Two Days in Antigua, Guatemala

I watched each of the bags slowly move on the creaky conveyor belt in Guatemala City airport, wondering where mine was. With increasing impatience I tried to spot my gray duffel bag, probably sandwiched among all those huge suitcases the Guatemalan natives had brought with them. From time to time the bags belt would bunch up against one another causing some to fall on the ground. This necessitated the baggage crew activating the blaring siren signal, stopping the entire belt and reloading the fallen bags, and restarting the whole darned thing. Quite comical actually. I had a laugh at my own feeling of deja vu, since only last May I had witnessed the same exact thing happen.

Finally the last of the bags were claimed by their owners, and mine was nowhere in sight. Roughly a third of the flight's passengers suffered the same fate. Apparently all those suitcases did not fit into the plane's cargo area, and thus we were the unlucky ones. After filling out the baggage claim form at the counter, I decided to find a shuttle van to take me to Antigua - the scene of many amazing memories from my last vacation. Waiting for the van to leave, I exchanged the usual pleasantries with the woman seated next to me, and to our amazement, Marjan and I discovered we were part of the same tour group and spent the hour-long ride exchanging travel stories.

Don Juan greeted me warmly when he opened the door to his house. We talked about the old times, my current trip and luggage predicament. Dona Amalia walked by with a noticeable limp and saw me - she had fallen down some stairs, broken her hip, and was on the long journey back to recovery. And as usual, the numerous (6 in all) grandchildren came by to play and were surprised not only at my presence, but also that I had still remembered all of their names.