the airstrip. Fortunately, it did not impact our departure too much, and really didn’t bite into our lay-over in Houston at all.
In Houston, we began looking for a place to relax and grab a bite. Jen spotted a burrito place…mmmmm, it hit the spot! While sitting at a little bar munching down our last American (safe) meal, we spotted some older people from Flint with t-shirts emblazed with the silhouette of Guatemala. They were on their way home from a mission trip there. They were full of enthusiasm and encouragement for what we were about to do. The flight from Houston to Guatemala City was packed. Most of the passengers were obviously returning home. The other passenger in our row of three was on his way to visit relatives there. Though he said that he lived in New Jersey, his broken English told us that he would certainly look more like a “local” in our final destination than on the east coast.
Our arrival to Guatemala City was strange. At 9 pm it was already pitch dark. All we could see while flying in was a tremendous number of sodium lights and the pinkish-orange light that they give off. We were both struck both how big the city appeared…and industrialized/modern the lighting indicated it to be. Once off the plane, we found the airport to be barren. Not a vendor, ticket agent, waiting passenger…nothing. As we began walking down the hall of gates, it was obvious that all of this was brand new, in fact still under construction…many maintenance and custodial staff were still cleaning, sweeping, installing. Much of the walls were still unfinished drywall, and much of the space was cordoned off with yellow caution tape. As we were funneled toward the baggage carousels, I found myself almost in disbelief when all four of our packages of donations rolled by. Off to customs we went.
Too easy! Immigration consisted of a man in a little booth that ran our passports through a scanner, stamped them, and said “Buenos Noches”. Next was customs, but where were they? There was an unmarked man collecting our already completed forms, and that formality was complete. Now, off to find this guy named Abel.
As we exited the secure portion of the arrivals terminal, we were overwhelmed to see a giant mob of locals waiting to welcome home friends and family. Off in the distance I see a man in a blue jacket holding a small paddle with “All God’s Children” on it. Though that phrase refers to everyone, I knew that was our guy, or was he? We swam through the crowd to him and I said “You must be Abel!”. He shook off my statement and motioned us out into the parking ramp adjacent to all of the commotion. If he wasn’t Abel, then what….? Soon a smiling, jovial man in a leather jacket appears with hand extended. THIS was Abel! He had been collecting another family from North Dakota and had recruited a skycap to reel us in.
How warm and friendly this man was. AGCI has picked an excellent point person, making a great first impression and calming our fears with his happy-go-lucky attitude and confident advice. He buzzed through the dark city with bumpy streets and made light conversation with us, with the help of the rear-view mirror. I remember being jostled around as we hugged our backpacks and craned our necks, wide-eyed, trying to take in what we could of this foreign land. As we pulled in to the Marriot, I remember noting the stately appearance of the structure and then being distracted by the nearby police patrolman toting a shotgun (rather flagrantly). After checking in, we quickly dumped our stuff in our sixth floor room, took in the cityscape from our balcony, then walked back down stairs to scope out the amenities and buy some bottled water. We were nervous about the water and the food…we would later relax about that. The pool looked great, the restaurants appeared safe (actually pretty high class), and the bottled water was only 2 bucks.
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