It is altogether familiar and like nothing I have ever known. The shuttle, the bright day, the trees that are like pines or redwoods but are not pines nor redwoods. The dog with the lame foot wandering between the people, taxis, motorcycles and old cars, eating scraps off the ground. The people gathered at the fence to watch the planes take off, or wandering the dirt paths carved into the hillsides alongside the highway, or riding in the backs of trucks.
As I leave the airport in Guatemala City, I see the booth offering shuttles to Antigua for $12 a person. My trajectory is not a strange one. Many travelers wait outside the next shuttle out of the city. Guatemala City is a sprawling, busy mess. I imagine it would make a great location for a movie- a detective story, or a drama thriller, perhaps, but it is no place for the uninformed, lone tourist.
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