In school, you learn a lot of abstract concepts. You also learn about ancient civilizations that no longer exist and buildings in far away places that seem, well, very far away. And then, you sit there as a complacent child/teenager and wonder how it pertains to your own young life and existence. But I still remember when I was in my freshman year of high school, and I took Advanced Placement (A.P.) Art History. One of the periods I really enjoyed was learning about the Byzantine Empire and of course, the famous and gorgeous Hagia Sophia, built in AD 537, now still standing in modern day Istanbul, Turkey. At the time, the building was considered particularly impressive because people wrote that it changed the history of architecture forever. It had a large dome and extremely intricate mosaics that were considered a feat at that time in both engineering and artistry. At that time when I learned about the Hagia Sophia, at ages 14-15, I still hadn’t left the country. I didn’t have a passport. I had no idea when I would ever leave the country, and I really wasn’t sure when, if ever, I’d go to Turkey to see this spectacular mosque. So when I finally did make my first trip to Turkey in 2011 when I was 25 years old, I was giddy with glee. When I visited the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque, I was just in awe. I walked around feeling like a little child, eyes wide with wonder at all this architectural beauty. I didn’t even care that as a woman, I had to cover my head with a scarf to get in — none of that mattered to me. I felt so lucky, so privileged, to finally see these famous, incredible feats of architecture in real life after learning about them in school years ago. What was once so obscure, so foreign, and so far away, was something that I was literally standing in the middle of. If only all of learning about history could feel like that!

This trip, we’re not seeing any ancient cities or monumental feats of architecture. Unfortunately, Tikal, the ancient Maya “city” still standing in Guatemala, is too far away by car from Guatemala City, where we are based, and would have been more efficient as a flight. But what we have been exposed to is a lot of Maya influenced architecture. From the moment you step out of the Guatemala City airport, you see hints of Maya sculpture and architecture everywhere, even on basic business buildings and banks. Maya glyphs are on random walls that you pass as you walk through the city. If you are in certain small towns, like along Lake Atitlan or even Antigua, when you listen closely, you may even hear people conversing not in Spanish, but in Kaqchikel and Ixil, native Mayan languages.

It’s been said that the Mayans were recognized as the first people to use chocolate. They were the first civilization to cultivate cacao beans and create a frothy drink from them; it was considered a “food of the gods,” a special occasion drink like a fine, aged wine or champagne would be today. Early records of Maya marriages in Guatemala indicate that in some regions, a woman would have to make the cacao and prove that she could make it with the proper froth on top. And chocolate shows up in lots of Guatemalan cooking. It’s mixed with meats and then stuffed in tamales and variations of tamales, it’s used in mole de platano, which is stuffed sweet, fried plantains in a chocolate-based sauce, and it’s also used in various meat stews.

Before planning this trip, I knew very little about Guatemalan cuisine. But given its geography, it makes sense that it would be a bit of a mash-up of Mexican, surrounding Central American (there are lots of tortillas, pupusas, and tamales here!), and ancient Maya cuisine. So far on this trip, we’ve already had a couple of heavily Maya influenced Guatemalan dishes. At our first dinner last night, we had hilachas, which is a shredded beef stew cooked in a tomato and tomatillo based sauce. And for a morning snack at the local mercado earlier today, we enjoyed a bowl of pepian, which is considered the national dish of Guatemala: it’s a rich stew, usually with chicken as its base, made with a mix of red and black chilies, sesame seeds, cilantro, tomatoes, and tomatillos, all individually roasted to build a complex flavor profile and then blended into a thick, deep brown colored stew. We were told that we know it’s a legitimate pepian if the stew comes out with a brown color. Even though there’s technically no chocolate in this stew, when we sat down and enjoyed it at a market stall, accompanied with rice and freshly handmade, thick tortillas (tortillas are not made with a press here the way they typically are in Mexico; they are fully hand formed and patted down!), it tasted like chocolate was there. The flavor was likely coming from the roasted chilies; it reminded me of some of the delicious moles we’ve savored in Mexico and in the Bronx. And at the hotel tonight, we were able to try a small serving of rellenitos de platano, which is a dish of ripe plantains stuffed with black beans, then covered in sugar; it’s supposed to be one of the most popular desserts in Guatemala. It appears that it’s not just East and Southeast Asians who use beans (protein!) in desserts!

The ancient cities of Tikal and Chichen Itza may no longer exist. But their existence still murmurs on through their carvings, artwork, and culinary influences. It’s definitely different than what we are used to eating and what we had previously been exposed to. All of this — from seeing Maya glyphs to thinking about ancient Maya cities to tasting Maya influenced cuisine — it makes me wonder how we can make history education more approachable, more palpable, more relatable, so it doesn’t seem like it’s this far away, unrelated period of time from us today.

Last year, we went to El Salvador for an extended Memorial Day weekend. This Memorial Day weekend, we are visiting its northwestern Central American neighbor, Guatemala. Central American countries like El Salvador and Guatemala are often in American news media because of migrants (coming into the U.S.), crime, civil unrest, and guns. This then makes Americans believe that these countries are unsafe and not “worth” traveling to. The sad thing about that, though, is that the majority of the guns that exist in countries like Guatemala are actually legally imported and supplied by the U.S. It’s almost like the U.S. is encouraging violence and unrest in these countries. There’s a lot to unpack there that I don’t have the desire to get into here (and bluntly, I clearly don’t have the expertise to discuss). I don’t feel that bothered by these things in the news, though, because I also remember and know how the U.S. is portrayed outside the U.S. Other countries have issued travel advisories to their own citizens that travel to the U.S. is unsafe. Many people living abroad I knew and was connected to during the first Trump administration said that they refused to travel to the U.S. during his first term because of politics and his constant spewing of racist, bigoted hatred; I can empathize with this (plus, it’s not like the U.S. is the only place to travel to; the rest of the entire world is there for you to visit if you so wish!). It’s common to be fearful of the U.S. as a non-American outside the country when all you hear about are the mass shootings, especially at schools, the unchecked ownership of guns, and the general acceptance of assault weapons for personal ownership. I’ve read travel forums of people voicing concerns of U.S. travel, and some even say they worry about leaving their hotel and just randomly getting shot on the street in broad daylight. I’m sure plenty of non-Americans think the U.S. is just as unsafe as the average ignorant American thinks that El Salvador or Guatemala are unsafe.

So, I don’t really get fazed when people question why we go to El Salvador or Guatemala, or ask me if I think it’s safe enough. We got similar questions and comments when we went to Colombia for Memorial Day weekend 2019. Today, just six years later, all I seem to hear about are family trips, bachelor and bachelorette parties, and guy friend groups’ golf outings to various cities across Colombia. It’s not like we’re going to Russia, Sudan, or Syria right now. Some of my friends know better now than to ask me annoying questions about safety of a country after a trip has already been booked (also, think about it this way: if we knew a place really was in a war zone, do they think we’d actually be stupid enough to book a trip there?!); instead, they respond to my sharing that I’m going to said country with no words at all, a simple “OK,” or a thumb’s up emoji (if on text). I think I actually prefer it that way.

Since the pandemic “ended,” American tourists have been flooding popular tourism destinations like Japan, France, and Italy. Japan has reportedly gotten so overwhelmed by the volume of tourists coming in and have implemented surcharges for some tourist sites for international travelers. I still remember when we visited northern Italy in November 2017, a season that is considered “low season.” We started in Milan, went to Bologna and Modena, then ended our Thanksgiving week in Venice. Milan was fun. I especially loved Bologna (it was so delicious!). Modena was a day trip to have a sumptuous midday meal at the famous Osteria Francescana. But Venice, by far, was one of the most miserable experiences for me as a tourist, because it was just so crowded. I remember walking in the main square and feeling like a sardine because that was how packed it was — during low season. I recognize it sounds bratty and overly privileged for me to complain about the volume of tourists in a popular tourist destination when I myself was a tourist there, but I suppose the reason I thought about this in the context of Guatemala or El Salvador travel is that it’s refreshing to visit places that are slightly off the beaten path, where I know that I won’t be herded like goats, shoulder to shoulder, with other visitors, where I feel like I can have some breathing space and not be taking the exact same pictures as everyone else.

There is a lot to see in the world. I won’t live long enough to visit every inch (or centimeter) of the world, but it’s an adventure to see as much as I possibly can of it and try to breathe it all in. It’s also fun to taste as much of it as possible and see how different cultures use the same or similar ingredients or produce.