Carlos de Livingston

I'm tired but I can't go to sleep yet. I'm awaiting the arrival of the last house guest, another guy who will be departing for Celas Maya in the morning. There are 3 others here, med students from South Carolina who are going to a different school in Xela -- I think the same one as Dr. Wertsch's son.
I've had a blur of a day -- a nice breakfast at Bob Evans with Beck and Joey, and then long lines at MIA to check-in.
The "guy" just arrived, downstairs. Sounds like a girl, though. Should I put on my shirt?
Anyway, the story of Carlos: After I collected my luggage and exited the airport to the area flanked by taxi drivers and hotel van drivers, there was no one to be found wielding my name on a little poster. I was a little bummed, though not really alarmed, because I figured it would mean the start of some unwanted drama. I could see myself getting a taxi to an internet cafe, looking up the number or address of the bed & breakfast... the sort of adventure I've grown weary of pursuing during my travels. It's not that I couldn't find the place on my own -- I arrived in Budapest at 10 pm and made my way to the hostel where I'd booked a room the week before. It's just that, when you're told to expect a guy holding up your name, it starts to sound like an awfully cushy way to travel.
Anyway, while I was standing around waiting patiently for my ride to arrive (apparently this was the lesson I needed to learn from Courtney on Thursday), a guy smiled at me and said something to the effect of " I'll bet you came from someplace else and won't hate me because of my skin." Not your usual opening line from someone looking for a few tourist dollars. This guy, whose name was Carlos, was of African descent and spoke with a coft creole accent that made me think he hailed from the Caribe -- but it turns out he's from Livingston, on the Caribbean coast of Guatemala. He told me that Guatemalans won't talk to people with dark skin like his, and our brief exchange really seemed to excite him a bit. We chatted about languages, and about Carlos' s time in the US, where he tried to find work but got caught in Philadelphia by the INS. A Dominican pointed him out for $100. U.S. Marshalls then deported him to a prison in Guatemala City, where he languished for 3 days before the warden released him on account of "insufficient budget" to keep him locked up. Talk about immigration reform: here was one un-success story shaking my hand. Anyway, the situation was pretty skewed: Carlos got kicked out of my country, but here I was freely entering his. It was also strange to be hailed as an open-minded opponent of racism. Coming from Mississippi, I'm not used to such flattery.
Carlos mentioned with visible pleasure that "even cops" in Philadelphia would greet him on the street, unlike most Guatemalans who turned to glare at him for hassling a white tourist.
Let's hope things work out for Carlos.. maybe one day I'll run into him again, on my side of the border.
On a digressive tangent, Becky and Joey and I got a small taste of what it's like to be discriminated against when we pulled over, quite hungry, to eat at the Palm City Grill in Port St Lucie last night for dinner. I don't know if it was our clothing or what, but the condescending attitudes of the staff were pretty aggrevating. The waitress talked down to us like we'd never eaten at a restaurant before, which was particularly ironic considering we'd just eaten at Emeril's multi-star fusion restaurant the night before. We joked that we'd rather have just one of our four waiters from Emeril's -- even the one "in training" who only replenished our silverware -- rather than the arrogant blonde crank we got at Palm City. They must have sensed our displeasure, because before we left they switched our waitress on us. At least the seafood bisque was tasty.
The second-coolest experience of my day (after meeting Carlos) was seeing the nearly-empty storefront with "se vende tortillas" written above, where 3 or 4 young girls in traditional cortes were busily hand-crafting tortillas. It was a pretty amazing site.
On a related note, we had tasty chicken with rice and vegetables for dinner. And fresh fruit. I reminded myself that I don't like papaya.