Quetzaltenango

I decided to work on my spanish a bit as Guatemala is the cheapest (and probably the best place) to learn. Headed to the town of Quetzaltenango ( Xela for short), which is solely utilized by gringos studying Spanish, this is good as even the gringos try and speak Spanish. Xela is a very normal Guatemalan town, it’s a touch on the big side but it’s got nothing really special, and the people are decidedly “normal”, perfect!

I usually did a few hours in the morning then something “fun” of some description in the afternoon. The first was watching a local football game. I didn’t really know what to expect as I headed to the stadium in a downpour like I haven’t seen in all my travels. We had to wear medical face masks due to the phobia over the swine flu, pretty amusing that you have to wear them in a stadium, what about bars, buses etc I don’t agree with doing it anywhere but some consistency please hypercondriacts.

Anyway there weren’t many people there, maybe something to do with the waterfall that was cascading down the concrete stairs of the stadium. Just before the match began the cavalry rode in. Firstly the drummers, 3 of them with massive, loud drums, a group of trumpeters followed and the noise began, that’s more like it. The rain never let up and neither did the supporters; the songs were pretty fantastic, my favorite translates roughly like this “HOOOOMOOOOOOO, the son the grand, WHORE, WHORE, WHORE etc” its rolls on and on pretty much the same. Really did enjoy seeing grandpa out with the grandkids screaming Hueco (homo) and Puta (roughly whore) at the opposition, ha-ha classic. Xela ended up scoring late in the game, and shit went wild for a bit, nearly got burned numerous times as rockets and roman candles flew over my shoulder (everyone brings them into the ground and lets them go at random), I think they aim at the opposition thru the gringo that way if they miss one they get the other target. It might have been rubber, but pretty sure I saw a chicken carcass flying around the crowd.

Other days I just got hammered in the afternoon, with two teachers Heber and Byron. Got a pretty out of the control on the first night out with the teachers, ended up breaking my belt in the bar (I really have no idea how) and instead of going home like a normal person just took my pants off and continued dancing. The worst part was most of the Guatemalan’s didn’t know my belt broke, they just thought I was a retard (whether the thought this before or after the event I am not sure).

Worst still was the next morning I had signed up for a hike! Pure pain and seeing as I had made a point of saying I would be there, I suffered through it. The mountain air cleared the chronic thumping in my head but still was no substitute for a bed.

One day we went to the town with the oldest church in Central America, not like that interests me in the least! But after that went to a place that makes homebrew liquors. This is more like it, they use apples, pears, berries etc, leave it in a big barrel and let it ferment, it’s awesome and dirt cheap. In the roof of the building was an old dude making fabric on a hand loom. Pretty incredible, he works all day for 7 dollars (that’s good compared to most labourers in Guatemala). Mario had lived in the USA for a while until diabetes forced him back to Guatemala. He spoke pretty good English and had some cracking stories.

Lived in a home stay the entire time in Xela, before was a little bit concerned that I’d be in a house with 30 people eating egg and beans every meal. Quite the contrary, 3 girls who run liquor store, you couldn’t make this shit up!. The husband has passed away, I didn’t ask how but it seems to be pretty common round here, what the war didn’t take the gangs have picked off. Anyway Luecke would shake her head the first few times I came in hammered (my 2 and 3^rd nights in Xela) but then would wait for the girls to go to bed and crack into a bottle of rum. I mean I like a drink but I deliberately went to bed early a few times to avoid the 80%rum 20% Pepsi mixes that were getting brewed for me! Needless to say my homework suffered but my Spanish improved! Getting drunk and hacking away with the locals is the best way of learning any language I now strongly believe! I did make the mistake of showing them my photo´s one night (they asked) and then had to look through the entire family album, and polished off about 5 bottles of "teca", nasty!

Should also mention they like all Guatemalans were outstandingly nice and friendly people, and made me wicked fat with far too much good food! Guatemala does a mean steak, just as well because they certainly cut down a fair bit of virgin rain forest to grow it. Couldn’t imagine much worse than cutting down a rainforest to make a shitty steak.

Another Friday and more bad behavior! Started by riding a bike around in the bar, the locals enjoyed it until I crashed into a table and spilt more than a few things. We then “acquired” a drink bucket and used it as a helmet. Gringos can get away with a lot here, you just pay for it. Dancing in the club with a bucket helmet and no pants (belt broke again! Honestly same belt made a new hole in it and it tore).

Went to the football again, but day games are a lot more tame, the crowd rarely gets into the levels of abuse seen at night games, dissapointing!

Went out to a local bar with a few of the teachers for “the football” got beyond hammered which was fortunate because at one stage the bartender reached over the bar and grabbed a pistol then dashed outside. I subtlety moved behind the fattest person I could find and waited for the noise, but no, false alarm. Nothing like an imminent gun battle to get the pulse going.

I thought it was over when I got home, but Luecke snippered me in the doorway with a bottle of “Quetzalteca”! that’s a long way of writing turps! To make matters worse Guatemala and Honduras received the worst earthquake they have had in a number of years. It was 7.1 at the centre. Now I can’t explain the lack of fun you experience when you wake up utterly smashed and think the room is moving cause your plastered. You stand up to go the bathroom cause you know you need to throw up to make this stop, but you can’t stand, you keep falling. Man I’m drunk, you think, eventually the shaking stops and you crawl back into bed. The next day I looked round guiltily at the breakfast table hoping nobody heard the banging and crashing I made. Then they asked if I heard the earthquake, I didn’t know the word for earthquake so immediately assumed it was over the racket I made (they looked at me funny, as apologizing for a earthquake is pretty high on the stupid scale).

Headed out to the village of Zunil one evening and chanced across St Simon. A rather unusual creation used for getting money out of the locals for religious uses. St Simon is apparently a former Mayan god but the Mayans chose St Simon to represent him due to his likeness and the fact Christians are very tolerant and understanding people of other religions. Either way it’s an utter crock of shit. Simon is a f$%kn piece of wood, OK. Anyway the locals change Simon’s clothes every 2 days, and people who visit him put cigarettes in his mouth, poor booze down his neck, etc. I find it hilarious but nobody else it laughing they all take it very seriously.