3. Feb. 2025
After returning from the trip, this week was a chance to settle back into a regular routine. The theme of the afternoon class was human rights and we started with a trip to the OHDAG offices (Office of Human Rights of the Archbishop of Guatemala). The next day we watched a documentary called The Art of Political Murder. The group got some extra free time to rest up since one of the speakers was unable to meet with us. The group also had its second full weekend with host families.
Personal Reflection: the 5 Senses Edition
My sense of smell is constantly engaged here. Maybe that’s because I have a weirdly sensitive sense of smell (thanks, Mom) or all of my senses are on overload all of the time and I just so happen to notice my nose. I smell exhaust, B.O., eucalyptus, tortillas, the shoes I wear every day, (yuck) my host mom’s laundry detergent, and rarely – fresh air.
My ears are on overdrive. Between the mix of languages, cars, idling bus engines as we inch along Calle Roosevelt, yowling cats, gospel music from taxi radios, the fruit/ice cream/pizza guys shouting their wares, the mourning doves with a different song. It feels weird when it is quiet here. My eyes are overwhelmed with sights that are hard to process – the Terminal Market, Cayalá, more traffic than I’ve ever seen, electrical wires that are terrifyingly hung. My hands feel the stickiness of the bus and my host mom’s shoulder as she cries in church. My skin feels sweat, dirt, hugs from my host brother. I taste new foods – tamales that make me gag, rellenitos (of which I could eat hundreds), tortillas, caldo, (soup) caldo, y más caldo. These senses are what make this experience real. Proof that I’m here. Proof that I’m not dreaming.
-Esme Martin
