Xela Spanish Class (day 4)

Today for some reason spanish class kicked my ass. I was sailing the first couple days, picking up a lot, quick. I don’t know if it’s the bad nights sleep compounding, or the mixture of verb tenses, either way, I was drained. When we got back “home” Christina was whipping up the typical huge lunch and when she asked how I was doing, I started to complain about how drained I was and how hard a day I had. Later that day Amie reminded me that Christina works from 6am to 8pm, 7 days a week, with 5 days off a year. I am in no position to be complaining about a hard day! All of us, Amie, myself and Adam, have really been confronted head on with how easy we have it in the US, how easy all Americans have it. In the states most people have to make the decision “what do I want to do with my life.” People even complain about how difficult it is to decide what they want to do. In Guatemala, very few people have the opportunity to choose to do anything other than carry wood up the hill in a bundle strapped to their head.

Anyway, after school I went on a quest to find someone who could weld aluminium and left amie with adam at the café with free wireless internet. My first stop was steel only, but I didn’t mind making the stop because the guard dog, Duke, was the nicest looking boxer I have ever scene! So ferocious until you said his name… then all he could do was wiggle just like candy does. Made me miss candy lots…

My second stop was to an auto restorer/ junk yard. There the owner was restoring a ’55 Cadillac and a 1935 Harley in the middle of muddy ol dirt yard. Anyway, $10 got my broken (in two places) bashplate back together.

We met adam at Salon Tecun, the oldest bar in Guatemala. I was suffering from really bad gas (although diarrhea is a thing of the past! For now at least) and rather than stink up our corner of the bar, I thought I’d be a gentleman and go outside for some air. There were a bunch of picnic type tables on the street with people drinking and making merry. While standing aside, breaking wind, a guy about my size (big for guate) approached me and stood right next to me—there was no one in my vicinity previously. He was obviously Guatemalan, but spoke in decent English. The dialogue went something like this:

Him: I have a problem
Me: Ok.
Him: I have no money
Me: That’s a problem
Him: *starting to lean against me as if either looking for balance or about to push a gun or knife in my side, then he yells* I have no F—king money!
Me: ???
Him: I have a body guard.
Me: ???
Him: I have a f—king body guard!!!
Me: ???... Tengo mal de estomago. ( I have a bad stomach in Spanish) *then I let out a really loud fart, and held my stomach and walked back into the bar hastily as if I was in dire need of the bathroom*

I have no idea what had just transpired, but when we got up to leave about 30 minutes later, he was no where to be found.

Fix it good

Mas Cerveza

El Guapo: the phantom