My Hypothetical Adventure in Guatemala

Just a minute ago, I was talking to my friend as our group wandered through the Guatemalan mercado.  The maze of rows was filled with vendors selling everything from clothing to wood carvings to jewelry.  Each item was brilliantly colored; bright reds, emerald greens, deep blues and sunny yellows caught our eyes from every stall.  Gradually, our conversation petered out as we looked more closely at the carefully crafted items.  Enthralled by the artistry, I wandered from stall to stall.  I must have gone in a different direction than my friends, because when I looked up, I was all alone.  Frantically, I looked around to find a familiar face, but I saw only strangers.

Not knowing what else to do, I called out: “Fiona!  Lois!  Where are you?”

My voice seemed to disappear into the crowd, and I started to feel panicked.  I’ve got to calm down, I thought, but there are too many people here!  I can’t think…  After a few panicked moments, I remembered having gone through a calmer garden area.  I remembered where I had been, more or less, so I started to head in that direction.

After a few wrong turns in the market’s maze of aisles, I found my way to the garden.  There were a few empty benches around the perimeter, so I sank down onto one.  For a moment, I allowed myself to wallow in despair, but it was only for an instant.  I needed to figure out what to do.  I took inventory, but this only served to show me how woefully unprepared I was for this situation.  The only things with me were a passport and twenty quetzales.  The hotel we were staying in was on the other side of the city, and we hadn’t arranged a place to meet if we got separated.  I had to do something, but at the same time I knew that I probably shouldn’t go too far away from here; what if they realized I was missing and came back to look for me?  In addition, I might get lost.

Running through my limited Spanish, I decided that I knew enough to try communicating with one of the vendors.  Maybe if I managed to make a vendor understand that I was lost, they would help.  With this in mind, I looked around the perimeter of the garden, at the booths.  A glimmer of hope resurfaced in my mind as I remembered that one of the adults in our group knew one of them: the woman who was selling bags.  I got up and started making my way over to her, trying to figure out what to say as I weaved through the stream of people.  As I went, I happened to catch a bit of conversation from a young woman walking the other way.

…”and then I asked if I could have another towel, but she said”…

She was speaking English!  I spun around and located the woman; she was talking on a cell phone.  As I watched, she hung up and put her phone away.  A phone… I thought.  I changed directions and walked over to her.  I tapped her on the shoulder, but she ignored me.  I couldn’t blame her; street sellers had probably been trying to sell her things from the moment she had stepped off the plane.  I needed her help, though.  I ran up beside her and edged in front of her, saying, “Excuse me!”

She stopped in surprise, and narrowing her eyes, she asked, “What do you want?”

I hesitated for a moment, discouraged by the hostility evident in her voice.  I did need help, though, so I pressed on.  “I don’t know where the rest of my group is, and I don’t have any way of contacting them.”

Her eyes widened in comprehension, and her demeanor relaxed.  I took this as encouragement to go on, so I continued.

“Do you have a cell phone?  If so, may I use it to call them and tell them where I am really quickly?  I can pay you back for the minutes.”

She looked at me thoughtfully, gauging how much of the truth I was telling.  After a few seconds which seemed to last an age, she came to a decision.  “As long as you don’t run away and stay right here where I can see you,” she told me, “you can call your group.  Here.”  And with that, she held out her phone.

“Thank you so much!” I gushed.  “I promise I won’t go anywhere… thank you.  I don’t know what I would have done…”  I dialed my group leader’s phone number, and she picked up on the first ring.  I told her where I was and said a few words of explanation, then hung up and gave the phone back.  As I handed the phone to the kind woman, I thanked her again, and I tried to pay her back for the phone minutes I had used up.

She shook her head and smiled, saying, “No, don’t worry about it.  I’m just glad that I could help you.  And I’m also glad that you didn’t steal my phone.  Good luck, and goodbye!”

With that, she walked off.  In a matter of minutes, I saw the rest of my group coming towards me.  I jumped up and ran over to them, happily greeting them and telling them all about what had happened.  I never learned the kind young woman’s name, but I will always be thankful to her.