Author: Toni Rahman

After waiting for 8 hours in the airport in Chicago, I caught my flight without any problems, and was received after claiming my luggage by a woman holding a sign with my name on it.  I just love it when that happens.  She took me to the van where Alberto was waiting for me.  Alberto drove quickly and efficiently to the bus station, used my quetzales to purchase my bus fare, and carried and checked my bags.  On the bus, I sat with an American from Washington State.  We were good traveling buddies.  No energy was spent on formalities, or idle chatter.  We left without exchanging names, but he checked out my Rough Guide to Guatemala, and let me sleep and ask intermittent questions about his work, his plans, and his experiences (all in English).

In Quetzaltenango, or Xela, as they call it here, I was helped to find a taxi, and without too much trouble or expense, I found the school.  Actually, I recognized it before the taxi driver did, from the pictures I saw on the Internet.  The school is in the second floor of a huge building that used to be a station for horses and buggies.  Or so I’m told.  I’ve taken quite a few pictures with my phone, so if I can, I’ll figure out how to upload these pictures and share them with you.  I also have pictures from the bus ride.  I’m afraid these pictures won’t be of the best quality, but they will give you an idea of what it looks like here.

Once I arrived at the school, staff members here explained a little about the setup, and who my host family and teacher would be.  He called the host family, who sent someone to come get me and my bags.  Alejandro, a social and energetic 17-year old came to get me.  He asked me questions, and initiated dialogue while we left the school and walked along irregular sidewalks, around corners, through traffic, to his house.  I learned that he is in culinary school and in massage school simultaneously.  I conjured all the Spanish I could to explain to him my raw food preferences, and other dietary tendencies, since I had a feeling he would help me get my food needs met.  He was just great, teaching me where light switches at the house were, quizzing me after showing me how to get into the house, how to use a key to lock and unlock my bedroom door.  By now, it was Monday, about noon.   In short, it was a lot of information to absorb in a very short time.  And I was still feeling like I had not quite slept since Saturday night, in the very comfortable bed at Trina’s house in Columbia.

I think I took a half hour nap, because Claudia, Alejandro’s mother was not yet home.  Somebody came to get me when it was time to eat.  I ate at the table with places set for the family.  Everyone was out, but I was beginning to learn who the family was by the rooms in the house, and their places at the table.  There is Clauda and Cesar (Mom and Dad), There is Alejandro (17) and Andrea (16), and finally, there is Irene (8).  They have a dog named Wolfie (1).  Allegedly, he eats things, and so I should probably make sure and lock my door.

Alejandro had cooked me a vegetarian meal with carrots and tofu and onions, some seared green onions, guacamole, something rather like gazpacho, that he had intended to be a sauce, but I ate it with the guacamole and it was delightful.  He also made potatoes with basil, and I ate that with the guacamole too.  A very wonderful meal.  Then I met Claudia and Andrea, and finally Irene, and it was time for me to go to the school.  I wasn’t sure I could remember how to get back to the school, but it seemed that Alejandro was pretty sure I could easily do it. So after a little direction, I set off.  After walking pretty hard for about 15 minutes, I realized that I was not going to be able to find the school without help, so I returned the way I had come.  Once more, Alejandro took me to the school, where I was about an hour late to my first lesson.  I met my teacher, who is Pati.  I love her.  She is a social work student (or the equivalent of social work), but rather than finish her program, she has decided to take a job, working with a foreign agency here in Xela, working with women.  Her disposition is great for me.  I don’t feel a bit uncomfortable experimenting with speaking.  She offers lots of encouragement, and she is good at what she does.  I had been working for about an hour and a half, and was feeling myself pushing hard to stay engaged, and she said, “okay, let’s work for 10 more minutes, and they we can take a break, Okay?”  That’s the kind of encouragement I needed.  I don’t think she realized at that point that I was operating at somewhat of a disadvantage.  I hope to give her a little more energy today.  At any rate, I feel like all the hard work I have invested in building vocabulary and learning Spanish in the past is actually paying off.  I think she is impressed.  My Spanish is definitely better than her English, and that is a perfect thing in this learning situation.

I am having a great time, and am working hard.  I hope the same is true for you.

Chicago O’Hare International Airport.  It’s Sunday, June 30 at 11:19 pm, and my connecting flight doesn’t leave until Monday, July 1 at 3:00 am.  For some reason I thought it left at 1:00 am.  But, sure enough, I check the itinerary, and it says 3:05 am.  On the way back it will be 1:00 am.  Good enough.  Since arriving in Chicago, I’ve had a fabulous Greek salad, and some Godiva chocolate (dark chocolate covered almonds and dark chocolate with raspberries).  Yummy.  Thank you, Tracy, for helping me get online here in the airport.  I also want to express my gratitude for all the support I feel, from the grace, ease, and magic I’ve felt pretty much every step of the way, to the people who have been there to share their ideas, their listening, and their enthusiasm and faith with me, to the people who have so generously hosted and fed me since I turned my Bluff Dale house over to its new inhabitants, Chris, Ashley, Sophie, Oliver, and Louis.  And my daughters, who continue to offer their love and support, through this crazy, cockamamie transition I’m going through.  I feel so much love, and so much appreciation for you all.  I know that I am not alone, and that is so valuable to me.

I’ll get to Guatemala City at 6:25 am, in time to catch a bus to Quetzaltenango, where my language school is.  That will be a 4-hour ride.  What I am most excited about is meeting my host family and my teacher, and beginning the hard work of language acquisition.  It also occurred to me that, for years, I have been asking for a work situation that funds my travel.  I wonder if I am moving into a phase of my career where that will be the case.  If so, then I won’t need to figure out how to earn the money to cover airfare.  Now I’m imagining a conversation with a friend in Bangladesh who is a professor at University of Dhaka, who is keen on me coming to Dhaka to provide supervision for therapists who are learning to practice EMDR.  How cool would it be if I could provide supervision and/or therapy to clinicians in Dhaka.  Three months of the year in Dhaka sounds ideal to me.  That would give me a chance to connect with and support up-and-coming therapists, and reconnect with old friends, and explore that country in a way I was not able to when I lived there before.

I’ll also be checking out healing centers in Guatemala, which is a neighbor to El Salvador, toward which I’ve felt an affinity for years.   I am envisioning meeting exactly the people I need to meet to make such an exchange possible: organizations that have the resources to transport and house an international staff member/consultant, and a need for the skills and expertise I have.  Thirdly, my sister, Tracy, who lives in Guadalajara, has been mentioning friends there in Mexico who are involved in developing a healing center in her general neighborhood.  These friends seem to have a unique set of offerings uncannily aligned with mine.  Who knows what is in store for me?  I am open.  I am willing.  I feel your prayers and your support.  And I am expecting the very best.

Just wanted to let you know that I am officially finished with what you may have known as my private practice.  I just chased down my last unpaid claim, filed my last official document, and heaved a huge, delighted sigh of relief.  Don’t get me wrong, I have absolutely loved this past chapter of my life – and would not trade it for anything in the world.  My clients, it is you I have to thank.  You have healed me.  Through your courage and relentless work, your tenacity, and generosity, I am a different person now than I was six and a half years ago when I declared myself a therapist.  And now I am ready to go out and reinvent myself.  I’m not promising anybody anything today except that I will continue to be a creative being.  Not sure what it’s going to look like in a week or a year, but I have a feeling it will include travel, language (written and spoken), healing, and magic.  I will want to share it with you, and you are welcome to follow me here, ask me questions, or just pop in to say hi!  I can’t promise that I’ll always respond right away, as I may not have access to Internet, but I will do my best.  I love you all!

Finished a lovely book by Iyanla Vanzant.  Here’s just a paragraph from her book, In the Meantime: Finding Yourself and the Love You Want:

pg 276: Someplace in the back of our minds, we believe if there is someone else out there like me, that means I can’t be all that bad.  Without realizing it, we go out looking for ourselves, believing that if we can find ourselves we will be happy.  The thing is, we don’t always like who we are because we have forgotten the truth.  We think we need to be fixed — not healed, but fixed.  There is a big difference.  Consequently, when we see ourselves in other people, in our partners, in our family members, in our friends, we get busy fixing them rather than healing ourselves.

If you want to read the rest of my gleanings, go to In the Meantime