Latin American Johnslaught - #6, Learning Spanish, Xela/Quetzaltenango with trips to San Pedro and Tilapi, Guatemala.

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'Put me 47m under the water with no direct ascent and I'm sound as a pound, but this is something else entirely.'
My first email home after one day in Xela. May 2011

It did not start well. I was to meet Oscar, co-owner of Educacion Para Todos, at the school where my family would pick me up to lead me to my Fate. Firstly, the guy driving the shuttle from Lake Atitlan to Xela had not heard of my the school and knew not where it was. I had lost the address so we had to stop off at an Internet cafe (the slowest in Xela). Address hastily scribbled down, I ran back to van, waving the address above my head like a lunatic. The van man still was none the wiser but after a couple of educated guesses, managed to find the place. I gave him twenty quetzales for a beer. Smiley Oscar greeted me and I handed over my hard earned for six weeks of hardcore one on one Spanish study and Authentic Home Stay action which weighed in at 130 USD a week. In Strong British Pounds, that's just over 50p. Shortly after, my 'dad', Francisco picked me up and we set off together to the family abode. We had a diverting conversation which I couldn't understand because I hadn't started actually learning Spanish by this point (this, by the way, is a theme I shall be going back to quite a lot. There's a bit about a Birthday party coming up and a Japanese spy so hang in there). I was at the top when I realised that Francisco had been trying to tell me that we had to go up a sharp hill where his house was situated. He opened the door and I walked through to a courtyard jam packed with Guatemaltecos. There were hundreds of them. It was Francisco's grandson's ninth Birthday and Xela was invited. Once I had performed a bag plonk in what was to be my bedroom, I was introduced to the family. Miriam, the mother, asked if I spoke any Spanish and winced at my response - she was extremely busy. I was then introduced to fellow student Takumi, a Japanese chap who was also residing with the family. Unfortunately I could no more hear what he was saying than understand it. Takumi had been in Xela for 12 weeks, had studied Spanish for three years and steadfastly refused to speak anything but mumbling, heavily Japanese accented Spanish. I stood around for a bit willing the ground to open up and kill me. I decided to hide in my room 'sorting myself out' until the party had finished. Thankfully, it being a children's party, it finished pretty soon after I had got there, it being evening at this point.

Timidly I tiptoed downstairs, hating myself for this stupid idea and wondering how quickly it would take me to get drunk in this stupid town... The core family were there and they set about talking to me a lot, seemingly not taking in to account that I would have little idea of what they were talking about until at least the Monday after the weekend. Currently, it was Saturday.

The next day, after breakfast, I had designs of escaping the family in order to cower in an Internet cafe and send a few emails etc. Takumi had different ideas and solemnly suggested we go to the shopping mall and have a general wander around. It was a hellish few hours because Takumi insisted on asking me A LOT of questions. I couldn't work out whether he was trying to get me to practice the Spanish I had not had one lesson towards learning or whether he was practicing asking the most drawn out, yet entirely pointless, questions he could think of. I was later to discover he moonlighted as a potentially evil spy so I can only assume this was some kind of interrogation technique.

This seems like as good a time as any to mention the dogs of Casa de Francisco. There are three of them. One is a big German Shepherd who, for no reason that have been able to discern, is 'loco'. Then there is Rocky, another German Shepherd who, at four months old, is larger than a small horse but - it pains me to say - very endearing in his temperament. Despite his size, you can say 'boo' with only a slight raise in voice and Rocky will run away and hide before bounding back looking all confused. Once tried to mount Takumi which was pretty hilarious. Thirdly, there is Vicky which is a skittish black spaniel type thing. Appearance-wise, she reminds me of Christian's sister's dog which in turn reminds me of the man himself. Imagine my secret joy when, at most meal times, falls asleep under the table only to begin loudly snoring. All very nice but at night, the dogs like to bark at nothing for no reason and that in itself took some getting used to. Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark............ BARKBARKBARKBARKBARKBARK.....Bark............. bark..... you get the idea.

My typical weekday is as follows. Wake up, potentially have a shower. Have breakfast which usually consists of cornflakes (con leche de soya loving purchased by my good self) and fruit. Then me and Takumi walk painfully slowly to school. After five hours of Spanish grammar and conversation, it's home for lunch which could be just about anything (examples include mash potato and broccoli, stew, rice and tomato sauce). Then I might go for an explore before ending up in an Internet cafe where I stay for a while, contacting people and playing computer games. Then it's off to a cafe for a spot of Pointed Public Study (very important... to other travellers it says, "I'm a tourist but I'm, like, studying the language so do one."). A trot home precedes waiting for dinner to be served which is usually seconds of lunch. After dinner, perhap a game of Scrabble (in Spanish. Once I drew a win with Francisco. John enthusiasts will tell you I am horrible at Scrabble at the best of times.) before retiring to bed where I greedily and guiltily devour an English language novel before sleep temporarily claims me until the dogs (the dogs!) begin barking like twats.

Weekends were looking to be rather drab. Because he is a Spy and knows everything about everyone, Takumi never goes out in the evenings, ever, presumably because he is either spying or researching some kind of cruel mind device. Thankfully, I was blessed with the arrival of bolshy American student, known here as Gringa Typico (GT). GT is 19 and decided to volunteer in Guatemala during her summer break. We both experienced similarly formulaeic yet comforting weekday structures and were both glad to have someone to go out drinking with. Xela is city of hidden charms so finding a decent place to go out can be tricky at first. Luckily we have been able to enjoy a good few truly bizarre evenings, mixing with locals and travellers alike (beware the Peace Core). Here's an example of one such night... GT and I sat, feeling a bit despondent at Xela's lack of obvious night time charm and because GT always has a face like a slapped arse. GT pounds gin y tonicas and I tanned off a bunch of Cuba Libras. The nearby group of three Guatemalteco lads strike up a conversation. One of them is very nice and I have a good old chat with him before he does the decent thing and a) falls off his chair and b) offers me a drink to make up for it. They'd bought a bottle of rum to share so plenty to go round. Using senses, honed over many years, I decided the other two are sex pests and make sure I kept an eye on GT who they are both chatting away to. We decided to move bars and go to a place called Ich Student which has Union Jack emblems everywhere. It is here that things got a tad funky. Seeing me as a threat, Sex Pest 1 introduced me to four entirely unsuitable ladies and leaves me to it. I had10 minutes of full on cringe-worthy, horribly embarrassing chat with said ladies. Meanwhile, GT wass necking Sex Pest 1. Sex Pest 2 looks on. I have no idea what the nice chap was doing at this point. Probably something wholesome. Anyway, Sex Pest 1 stopped kissing GT to engage in Chat and whilst doing so, GT was alarmed to find that Sex Pest 2 was reaching for her hand under the table whilst exchanging meaningful looks with Sex Pest 1. Thankfully, it was at this point that I had made my excuses to the ladies and was strutting past. We both head downstairs to look for the toilets and, other than to get my jumper which I had left with Pests 1 and 2 and the nice chap, we didn't go back, preferring to run, cringing, in to the night...

It is school policy that students change teachers every week. However, for some reason, I mostly sat with Oscar. This I did not mind for Oscar is a funny, flamboyant chap with lots of stories and a healthy appetite for conversations about prostitution, drugs, violence, drinking, girls and everything else that is essentially good in the world. Oscar pointed at the news paper one day. See here, he says, beaming. Just East from Flores, 26 people murdered. He laughs as he points out that these were mafia killings and that no 'civilians' came to harm. The 26 were, however, decapitated and a warning to the other gang was written in their blood outside the building. Ha ha ha ha. But this is part of Guatemala. Part of Guatemala is also the 36 years of civil way that country suffered. From 1960 to 1996 the people versus the government for a better, fairer Guatemala. I'll stop there because I am unsure of exact names, places and dates and thus would rather not carry on ranting about things I am none to sure about

Four weeks came and went and I began to get itchy feet. This was not only because of the horrid bug things that took up residence in my bed. They are known as pulgas and, according to Oscar are 'part of la Vida Guatemala' he says with a smile. Thankfully, one of my Mexico friends was in the area, back at Lake Atitlan so I went back to seen him for a weekend.

The weekend was a huge success and placed extra seeds of feet itchiness within my well worn socks. Was eight weeks really necessary?

By the time I returned, happy and tired, a new student had arrived. Anja Popp is English with a touch of German and is a deeply hilarious and upbeat lass. She was exactly what the doctor ordered and as my Spanish practice dropped sharply my happiness levels went through the roof. If nothing else she reminded me to lighten up (she successfully survived day long barrages of cynism, blasted at her by my own good self). The first weekend out was, coincidentally, GT's Last Weekend in Xela. Unfortunately, because of GT's nasty habit of pouting like a doped out trout and not saying anything, she had no friends and so it fell to me and my bubbly new friend, Anja, to accompany her. I saw that this would not end well. GT behaved like a spoilt bitch and Anja bated her in to a fight and thus, GT and I a no longer talking. Would that Anja would have got to Xela a bit earlier!

Anja wanted to explore at the weekends. As casually as possible, I suggest that the, erm, Lake was pretty fun and that we could go there. We did and, after talking to Ben for a while about his plans, decided to naff off school and go travelling with Ben instead. We intend on breezing through Honduras to Nicuragua to a hostal in the tree tops, like a booze Lothlorian, no doubt. I really MUST dash as I am writing this and bearing mind I have to get the chicken bus to San Pedro where I will prepare for the final week or two of what has been a truly remarkable Guatemalteco Experience. Well done, Guatemala. You nearly beat Philippines...

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Photos

Where everyone goes for drinks though it's a bit whack
Better places elsewhere for that kind of thing

Parque Central, Xela
Looking all Twin Peaks-is and excellent.

The view at the beginning of my daily walks to school
Xela

Rocky
4 months old and the size of a horse. I love and hate him.

Parque Japan
Built to say 'thaaaaaanks' for Japan's assistance in sorting out Xela's water supply

Takumi creeps...
...'moving up slowly...'