Nuestra casa es tu casa

My mom is the reigning queen of clichés. I love teasing her about (what I think are) dated phrases, some of them well-known expressions and others...well I just have no idea. But mama, you know it's all in good fun. And actually, last weekend, I welcomed a famous cliché with wide open arms: a variation of mi casa es su casa. My 23rd birthday was Sunday, and as I shared in a previous post, one of my new friends who is currently studying at IGA refused to let me spend my birthday anywhere but in his beloved Santa Lucia Naranjo, one of eight aldeas outside the coastal city of Coatepeque.

After an ear-popping 2 hour drive through the mountains that insulate Xela and give the city its trademark chilly climate, we reached the flatland that stretches to the Pacific coast. Even though we were visibly in a more tropical area, it wasn't until I rolled down my window that I actually believed it was at least 15 degrees hotter than it had been in Xela that morning. As we pulled aside of Franz and Sigrid's parents' house, I felt a twinge of nervousness, though it left just as quickly as it came. Franz's mom stepped off the porch, breaking from her lunch preparation to give me one of the best hugs I've received so far in Guate. As she pulled away, she grasped both of my arms and said, "Nuestra casa es tu casa"-- our house is your house. Goodbye cliché and hello words sweeter than the oranges that we bought on the side of the road to snack on during the drive. And trust me, those oranges were some of the sweetest fruit I've ever had.

Many of you can empathize that holidays and other "special" days always make you feel more sentimental when you're far away from home. Maybe it's the nostalgia for family and friends, or maybe it's the momentary panic that comes with glimpsing what life could be like alone on days that the rest of society deems as times when no one should be by themselves. I don't know the reason, but, after last weekend, I DO know that spending those days with another family can certainly take the edge off. Not only did Franz's dad wake up at 6am to set off fire-crackers in their side yard, a birthday celebration tradition here in Guate, but he also serenaded us with a breakfast prelude that wished me a happy birthday and many blessings throughout the rest of my life. A few of us trekked to Tilapa beach late morning and then headed to meet the rest of the family for a river-side picnic lunch. Even though the spanish was a bit fast-paced for me, resulting in many please explain glances in Franz's direction, I joked, laughed, ate, and reclined in the warm breeze as comfortably as if I were with my own family. What a blessing wrapped in a birthday I will never ever forget.