An Attitude of Gratitude

While most Americans were watching football and gorging on turkey and pumpkin pie, Michael, my daughter (Wednesday), and I spent our Thanksgiving hiking up a volcano in Guatemala. Michael had been once before, but Wednesday and I had no idea what to expect from the city of Antigua or the volcano experience, but let me tell you, it was life-changing on several levels. We couldn't have picked a more perfect place to celebrate a holiday of gratitude.

Upon arrival, our first impression was that my son, Max, had made the right choice in chickening out of this experience. He wasn't afraid of the volcano erupting on him or the laborious hike up it. After all, he is a scout and a basketball player, so he can literally run circles around the three of us. He's a little sinewy beanpole of lean muscle with the energy of a Jack Russell puppy. No, what turned him off of the trip was the idea of being in a third world country. He wasn't crazy about Mexico either time we went there, and he even freaked out when he and his sister and I wandered around Los Angeles on a visit to my father's. (And I'm talking Hollywood and Vine. It's not like we went window shopping in Compton.) Max doesn't like big cities, or slums, or urban areas, or homeless people, or anything that doesn't look like a setting for a Nickelodeon sit-com. He likes his world sanitary, with the paper strip across it that says, "For your protection."

My daughter, on the other hand, loves it all. The grittier and dirtier, the better. She wants to roll up her sleeves and kick off her shoes and walk barefoot through the muck of the world, testing the resilience of her immune system. Recently, she has even started to look the part of the nomadic wanderer. She sports unconventional (self-inflicted) piercings and has started cultivating a few dread locks adorned with wraps and beads and stuff, all of which I blame for her "random selection" to be searched as we boarded the return flight. Despite her appearance, she believes in blending in when traveling, as much as that's possible with dreads and piercings. Whenever I accidentally said, "thank you" or (oops) "grazie" (I've had four years of Latin, two years of Italian and about ten minutes of Spanish), she would correct me.

"Mom, oh my God, it's 'gracias, senor.' Seriously..."

Once in Guatemala, as we rode in the van toward Antigua, the three of us marveled out the windows at the shot-out looking capital of Guatemala City. These poor, poor people, we thought. Now, I know better.

Antigua turned out to be more than met the eye, since it looks like an old village with depressed one-story buildings all jammed together with cobblestone streets and crumbling sidewalks. However, upon entering any of its public dwellings, you are surprised to find charming and well decorated interiors, often with meticulously tended garden courtyards. Hidden paradises lay through every doorway.

The volcano hike was scheduled for Thanksgiving morning, and we left the hotel at 6:00 am, in the dark, in a van with eight other people from around Antigua. As we rode on for the next hour, I noticed the driver singing along to the radio, unabashedly and enthusiastically, and it occurred to me, how many Americans would have this attitude about having to haul a load of foreign tourists up a mountain at this ungodly hour on a Thursday morning?

At the base camp, we were immediately bombarded by schoolboys with hand-scraped walking sticks, repeating urgently "Stick for you? Stick for you?" and advertising a special of "Three for five!" Michael gave the boys three American five dollar bills, and we each received a walking stick to aid in our hike. While Michael went to pay our admission (ten dollars each), I slipped off to the restroom before the climb. I noticed the young entrepreneurs on the side of the building, each holding the five dollar bill stretched out in both hands and marveling at his good fortune. We had given them each the equivalent of 35 quetzales. And they had asked for only five total.

After laboring up the volcano for over an hour, stopping to catch our breath along the way (man, were we glad for the sticks--worth every penny!), we finally reached the charred top. It was the closest thing to being on another planet I've ever experienced. When the volcano, Pacaya, erupted two years ago, the top blew off, pouring out lava and burning up all life on the summit. Today this area is still largely volcanic rock, but life is already reemerging, as ferns, flowers, and small shrubs. In fact, as a sign of nature's resilience, a 400 year-old oak tree, covered in dozens of species of epiphytic plants, still stands and grows on the side of Pacaya, about halfway up the trail to the top. Surviving years of eruptions and destruction, the tree reminds us that "This too shall pass."

After climbing back down, we were greeted enthusiastically by the little entrepreneurs, who reached out and repeated, "Stick for me? Stick for me?" Laughing, we relinquished our walking sticks, which had served their purpose and wouldn't fit into our luggage anyway, allowing the boys to replenish their source of income.

When we returned to Antigua, we walked to a little courtyard Indian restaurant that advertised a "Thanksgiving Dinner." Honestly, it may have been the best Thanksgiving dinner of my life. Not only did the food surpass all expectation (pumpkin ginger soup, salad with goat cheese, pear and candied walnuts, turkey with fresh cranberries, Brussels sprouts, mashed potato with leeks, and even pumpkin pie!), but the ambiance simply nourished our souls. Hummingbirds flitted and darted back and forth between fuchsias and bright orange tropical flowers. The temperature was so ideal that it was unnoticeable, and the wide open blue sky overhead was completely clear of clouds or pollution except for a swirl of steam escaping the mouth of a distant volcano.

The next morning, our ride to the airport arrived promptly at 5:00 am, when a cheerful Donny met us outside the hotel and loaded our bags with a smile. On the way to Guatemala City, he informed us that we would beat a one hour delay in traffic by leaving this early. Thirty more minutes, and we would have been stuck. We asked him if he had felt the recent earthquake that rocked Guatemala and much of Mexico.

"Yes," he said, nodding his head and laughing. "But we like it when we feel the earth shake, when the volcanoes erupt. It makes us happy."

"Really?" Michael asked.

"Yes. You know why? Because it means that they are getting their energy out. It's a good thing. If everything is quiet for a long time, then we worry." Again, he laughed.

Donny went on to tell us stories of his childhood experiences with such things, revealing his simple, yet wise take on life. At one point, regarding getting up at this hour to drive into the city, he pointed out that it paid the bills.

"I have car payment, house payment, credit card payment..." At this he chuckled. "So, it is motivation, you know? I get up and come to work saying, 'This is the glory.'" When he spoke, I could hear the smile on his face, even from the backseat.

Donny delivered us safely at the airport, inviting us back to his lovely country whenever we got the chance to return. We tipped him well and thanked him. I noticed we were all a little happier after the ride than when we left the hotel. Interesting the effect people have on one another, isn't it?

Guatemala has been on my mind a lot since I got home. It was a truly marvelous place to spend Thanksgiving, not simply because it provided a beautiful adventure, but because it taught me so much about gratitude. I'm currently reading Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (yes, it's a mouthful), and he points out that today most of us in the "first world" have access to recipes and food beyond what the richest emperor several hundred years ago could have dined upon, and yet we aren't any happier for our relative wealth and opulence. Once our basic needs are met, we aren't happy, because we set our sights on something even higher, and no matter what material possessions we acquire, we are never satisfied. This may be why the "happiest" countries in the world, according to the happiness index, are not rich countries. The top three?

1. Costa Rica
2. Vietnam
3. Columbia
(Guatemala is #9. The U.S. is #105.)

Surprised? Don't be. They have the secret to living a happy life: being grateful for what one already has. I heard on the radio recently that the correlation between income and happiness is consistent, up to around $75,000 per year. As income goes up, so does happiness. After that, it starts to dip back downward. The conclusion? Once our basic needs are met, we can find happiness in not wanting more than that. Just accept the moment as it is. Recognize that our world is beautiful. Realize that we have all that we need to be happy right now, today.

That...is the glory. Thank you, Donny.

Oops, I mean, gracias.