Quetzaltenango (Xela), Guatemala
6 weeks... June Something
As a personal challenge, I decided to see if I was capable of communicating in another language. Just shy of grunts and groans, I actually somewhat succeeded in rudimentary communication... but "una cerveza mas, por favor" only gets you so far... compounded by the fact that after a few Moza's you tend to believe your spanish sounds better than it actually does! The Spanish language is especially non-sensical due to the random assignment of a Masculine or a Feminine to inanimate objects, creating an unnecessarily confused language by crossing logical gender boundaries... very similar to what my parents have routinely done to their cats. But, I think that this genderization of the language manifests itself in the sexuality and passion of the Spanish speaking culture... Maybe it also explains why every single person can shake their butts so well on the salsa dance floor, much to the embarrassment of any wall-flower white boy lurking on the edge of the dance floor!
I initially expected to stay in the mountain town of Xela for a week, but in the end I spent 4 weeks with live-in families and 2 more weeks in hostels. I was intrigued by the humbling challenge of learning a new language, meeting amazing locals and other travelers, and enjoying the natural beauty that surrounded the city. Even the tourists here were not really tourists. They were in Xela to learn language, volunteer, and combine this with having fun... not simply snap pictures, check a box, and get out of town. One Saturday I chose to volunteer my time with one of the leading organizations (lets use the term 'organize' quite loosely here) that had arranged a tree planting day... I paid my money to help pay for the trees, and then we walked an hour out into the hills to a farm that was in no more need of me to pay for their trees than they were in need of new trucks or extra workers. This farmer was definitely well off with lots of hired-hands that weren't too busy doing much. I must say I was not happy that my money and time hadn't been given to a farm or community that honestly needed the help. From what I gathered, the farms that really need the help weren't interested in planting trees in lieu of space for valuable crops, and the volunteer organization was still able to sell a success story that X amount of trees were donated and planted without necessarily telling the whole truth. What saved the day for me were the fresh radishes served with lime and salt that the farmer had given us... the quality and size of the produce was rather incredible all around Guatemala, and this farm was no exception.
At this point in my travels, I was at risk of overstaying my 3 month Guatemalan visa, so I entrusted my language school, one of the teacher's fathers, and one of his corrupt friends to bypass the system and stamp my passport for a fee. Unfortunately, the corrupt friend also proved to be an absoulute imbecile, and for a ridiculously high charge he came back with my passport stamped with something other than what I'd agreed to. This wouldn't have been so bad if he had provided me with stamps that made sense, but instead I was stuck with a passport that had obviously been tampered with. Fortunately, the corruptness of Guatemalan officials and their lack of attention to detail allowed me to later leave the country without issue.
Quetzeltenango. Central Park church.
Quetzeltenango. The famous meeting place in the central park.
Quetzeltenango. A view of Xela from the lookout on the edge of town.
Quetzeltenango. The crazy Minerva market near the bus terminal. I sat down at one of the local eateries in the market and watched the hustle and bustle of people earning their everyday life.
Quetzeltenango. The crazy chicken buses outside the market being loaded with people, more people, and everything else that might happen to fit in them or on them!
Quetzeltenango. Kid in the market with stained hands waiting for his next shoe shine customer.
Quetzeltenango. Our CBA language school and the infamous, although not exactly precision... ping pong table where I tended to spend a lot of my time.
Quetzeltenango. JP, Nery, & Oswaldo from the CBA Language School .
Quetzeltenango. CBA language school students... Tom, Tiffany, Kyle, Kelly, and I.
Quetzeltenango. More language school peeps... Johanna, some random dude, Lucy, and Tiffany
Quetzeltenango. Rachel, JP, Lucy, Nery, Kelly from the school!
Quetzeltenango. San Simon, the Saint... undoubtedly one of the strangest icons that I have ever seen in my life. Some people believe he is the real christ... lit by Vegas-style lighting, he is given alms of alcohol, while outside the venue there was a woman chanting with upturned eyelids while stirring the headless chicken into the fire and smoking a massive cigar... until she was interrupted by her cellphone which she promptly answered without taking the cigar out of her mouth.
Quetzeltenango. Hiking in the hills above Xela, we find an abandoned truck with Poison on it... Alison, Erin, Mark, and I.
Quetzeltenango. Anna Silvia and I acting surprised about something.
Quetzeltenango. Anna Silvia, some random dude, and the infamous Mercedes... some of the locals I had met during my first week in Xela. I should also give kudos to Samantha and her mom who own the popular King & Queen bar in Xela! Very cool people!
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