Treasure Hunt

For the past couple of years I have had an important date on my calendar: my cousins’ b’nei mitzvah. When I made my plans for the Guatemala trip, I made sure that I would be able to travel back for this. In order to make it to Guatemala City in time for my early morning flight, I had to take an afternoon bus from Xela and stay the night in the city.

People always talk about reverse culture shock, when returning home. I think in order to understand the significance of this story you have to understand what things were like back in Guatemala. Here’s an example. In a doctor’s office waiting room, or bus station office, with 10-20 people waiting, each new person who walks in and says “good afternoon” to everyone, and people actually respond. At the bus stop in the morning, co-workers greet each other with a kiss on the cheek and a handshake, not just a brief nod followed by ignoring each other. I actually saw this in Mexico as well.

Another example. I have taken to fondly calling my time in Xela as a treasure hunt. In order to get 1 mile walking somewhere, I often have to ask 5 or 6 people. I have never encountered a rude person. People often take time to fully research my problem and find me an answer, spending minutes with me. Several people also seem to sense my confusion and actually offer help (which I sometimes refuse, but still it’s kind). It constantly amazes me how kind strangers are!

So here I was today, getting in line at security in Houston, after going through immigration and customs without delay. I had just passed the first security checkpoint, and was waiting in line to go through the scanners. I overhead a man behind me asking the security woman if she spoke Spanish. All she said to him was “no,” but somehow that “no” sounded so rude to me. Almost reflexively, I looked back saw that and he was standing there looking around for what to do, while the woman stood 3 feet away with her arms across her chest, looking away. I had some extra time before my flight, so I asked if he needed some help. The poor guy was totally confused about the airport process, and had missed his flight, and didn’t know what to do. I walked him to the counter, and then later helped him figure out where his gate was. He had the biggest smile, and seemed so appreciative (much like I am when someone spends that time helping me in Guatemala). It shocked me that several people walked by him looking obviously confused, and didn’t even ask if he was okay.

It’s certainly hard not to compare things, it must be some sort of natural thought process to us. It’s not that one is better than the other, but it is always interesting to see how people are in different places. I am grateful to be able to speak two languages, and glad that I have the courage to ask multiple people when I am lost on the US. But it certainly seems easier to be on a treasure hunt in Xela than in the US, even with limited language skills. And I still stand by the idea that going somewhere else is the best way to really what your home is really like.