La Vida Idealist

There comes a time in a young traveler’s life when you land in a place and something about it gets you. You don’t just think, “This’d be a cool place to stay.” Instead, the idea of never leaving seizes your brain, and you start asking questions to locals and other extranjeros what the job scene is like, what apartments cost.

That time for me is now, and that place is Quetzaltenango, Guatemala.

Xela, as it’s commonly (and thankfully) known, is Guate’s second-biggest city, and I’ve fallen for it, hard. It sort of feels like cheating on Costa Rica, where I spent the past six months of my life, but Costa never got its hooks in me. I loved it, I’ll go back to visit, but I could have never lived there, never really considered that thought once I got over the initial Tico thrill.

Merchants sell their wares in one of Xela's vibrant markets. Photo courtesy of Nuevos Horizontes, a local women's rights group. http://bit.ly/dBUrl3

But Xela … it’s got a rich brew of restaurants and cafes, with local and international fare.  There are dozens of social-improvement organizations active in the community, meaning there’s an engaged and interested populace. It’s  a hotbed of language schools (which is why I’m here), and that means there’s a heavy gringo population. Many of these people often  get involved in the community, and most are serious enough about Spanish lessons that they won’t use English unless they can’t help it.

With all that, it maintains an “authentic” feel. I hate that word, but don’t know what else to call it. Women still walk around in traditional dress. The car-and-a-half-wide streets aren’t cobblestoned; they’re just “stoned,” collections of blocks that fiercely jostle the vehicles daring enough to cross them. The Mercado Democracia is as vibrant as any I’ve seen, with countless varieties of alien fruits, bootleg media, and cow livers within arm’s reach.

It’s also got a cool climate, is surrounded by mountains, and my host family calls me “Kenny.” What’s not to love?

When I realized the answer to that question was “nothing,” it was scary. Until now, I always thought I belonged in the States. Now, I’m not so sure. I feel like I could actually do something here, and enjoy it at the same time. That’s been a rare sensation.

So, even if I do leave Xela, I don’t think it’s going to leave me.

Kent most recently left his post as an English teacher in Puerto Jimenez, Costa Rica and is currently traveling. To see what he’s up to, check out his blog or follow him on Twitter.

Latest posts by kentgreen

• The Centries: Handing Out Awards to Central America - August 9th, 2010
• Sub-juncting Myself to a Test of Generosity - August 4th, 2010
• Nobody (At Least Not Me) Knows the Trouble Guatemala's Seen - August 2nd, 2010
• Oh No, Ojos! (or, Why Gringos Don't Make Eye Contact) - July 28th, 2010
• We Dance If We Want To (so why don't we?) - July 26th, 2010
• Getting Schooled in Spanish Schools - July 21st, 2010
• Living the High Life (and not even knowing it) - July 14th, 2010
• The Devils of Panama City - July 7th, 2010
• Paging Maintenance, We Have a Crisis in Aisle 4 - July 5th, 2010
• Bye, Bye, Bias - June 30th, 2010