La Zona Viva

It was well after dark in Guatemala City and I was lost and alone. During my two months traveling alone around Central America I had made a concerted effort to avoid arriving in new-particularly potentially dangerous-places after dark. I had been successful, till now. The bus from the border of El Salvador (actually, the last of a series of buses from the border to Guatemala City) had deposited me at its final stop--a gas station somewhere in the sprawling quasi-metropolis of Guatemala City. My goal was to get back to Antigua, where I would spend the last few days of my trip before flying back to The United States. The problem, besides being alone in the dark in Guatemala City, was that I had no idea where I was in relation to where I needed to be. The map I had was of the country, not the city, and even then it was simply a big Guatemala-shaped blob with a few rivers and several big dots marked with the names of significant cities. My strategy of navigation thus far consisted of a lot of wandering, and a lot of asking. I hoisted my pack, made sure my money belt with my passport and credit cards was hidden, and put my ATM card in my bra. I figured it was the safest place for it, figuring if someone found the card inside my bra, I had much bigger problems at that point. My other navigation tactic when lost in big cities is to head toward the most lights and the tallest buildings. So off I went in that direction.

It turned out "that direction" was not as direct as I had hoped. The street I first ventured down dead ended at a freeway overpass, at which point I turned right and found myself heading away from what appeared to be the epicenter, and toward what appeared to be a dark, scary, sparsely populated area of town. I turned right again and was once again heading toward the tall buildings and lights. That's when I stumbled upon a Little Caesars Pizza place. Now, under normal circumstances (as if those exist!) I would never eat at an American chain restaurant while traveling abroad. But, when one finds oneself lost, alone, and scared in Guatemala City, it is truly amazing how much comfort one gets from an order of Crazy Bread consumed in a booth in a well-lit restaurant.

Gradually my surroundings became more attractive, better lit, more populated, and all around more comforting. I began to pass nice modern residences, then restaurants where people were sitting on outdoor patios enjoying meals and drinks. All of this was immensely gratifying. Then, I turned a corner and found myself, suddenly, in LA ZONA VIVA! Seriously, there was a sign that announced the neighborhood was called La Zona Viva. It was a modern development of bars, restaurants and nightclubs in downtown. To the affluent residents of Guatemala City, La Zona Viva was the place people came to eat, drink, dance and socialize. But to a young, lost, scared, lone American backpacker who had been wandering the dark streets of a foreign city for over an hour, it was, literally, "The Living Area," where my fear finally melted away. I wandered the streets for awhile, basking in the liveliness of it all, toying with the idea of pulling out my credit card, getting a room at the Holiday Inn that was not technically in my budget, getting cleaned up and going out to join the festivities. But the budget of a budget traveler is deeply ingrained, especially when that traveler is going back to no home and no job. I had been traveling all day and was tired and dirty, and the fact was I needed a place to sleep and a way to Antigua the next day.

I had in the pocket of my backpack the back page of a "tourist publication" from El Salvador. The back page was full of ads for hostels and hotels in Guatemala City. I had torn it out in case I needed it at some point. Well, now I needed it. I found a hostel that was an $8 taxi ride away. The hostel itself was $12 and included breakfast. It was in a gorgeous private home. I woke up the proprietress, but she had a bed and made me feel welcome.

The next morning over breakfast the proprietress asked about my plans. When I told her I was trying to get to Antigua she said she was driving up there to distribute some advertising, and could take me for the equivalent of about $3. That would normally be a great deal, but I had four days left till I flew home, and just enough cash left to pay for the cheapest hotel in Antigua, just enough food to survive, the cost of transport and guide to climb the nearby volcano, and the ride to the airport. I explained this to her as best I could in my Spanish, and asked for directions to the bus to Antigua. She said it was far and would be a long walk, but gave me general directions. I thanked her profusely and left. I realized fairly quickly that I would have a difficult time navigating my way across multiple zonas of Guatemala City to where the bus was. Within 20 minutes I was back at the hostel, explaining in my broken Spanish that I would take that ride after all. She must have taken pity on me, because when we got to Antigua, she would not take my money! She said she was going there anyway, and I should save my money. That's when I knew I had made the right choice tracking down a budget hostel in the middle of the night instead of checking in to the Holiday Inn.