Arriving in Guatemala

Oct 27

I rode in from the airport with another student, Dominick.  He was a fiftyish guy from in Hong Kong who has been running businesses in the states for some time.  We had a lot to agree on.  We talked about culture and economics and politics.  But not in Spanish.  Hopefully I will get to that point.  When I got to the house I met Olga, her mom Rebecca, and her sister Irma.  For a while I thought Irma was her daughter.  She seems like a giggly teenager, but, she is 30 and has 4 kids.  With the family, I talked about hair, and my house and the weather and food.  And that was a stretch.  Time to hit the books again.

My bedroom has somewhat more ambiance than a prison cell and perhaps another foot in length.  The walls and floor are painted.  However, I get the sense that this room was a garage or storage area that was absorbed into the house.  It has a distinct cement smell I don’t detect in the rest of the house.  They offered to let me use the other bedroom upstairs in a few days if I prefer.  It currently has a young woman in it who was born and raised in Montreal.  However, I have been advised by the young Brit, Richard, not to refer to her as Canadian in her presence.  It is important to her that she is French.  I guess one just can’t escape the French while traveling.