yo no quiero salir

(30 septiembre)

Today was the day of the sixth month list in federal court land. Seems so far away!

Last night, we went out dancing at a place I hadn't been yet. Like “La Rumba,” where we usually go, but slightly “classier.” Like La Rumba, it was full of gringas dancing with Guatemaltecos. They actually didn't play enough salsa for me, though, since I was eager to “try out” what I've learned in class. I danced salsa (badly) for a while with Selvin, and then after that they started playing rap or hip hop or random latino musica. It was still a lot of fun, though, and I danced a lot.

When I got home, I just lay in bed for some time pondering whether I *really* had to leave October 23. I'm rather happy here, although I realize this doesn't exactly qualify as a real life. And I'm healthy! I eat 3 meals a day, dance salsa almost every day, and walk around a lot. I keep a pretty good schedule, and I actually wake up before my alarm clock most mornings, which has never happened to me before in my entire life. (And at 7 am, no less!) Originally, my firm had offered me a January start date as an alternative, and I started thinking about whether they might still let me switch. But alas, I suppose vacation has to end and my real life has to begin.

I'm actually really starting to like salsa dancing. I'm still not very good at it (nor will I ever be, I suppose, since I lack sufficient rhythm), but I enjoy it. Now that I know just the very basics, it's fun as long as I remember not to think too much. No, really. The great part about being the girl is you just get to follow. So you just sort of do the basic step, and then if the guy drops your hand, you spin. If he pulls your hands upward, you turn out into open position. And so on. Of course, this only works if the guy knows what he's doing, but there always seems to be a plethora of excellent male salsa dancers around.

I did sort of throw a mini-tantrum this morning at school. Tantrum isn't really the right word; more like gave a glare or two and asked nicely. The boys (i.e., the male teachers, all of whom are much younger than the female teachers – I have no idea why) have been making fun of me to the extent that i've stopped wanting to speak spanish around them. If I speak in Spanish, they make fun of my Spanish. If I speak in English, they give me shit for not talking Spanish. It's a no-win situation. It's not actually malicious; it's probably even flattering, but it does affect my confidence. So today I asked them to stop, because it's just gotten to the point of being ridiculous. (Claudia says it's a flattering thing; they pay me a lot of attention because I'm somewhat unusual in terms of the typical student. In summary: I'm a yuppie rather than a hippie. You wouldn't believe the number of people at my school who simply quit their job and moved to guatemala indefinitely to learn Spanish and travel. Sometimes I wish my life was more like that, but most of the time I remember that I actually like my life a lot.)