Entering Guatemala from Mexico and you are greeted with a confronting change: from the Western world to the developing world. Most noticeable is the change from luxury coaches to local buses reminiscent of Asia, complete with the cliched ingredients of overcramming, blaring music, baskets of vegetables and, or course, the odd feathered bird. Locally this form of transport is known, affectionately, as a chicken bus. In my case, my neighbour was a huge turkey. My ultimate destination was Quetzaltenango - mercifully referred to as Xela - a place to base myself and study the Spanish I would need for the rest of my journey.Once I had chosen my school, which was difficult because there are many all offering almost identical packages, it was time for an early night. Having your first day at school, at the age of 36, is an odd experience. Five hours of one-on-one language tuition, plus homework, can be pretty grueling. There's nowhere to hide.
I chose to live with a local family for the full immersion treatment and have been extremely lucky. A fantastic collection of Guatemalans of various ages - I'm still not sure of the exact relationships or all their names - who have made me incredibly welcome. Sharing three meals a day with non-English speakers certainly cranks up your learning.
The experience overall can be mentally and physically challenging; yet all the more rewarding as a result. I'll leave lying on beaches to those with the skin and figures to do it well.
No comments:
Post a Comment