The morning air was cool and fresh, the sun beaming down promising a warm day in Guatemala. Me and a few of my Habitat for Humanity teammates sat around a large table make of thick, dark wood, with intricately carved legs.
We were in a cheerful courtyard, filled with fuscia and white flowers and several small trickling water fountains. We sipped on deliciously rich Guatemalan coffee, joking, laughing and sharing stories from home. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, it peered underneath the shady overhang and warmed my shoulders. An older woman, wearing traditional Guatemalan clothes her dark brown hair streaked with gray pulled back into a tight bun, came outside and took our orders. The decision was unanimous; everyone at the table ordered the traditional Guatemalan desayuno including platanos fritos (fried plantains), corn tortillas and black beans. My stomach grumbled ominously as I thought of the steamy bananas and hot tortillas. We chatted for a while longer, playfully making fun of one of one of our friend’s raging red farmer’s tan and joking about the guys all of the girls had danced with at a club the night before. My stomach roared loudly, commanding the attention and teasing of everyone at the table. I turned in my seat, craning my neck to see if there was any sign of our food arriving. There wasn’t. I sipped on some more coffee, waiting with baited breath for the woman to cross the threshold
Five minutes later she and her shy younger daughter stepped through the door, each holding a tray full of steaming food. My mouth watered as the plates were set on the table and the heavenly aroma of the savory beans and the sweet plantains filled my nostrils. In keeping with my extreme dislike for mixing foods, I decided to go for the beans first. I scooped up a giant forkful and shoved it in my mouth. The beans were hot, rich and satisfyingly salty. The outside was still slightly hard, but they squished delightfully in my mouth and slid gratefully down my throat. After demolishing the beans, I went for the tortillas. They were home made and hot, straight off of the stove. I ate each one slowly, nibbling patterns into the perfectly round tortillas, savoring the strong corn taste and starchy texture. After finishing the last tortilla (it was nibbled into a flower shape) I turned my plate so the plantains were right in front of me. I had saved the best for last. The small bananas had been sliced into strips and the individual fried pieces were covered in a delicious, gooey brown sauce. I cut one of the pieces in half and stabbed it with the fork. As I lifted it off of the plate, the thick brown sugar sauce drizzled off of it in tantalizing drops. I put the piece in my mouth and was immediately immersed in a wave of delight. The brown sugar sauce was thick and sweet; as I bit down into the banana my teeth crunched through the fried outer layer and then squished through the warm, silky banana. I took another bite, and then another, shocked that it seemed to get better and better with each additional forkful. I arrived at the last bite, and starred at it with sad puppy eyes, disappointed it was the last bite. Sighing, I scooped it into my mouth for one last bite of exotic, heavenly delight. After we had all finished our meals, we sat in a dreamy, partial silence, immersed in a post feast haze. We sat for a while soaking up the sun, content with our full stomachs, and then got up and left the courtyard, ready to explore more of the city of Xela.
Wandering the streets with the people who had, over the past 2 weeks, become some of my best friends, I felt radiantly calm and at home. That is one of the most enlightening discoveries I have made in my adventures so far, how travelling with other people, even if you start out as complete strangers, knits you tightly together in a colorful web of shared laughs, fears and adventures. In a foreign place, the people you bond with become your family. Like a delicious meal that fills you with peace and happiness and rejuvenates you, they give you the warm bliss of a home, making you feel comfortable, loved, confident and safe, even in the face of the unfamiliar.
