I’ve got a story. Last week, I road around the mountains in Guatemala in the back of a truck. Jalapa is about 2 hours east of Guatemala City. Dusty roads. Roads that go Up and down. A lot of cowboy hats and a lot of tiendas, which are little convenience stores that serve the best Fanta you could ask for. There was a play list that went on in my head while I stood in the back of the truck. Bon Iver’s For Emma, The xx’s VCR, Belle and Sebastian’s It Could Have Been A Brilliant Career.  I brought my signature black Volcom backpack. Rocked the side bun and front braid. Wore my TOMS with outrageous pride.

I landed in a country where I didn’t know anything more than how to say “hello” and “good bye.” Because really, what do you do? I flew down straight from UBC all by myself. How do you get to your hotel? How do you communicate your needs or ask for prices on goods? I arrived at Guatemala City’s airport in my big nerdy glasses. I already stood out because I was the only young white girl there. The glasses didn’t help.

I could tell you about the things I did while I was down there volunteering, but what I found to be more interesting was the people I met. An engineering masters student from Iraq in Texas, the man who blew up the Death Star, a girl on her way to a funeral, and a teenage boy living in the mountains who was never taught how to mix primary colours.

I’ll be posting a series of stories about these people and the experiences I had with them in Guatemala and in my travels. They’ll be up on the blog over the next few weeks.

Summer 2010 is just beginning.