Post from 11/18/2011, unfinished

Guatemala...

We landed in the airport, that C said looked very much different from the way he remembered it when he left N years ago. It has been newly remodeled and appeared modern but not flashy. We had a simple and painless time in customs, and proceeded to the exit, where we expected to find our car rental company to be waiting for us. To our surprise, they were not there. We didn't have any local cash, and purposely didn't do the exchange within the airport, because of the unfavorable exchange rates. But now we were facing a problem of no cash, no car, and no way to call, since all the payphones use local tokens and not a credit card, and since our phones were turned off to prevent crazy roaming fees. We noticed some other car rental company booths at the airport, and double-checked their rates, to see if we could just use them instead, but like our previous research showed, they were way off our budget. Finally we had an idea to ask information desk to use their phone, which we did, and were able to get the rental company come and finally pick us up. It turns out that they expected us 2 hours later, due to the information that we provided to them, so it seems this was actually our own error. As they drove us to the rental company location, we became slightly concerned, as the area looked a little more like Detroit bus station. Arriving at a man-operated barb-wired gate, we got into the car rental property that National shared with other car rentals. After a quick discussion, we were informed that the car that we are supposed to have will not be available for another 4 hours or so. They suggested that we take another car, and proceed with our plans, and that they will come to us to exchange it later. This worried me a lot, because i have read so many things about car quality issues, and i didn't want to be stuck with any car that was not satisfactory for our long upcoming journey. I personally would have preferred to leave all of the bags at the car rental, and take another one of their cars to do sightseeing in Guatemala City, but C had no desire to do that due to various safety concerns. Sightseeing with our luggage and money in the trunk of the car was not a good option either, since the chances of everything being stolen would be considerable. Because any such incident would derail our entire trip, we opted to take a replacement rental to just run a few errands: exchange money and get a local cell phone.
As C started driving, i quickly realized that the rules of the road in Guatemala were much different from anything that i have ever encountered. Cars, motorcycles, people and dogs were competing for the right-of-way, traffic signals were viewed as optional, and people were spilling out from half-opened doors of buses. As i watched his eyes get really big and his back stiffen, i started murmuring something along the lines of "its ok, its ok" in an attempt to comfort him, but it was no use. The next thing we did added to this discomfort: we went to a gas station. While i waited in the car, C went to pay for gas, then he came back and we happily drove off...without pumping gas. After circling around the block we were able to come back to the gas station and actually put in the gas, right before another customer was about to take advantage of the pre-paid pump.
Our next task was to exchange money, and to buy a cheap phone with minutes. In my infinite wisdom after reading a heap of blogs on travel to Guatemala, i directed us not to use money exchange at the airport, but go to a bank to get better exchange rates. This was probably a mistake, as navigating in an unfamiliar city with difficult parking and not so stellar safety record, in a car full of luggage, and with a non-local looking entity such as i am, was a very stressful adventure. The first bank that we went to after driving around for a while was chosen because we managed to figure out where to enter and how to park there. At the entrance we were greeted by a grim-looking person with a rifle, he inquired what we wanted and pointed us to the underground parking, that was dark, tiny, and full of cars parked in every which way. In the bank when we inquired about exchange, the manager said that without a bank account he could not exchange anything, and that we have to go back to the airport. C was compelled to do that, but i insisted that the man was wrong and all we had to do is find a different bank, as this one was actually more of a credit union. In another bank they happily exchanged our dollars, which we divided in multiple piles and stuffed in different locations for safety. We also walked to a local mall, were we procured without much hassle a phone with some minutes.

Mama's Rassolnik

So, my parents came to town, stayed for a week and headed back home. But i still have the leftovers of the Russian Rassolnik soup in the fridge! My mom made it, and it came out beautifully yummy. This is the soup of my childhood, the ultimate comfort food for the cold weather days. The contents included: cooked barley, onions, potatoes, carrots, celery, chopped pickles, and beet stems (the latter is not a regular ingredient for a Rassolnik, but it was something that we had in the fridge that had to be used up). With some added salt and pepper, and a low sodium chicken stock cube, this came out to be as good or even better than i remember. Back home they ate it with a dab of sour scream on top, but i always preferred it "naked" and not cloudy. I have attempted cooking this myself in the past, but i don't think mine ever came out as good... I guess some things require practice, practice, practice...

The meaning of life

Yesterday as we were driving around, C told me that our ant Carro asked me to translate a phrase about the meaning of life. I do not recall it exactly, but it pointed to the fact that the point of existence is the search for the meaning of life. I thought it was strikingly accurate. I know that i, along with probably 90% of other teenagers had spent many hours agonizing about the meaning of life, discussing and debating it with others. I have also gone the full circle on it, from thinking that the meaning is something that i will eventually find, to postulating that the meaning does not exist at all and we are all just a biological constructs with multiplying and dying cells. My latest conviction was that the meaning was simply to experience joy and to help others do the same. But perhaps it is all much simpler... Perhaps the meaning is in the quest itself. Perhaps we are encoded to look for a meaning in everything, and that is precisely what drives us, moves us ahead. Finding a meaning in the every day little things is meaningful, and also joyful. I treasure my days, i treasure my moments, they are all so fleeting. Everything is ever-changing, even our memories. Every day we gain more insight, and therefore every day we ourselves are different than we were the previous day, and it is magnificent and horrifying at the same time. Do i wish for my partner to be the same enchanting young man i met in Portland? Part of me does, for sentimental reasons, of course, but another part of me wishes for him to always grow, to reach new heights of understanding, to be wiser, happier, etc. Evolution is the natural order of things, and evolution is constant change. Making peace with evolution, fully accepting it, is like granting yourself the permission to be happy. Not having the urge to pull out grey hair, or to get wrinkles removed is part of accepting the evolution. I haven't pulled any grey hair in about a year now, i don't know how many of them i have now, but i know i started with 3 when i was moving to Cali. I still feel like a teenager, but much wiser. I hope i continue to feel the internal youth for years to come. I think one of the reasons why older people don't like to contemplate the meaning of life is because they are secretly afraid that they have missed it already...