My flight here was both more straightforward and and more stressful than I had expected. I anticipated delayed flights and missed connections (concerns that never actually materialized). I did not, however, expect to be interrogated about my travel plans from assorted US immigration officials. In Dublin, a rather austere looking woman with an Eastern European accent asked several redundant questions about my onward travel plans. Apparently, the plane ticket to Guatemala wasn't sufficiently compelling evidence of my intention not to stay in the US... Then, I get to Newark, where a very uncuddly immigration official starts to ask me 'why have you been to Jordan several times?' Me: 'I've only been to Jordan once.' Him: 'You have two entry stamps for Jordan'. Me 'Well, I visited Syria on the same trip'. (Before I even finish the sentence, I realize that this is not an answer that Homeland Security will find reassuring). Oddly, as soon as he spots the student visa for Cornell, he calms down and allows me to pass.
The third and final leg of the flight was from Texas to Guatemala. By this stage, I was pretty exhausted, and the prospect of a nice in-flight movie was very inviting. To my grave dismay, however, I learned that the only movie available was 'PS, I love you'. Believe me when I tell you that this a truly excreble movie. Horrific. It makes 'Love, Actually' look like a cinematic masterpiece. I actually feel like I (along with all of the other Irish people who contributed to its box office takings) should have to surrender our Irish passports. And as for Celia Ahern... hanging would be too good for her.
Ok, tengo que ir, but I promise that the next installment will include a bit more about Antigua, and some photos of my very pretty surroundings.
