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.)

esta semana

Okay, it's been forever since I wrote. I've been really busy.

On Tuesday, I went to my first salsa lesson with two of the Canadian girls. We ended up going ahead and buying 5 lessons (it's cheaper that way . . . about $3 per lesson). After our lesson, I ended up hanging out with our teacher for awhile and talking. He doesn't speak that much English, so it's a good incentive to speak in Spanish. (He teaches salsa and teaches at the school. Several of the teachers at the school don't speak much English – or any). I guess I spent the rest of the night studying on Tuesday because my teacher made me learn something like 100 irregular verbs on Monday and Tuesday and write almost 200 sentences!

On Wednesday, it was the birthday of three students and one of the teachers, so we had a big party. I was out really late – like 1:30 or something. It was so much fun, though. Let's see...the weirdest thing that happened during that night was that this older dude (Guatemalan) came up to me and told me 'I am leaving, but you are so beautiful.' (In English). That in and of itself isn't that weird, but later in the evening this girl walks up to me and starts speaking to me in Spanish. I asked her to slow down, and she slowed down to the point of, I think, making fun of me, and then took me over to meet the same guy – who, as it turned out, was her brother. Maybe it's just me, but attempting to pick up girls for your brother seems somewhat strange to me.

Yesterday, in the afternoon, we made chocolate. In the morning, we toasted the peeled the cacao (?) beans (?). Who knew you had to peel chocolate? Then, in the afternoon, we went to this place to grind the beans and mix it with azucar and then powder it. I don't have any pictures from that because they didn't allow pictures. Except, a cat started meowing, and I asked the girl, 'gato?' (This place is attached to these people's house, as many businesses are in Xela). Anyway, the girl (I say girl, but she's older than me) says 'si,' and hands me a gato! I was like, uh, okay. I mean, I like cats, so it was fine, and it was a sweet cat. But then she's like, 'stay there' and she wants to take a picture of me and the cat. Go figure. Then she asked me to put down the cat and pretend like I was grinding chocolate so that she could take a picture of that. Of course, none of this was for my camera. I think maybe it was for their advertising or something? Who knows—the whole interaction was bizarre.

Anyway, all I can say about making chocolate (at least that part of it) is that is very, very far from sanitary. They don't clean the machines. Just put more and more chocolate in it. Not to mention she had me touching the machine after touching the cat. And they use their hands to actually mix the chocolate and sugar (although they do wash their hands before mixing it, thank goodness).

After that, we returned to school where we made chocolate bars (some people made shapes, like hearts or letters) and also made a chocolate drink, to which we added ice cream and kahlua. (You'd be thrilled, Mom). I don't love the chocolate—I think maybe we burned some of it in the morning, which is very easy to do, apparently. It's okay. Martin (the kid in mi casa) likes it, though.

I also had my second salsa lesson yesterday, which was even more difficult. Plus, Luis had me dancing with a guy who was literally about 4 feet tall and about 12 years old. He was a good dancer, but it's really hard when I'm doing spins and stuff. Guys in Guatemala are so short. Till (the German guy) is like 5'10” or so, and I was teasing him that in Guatemala, he's ridiculously tall. My teacher is about my height, and she is really, really tall for a woman in Guatemala. I'd say most women don't clear 5 feet. Sarah, the German girl, is probably 5'9” or 5'10” with long, long blond hair and blue eyes—so of course the Guatemalan men are just completely fascinated with her.

Anyway, tonight's the graduation party, and SEVEN students are leaving. I think that leaves 9 students next week, plus we're getting two new ones. I'm really sad about all the students that are leaving, though. They're my faves. At least Sarah will still be in Xela – just not at school anymore.

yo necesito aprender bailar salsa

It seems that I am going to have to learn to salsa dance, as it is practically a requirement of spending time in Xela.

On Friday nights, the school hosts a little party for all the students, and particularly in recognition of those students whose last day it is. Last night that was actually just my two friends, who were only here for a week.

Anyway, we had to make hot dogs in groups (yeah, I really don't understand that either). After food, there was music and dancing. One of the teachers is also a salsa instructor, and he was dancing up a storm. At 11, when we must vacate the school, a group of students and teachers (including myself) headed out to a bar/dance club. Hanging out with the teachers is a lot of fun. For the most part, they're around my age, and many of them are university students. One was studying to be a psychologist, another is a semester away from having a degree in mechanical engineering.

At first, I only danced when they played American music, but the salsa dance instructor convinced me to dance to a latin american song. i warned him I was a terrible dancer, but he didn't believe me until after he danced with me for a song! Right after we danced, it was time to go, as bars can legally only stay open until 1, apparently. So we headed to the "after party," which was a dance club like thing about a block away. Apparently that just means they paid off the police to stay open later. This place was crazy. It used to be a movie theater, and now the space between the seats and the screen is a big cement dance floor. Meanwhile, they projected random (mostly American rap) music videos (sans sound) on the screen. Some people were just sitting in the seats drinking cerveza and watching people dance. I danced with two guys (both salsa instructors, but we didn't dance salsa). Then, Luis, who is the teacher who is almost a mechanical engineer and not a salsa instructor, tried to show me the basic salsa steps. He was actually pretty patient, so I sorta/kinda got the most incredibly basic steps down.

It was a lot of fun, but I think maybe I'll try taking some lessons. I'm scared to take lessons because it's so difficult for me to learn steps (coordination, bah!), but I think it might be better than having to sit out salsa dancing all the time.

Today I am feeling very proud of myself for successfully completing two transactions without much confusion. First, I got my hair cut! Yay. The salon, which had been closed yesterday, was open today. Apparently some things are the same everywhere -- the two guys in the salon were flamingly gay. Then, I bought Q200 more minutes for my cell phone, as calling America apparently zaps them pretty quickly (although not as quickly as you might imagine).

Now I am in the internet cafe and am about to do some homework, as I am hoping to go hiking with the canadians tomorrow.