Bob Barker, come on down!

When I was in Guatemala, I saw more street dogs than you can shake a rawhide chew stick at. It is possible that some were “pets,” but some people let their pets roam free, so it was hard to distinguish the street dog from the family pet. I know many people would say there are more pressing issues to tackle in Latin America. But I think Bob Barker could do a world of good in the “get your pets spayed and neutered” campaign down there. I’m just saying there were lots of stray dogs. And they needed some love. And some soap and water.

Here is a photo collection I simply call “Sleepy Dogs in Guatemala.” (And I am sorry, but I cannot format a photo layout worth dog doo on Blogger. They sure don't make it simple.)

 I just wanted to take them all home! 

Have any of you read or heard of the children’s book called Walter the Farting Dog? Well, if you haven’t, it is quite amusing. The artwork is cool, too. And I swear the dog in the photo below is Walter. Looks just like him. Although this dog is female. And quite possibly pregnant. She is a pathetic looking thing, and I think she knew it because she was avoiding my camera like a flea bath. She kept trotting away from me and was all, “I don’t think so, lady. No photos today.” She needed some serious TLC, poor thing.

 This is a family dog that lived in my host house. Her name is La Baby. Cute as she is, she would not let me come near her. Which is weird, because I am a total animal person and I have always been sure that dogs could tell. Here in Austin, dogs follow me all the time. They get out of their fenced-in yards, see me taking a walk and just tag along (until I help them get home ... those stories are too numerous to recount here). But not La Baby. She was having none of that. I stayed in that house for three months and never once did she let me pet her. What is up with that?!   

I will leave you with the famous, oft-repeated quote from the host with the most: 

"Bob Barker reminding you to help control the pet population. Have your pet spayed or neutered. Bye-bye." 

And if you can't let sleeping dogs lie, adopt one! If adopting a dog in a foreign country is not in your travel plans, there are many dogs in shelters at home that would love to be yours. 

Time flies ... when you’re in Latin America.

When I was about to take my first, long-term trip to Latin America, someone who had been there many, many times advised that I just get rid of my watch. I always wore a watch – and this was before cell phones told us what time it was – so I thought about it, but kept my watch. But on the flight from the U.S. to Panamá, guess what! My watch stopped. I saw it as a sign: my friend was right. I was going to Latin America, where it was more laid back and relaxed, where time was a suggestion, not a demand. Watches?! I didn’t need no stinkin’ watches!

I know I could’ve found a watch battery, but I decided not to, since this was so obviously a sign for me to get into the Latin American groove. The sense of time in Latin America is much more “loose” than it is in the United States. My gosh, people get uptight about punctuality here. If you are to meet someone at 9:00, you sure better be there at 9:00. And I was once working for a job training program where an instructor told the class, “If you’re on time, you’re late.” This is not true in Latin America, where if you’re on time, you are often early. Sometimes very early. 

This is true for parties, too, so be very aware. If you are lucky enough to be invited to a local party and they tell you it starts at 8:00, that really means that is the time they are going to start getting ready. If you actually show up at that time, the hostess will be in the shower, the host will be out getting the beer, and you will be sitting there on the couch, looking like an idiot who has nothing better to do than sit on a couch. The party won’t really get started until about 10:00, and it won’t be at its peak until midnight or so. Be prepared to stay out until the wee hours of the morning. If you don’t stay, you will be the ultimate party pooper. 

This is not to say that nothing is ever on time or that people never show up when they say they will. It doesn’t mean that movies don’t start on time or that when someone is to pick you up at a certain time, they won’t show up until later. No. Punctuality exists, very much so for some people. I’m just saying that if someone isn’t punctual, or if something doesn’t start on time, people don’t have a cow over it. They don’t care. They just go with the flow. “Oh, s/he’s late. I’ll just sit here and read the paper then. Or I’ll talk to the taxi driver about last night's game. Or I’ll just wait and be alone with my thoughts.” I know, crazy. (I am sure many of these waiting people are very likely on their smart phones, texting, and making phone calls these days ... but I am also sure there is a high level of patience attached to those activities.)

So yes, I lived without my watch for quite a few months while I was in Panamá. I didn’t really need it. It's not like I didn’t ever know what time it was or that I never looked at a clock. I still used an alarm clock to get up in the morning. But I think I did pretty well trying to adapt to a new sense of time. It was definitely a learning experience. I didn’t really become a more laid-back person regarding time. But I definitely understand it in a different way when I’m down there.

Before I returned to the U.S., I decided I wanted to buy a new watch there in Panamá. Yes, they sold them there, despite this relaxed way of thinking about time. I went to a store in a mall and started looking at simple, waterproof, big, sport watches. Nothing fancy. I tried them on, and when the salesman found out I was looking for myself, he told me I couldn’t get a man’s watch because I was a woman. That irked me, even though I’m sure he just meant that it wouldn’t fit or look fashionable (right). I bought a watch, ready to tell time again with a simple flick of my wrist. The salesman just shrugged his shoulders in surrender, knowing there was no talking sense to me. 

I still have that watch. I still wear that watch. I have been through many bands, many batteries, and it keeps on ticking (but no, it’s not a Timex). I can’t really wear it in the water anymore because it gets steamed up. And the face is a bit scratched. But I still wear it for any sporty or outdoor activities. I love that watch. I love it because I got it in Panamá. I love it because it’s a man’s watch and I bought it even though a man told me I couldn’t. I love it because it’s simple as heck and still glows in the dark. I love it because I feel it keeps Latin American time. No, it doesn’t make me late. It doesn’t give me an excuse to be late. But I got it in Latin America, the same place where I developed a new sense of time, at least for a little while. I wear it when I’m in Latin America and have purchased bands and batteries in little, family owned jewelry stores in Caracas, Xela, and Oaxaca. I have worn it a lot more often in the U.S. and it was made in Japan, but to me, it is a Latin American watch, telling Latin American time.

Don’t get me wrong, I know plenty of non-Latin American people in the U.S. who are habitually late. And I know plenty of Latin Americans who are never late. But the difference is, the late habit in the U.S. is annoying many people: friends, family, bosses, coworkers. That wouldn’t be the case in Latin America. People would understand or just wouldn’t get upset about it. Time is just part of life, like humidity or a bunch of plantains. It is there, but why think about it? There are more important things to think about, like the fact that friends are getting together or there’s a party at your cousin’s house. Those things are much more thought-worthy than punctuality or tardiness. So just chill out. When you are traveling in Latin America, you might be wearing a watch, but it doesn’t mean anyone else is. 

Age is just a number.

As I have written before in this blog, when you travel alone, you don’t have to stay alone if you don’t want to. Not for very long at least. In my travels over the years, I have often spent time with travelers younger than I. Many of the travelers I meet are in their “gap year” between high school and college. Or they’re taking a break from college. Or they have just finished college.

I have met travelers who were older than that – some who were just taking a vacation for a few weeks. Some were from Europe and had loads of vacation time so they could spend an awesome amount of time traveling. I met a German woman in Nicaragua who was taking a sabbatical from her job as a veterinarian to work in Guatemala for a year. I met a number of couples at various times traveling for a year or more through Central and South America. I’ve met retired people, taking advantage of their freedom to learn a new language and see new places.

During the first few weeks of my stay in Guatemala, I hadn’t met anyone to “hang out with” of any age. I just didn’t connect with any of our volunteers or students and I wasn’t meeting people yet. At the time, I thought it was because most of the people were just too young. And in essence, they were. Sometimes the age gap is more noticeable for whatever reasons. I just couldn’t really relate to these kids. 

One friend I did eventually meet was Brian, a guy from the U.S. who was traveling for a while, trying to pick up some Spanish skills, and volunteering at a bike shop. Brian was younger than I, and we got into this discussion about Generation X. I am a Gen Xer and I would’ve loved to meet more Gen Xers from any country, because I could not relate to these young travelers I was meeting, nor they to me it seemed. Brian swore he was also a Gen Xer, although that wasn’t really important because he was cool. But we did some internet research and sure enough, he just made the cut-off year ... a fellow Gen Xer at last.

For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, Generation X includes those who were born between 1964 and 1980, more or less, depending on the source. So it still encompasses a pretty wide range of ages, but you have a lot of the same cultural references and influences, such as the fall of the Berlin wall, the Space Shuttle disaster, grunge music, and the AIDS epidemic. (But I bet the youngest of the generation may not fare as well in a trivia contest.)

Brian was a fun friend, but he was also hanging out with a lot of younger, shall we say “more clueless,” youngsters, even younger than he was. He had a similar Gen X conversation with some of them, knowing that they were not from that generation. He told them the general birth years of a Gen Xer, and to that they replied “Huh uhn, those aren’t Gen Xers! Those are Baby Boomers!” 

Yikes.

But the truth is, the age of a person does not necessarily signify anything. Most travelers I have met over the years are younger than I am, and as I get older, this becomes even more likely and the age gap even greater. I have met some awesome people who I would probably never hang out with otherwise, just because in every day, non-traveling circumstances, our paths would probably not cross because of where we are in life (9-5 job vs. college) or the countries we live in.

Ronja, my then-20-year-old friend from Denmark, was a great travel companion in Guatemala. She was smart, read interesting books (she had just finished To Kill A Mockingbird and claimed it was her favorite book ever), was fairly obsessed with Roger Waters, and was adventurous. We had fun traveling to northeastern Guatemala, including an amazing trip to the Mayan ruins of Tikal. Our other travel buddy was Evelyn, the 19-year-old niece of a Guatemalan friend in the U.S. who lived fairly close to Flores and Tikal. We had a great time, even spent a few days on a ranch where we rode horses (Evelyn and Ronja for the first time) and played ping pong (Evelyn for the first time). Did they treat me like their mom? No. Did I treat them like ignorant children? No. Did I stay out as late as they did? No. But we did have fun.

Here are Ronja (front) and Evelyn (back)
horseback riding at Finca Ixobel, just south
of Poptún, Guatemala. 

When I was still in Xela, I did finally meet a Gen Xer who was closer to my age. He was from San Francisco and he made a reference to the old game show, Match Game ’77. I was so excited to meet someone who actually remembered Gene Rayburn saying things like “Alice went to the dentist because she had a tooth ache. After her exam the dentist told her, ‘I’m sorry to inform you that I am going to have to      blank     your tooth.” (Here’s a video clip from that long-ago show to jog your memory). We even high-fived in generational solidarity. But despite that small connection, that was all there was. I didn’t hang out and talk with him over beer or hot chocolate, like I did with Ronja and Evelyn. I didn’t cross the country in a bus with him like I did with Ronja. I didn’t wake up at 3 a.m. to get to a sunrise tour of Tikal with him like I did with Ronja and Evelyn.  

Here I am with Evelyn (left) and Ronja (right) in the town of Flores,
Guatemala, near Tikal. I am sure my young friends had no idea who
the heck the Partridge Family was (see my t-shirt, center).
Come on get happy!

Sure, it’s sometimes nice to hang out with people who understand where you come from, not just geographically, but historically. I have met awesome people from the U.S. when I travel.  I have met some great people who are my age. But I love meeting people from other countries. And age really is just a number. Sometimes it accurately depicts a person’s knowledge base/experience (“ ... those are Baby Boomers!”). But sometimes it camouflages the maturity and intellect of a younger person. Don’t think you’re too old to hang out with 20-somethings if you’re not one yourself.  When you travel, you might be surprised at who becomes a friend. In the end, the memory of a game show from the 1970s is probably not an important connection. Many of the people you will meet as you travel were not even born then. Maybe you weren’t even born then. No matter what your age, just have fun with those you meet on the road ... whether you or they know who Gene Rayburn is or not.