Reaction, Reflection, Response -- on leaving Guatemala

February 2nd, 2013: The plane smells like old people and manufactured air. I'm sitting next to two other TTS girls – I forget their names – Eliza and Simone, maybe? Everything is going by too fast. I'm still tired from yesterday, and it seems unreal that I'm on this trip. I'm flying to a new country. I'm about to embark on a crazy adventure. The plane tilts for a moment, and my gaze falls out the window. My heart flutters and I suck my breath in: Guatemala. The city is crowded – cars, people, buses. The mountains are expansive – lush, inviting, and peaceful. The plane touches the runway. I'm here.

April 13th, 2013: I take a deep breath, and I let the cold (yes, cold!) air conditioning wash over my body. I feel lighter, without Shannie Pants (group gear bag), my big pack, AND my day pack somehow attached to my body. I'm sitting by myself (I couldn't deal with smelling Eliza´s sweat), but I keep peaking my head over the seats to see what everyone is doing. It doesn't feel right being separated from them (even as much as 2 seats). I hear Carol laughing, Kat farting … yes; everyone is going what they normally do. I can´t contemplate the fact that we´re leaving Guatemala, the country where I have dug my roots in deep and can´t stop myself from growing in. The tip of the plane lifts up, and we´re flying. I see faces hidden in the mountains below, smiles of all the people I've met, and a history I now know better than my own. We´re gone; we´re up. On to the next place, as usual.

I worried for a while I wouldn't change. I wouldn't grow from this trip. I realize every step I have taken has been ingrained in my head, in my memory, has solidified the woman I AM. Yes, I can´t wait to go back to a pantry full of food, parents to take care of me, but now I have learned of places and history I will never forget. Everything that has been added to my big blue pack isn't just souvenirs – it´s guerrillas, it´s guns, it´s tortillas, it´s dirt soccer fields, it´s trajes, it´s everything. I honestly can´t believe 2 ½ months have passed us by, and the last 30 days are in the stretch. Thirty days? I contemplate what life will be like when I return home – normal, yes, but so different. I am different. I have learned of injustices known to not even my own parents, learned the cruel ways of my own country, and have learned of the happiness that exists despite all of it. Another plane ride soon approaches – even 30 days will give me time to learn more.

I said I will be different when I go home – it´s true. I asked Carol tonight how old you have to be to start a non-profit. She said it didn't matter. At the same time, a chorus of other hostel-stayers behind me added their knowledge – yes, age doesn't matter. Just get a sponsor-- I have a friend who did that – Answers which give me hope for when I touch back down in Boston. No, I don´t have to start a non-profit, but I am PASSIONATE enough to do so. It is this passion which I have gained on the trip – a desire to be a global citizen. My plane rides do not stop here – change doesn't stop here. And it doesn't have to me who changes – it will be me who brings the change.

--Maggie April 14th, 2013