Why I Love Public Transportation

Bus ride from el diablo. Starting in El Rancho, Guatemala we were abandoned in a desolate, industrial stinky-town after paying 22 dollars. "At least we can relax in luxury for once," Holly falsely predetermined just hours before our doom. What we expected was an air-conditioned, leather seated, double-decker, but what we were left with was a torn apart, disintigrating 16-passenger van. The stench was already uncontainable as 18 Guatemaltecos with machetes piled in. "At least we have the view...," I said as we were packed in like sardines. The poor men in the back had to sit on a slanted seat due to the fact that our giant backpacks were an unexpected surprise to the tin can on wheels. As the ayudante (the driver´s little helper) continues to shout "COBAN, COBAN, COBAN!" Holly and I look at each other with a stink eye that says ´Can we fit ANY more people?!?´

We finally get going, situated and borderline comfortable when we come to a sudden halt at the end of a long line of cars; "Una hora y media para esperar," the driver says as he shuts off the van and starts sucking down an ice cream-in-a-bag with his shirt up so his belly sticks out (we call this look the "Bro"). 'Great'. The heat is dense and the air is thick and smelly. We get going rather quickly across the broken bridge where the windows were closed from the dust: that´s when it really starting smelling like B.O. Onion Butt. Painful. Our driver was either blind or ignorant because he pulled over to every person on the freeway to see if they wanted a ride. Person after person, piling in the van: squishing brought to the highest degree as the stink only increased . At 27 people Holly and I were sure that the van was maxed out. We were wrong. Five more people topped us off at 32 people for a three hour ride to Coban. "At least we have a window with a view," we said positively. It was at that precise moment that the little girl in front of us blew chunks out the window--and everywhere else (including my pant leg). Yummy. The only consolation to this treacherous ride was singing "All my homies, you know who I mean, baby let me show you how I lean- like a cholo..." But we made it to Coban and needless to say we are splurging on a bottle of wine and cheesecake to reward ourselves for withstanding the infamous van to Coban, swine flu-less.

El Salvador Orphanage

Anyone who has traveled alone knows that it can be, well, lonely....and after a few weeks back in Guatemala I was feeling pretty sola. Even though I've met so many people from all over the world, the relationships can sometimes be rather shallow. So I spent a lot of time reading and journaling and praying that God would show me why I was here and give me some sort of community. Holly joined me in Guatemala and we took a bus to San Salvador where we met a group from Praxis Church to do a week long mission trip at an orphanage. The eleven other team members from Arizona were some of the most amazing and encouraging people I've ever met. We worked side by side destroying concrete and building a new foundation at the orphanage, and our free time was spent loving the kids and the occasional mango fight and barrel-rolling on the side. Clearly, my favorite part was the community and support we had together; hours and hours of de-briefing with the girls every night was an answer to prayers. In the end, the kids showed us way more love, truth and innocence than we could even begin to show them, but it was a blessing. I would shovel sand, paint railings, and jack-hammer concrete for the Lord any day.