Pausing Here and There

In advance, this post is not for the faint of heart (at least when it comes to vulgarity…excuse my language)

The evening begins with a very nice family man offering to break open the cap of the rum bottle we have brought because the pour spout doesn´t seem to work. Instance one of “There are no rules in Guatemala.” We drink it with sprite because we are fabulous.

The evening continues with smoke, explosions, firecrackers, bombas, confetti, the xela-ju mascot (a ram, lynni, a ram) posing with half naked cheerleaders whose high heels keep getting stuck in the field, sparklers being lit and thrown into the crowd and on the field, a foam hand making the peace sign which has a retractable finger giving it that famous Spanish doble sentido. We participate in a “wave”. Sarah comments that it looks like a scene out of Les Miserables–what with the smoke and red white and blue flags.

The man behind us is incredibly inebriated and seemingly ready to passout. However, once the aforementioned fire display occurs, marking the beginning of the game, he wakes up and begins to yell “vamos equipo” and other things, in a voice I will never forget.

The opposing team walks out and “hijos de punta” (son of a whore) is shouted more times in unison than I care to count.

Whenever the opposing team´s goalie is about to kick the ball to the other side, the crowd shrills, whistles, and once the kick is made, in an operatic unison the crowd chants “hueco,” literally, “faggot,” but the way they chant it makes it sound more like a singsong “faaaaaagoooottttt.” I don´t know what to do but laugh at this. Later, they yello “hueco sarote,” “faggot pig shit,” or “huevos elotes,” which we find out is the p.c. version of the former, literally translating to “eggs green beans.” There are several small children around us. I laugh hysterically, embarassed at the intense amount of profanity. The children laugh at me laughing.

When the forty or so riot police in black with shields and helmets come out onto the field at the end of the game we decide it is a good idea to leave a few minutes early. Later I hear there was a big fight. Xela-ju, the city futbol team, wins the game, but looses their chance at the semi-finals because they don´t win by 4 points. Honestly, I barely watched the game at all. Is this what is meant by the term “cultural immersion spanish acquisition?”

On Sunday, I woke up late, made pancakes, helped a friend work on a mural, came home, made a giant dinner (bread, salad, soup, lasagna, cookie cake) for the house, and fell asleep happy. Today: my first big goodbye and more spanish….always mas espanol.

Pictures start here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/67808065@N00/

and continue here: http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=19ltfkzb.wx174l3&Uy=fuewjq&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&UV=137967390788_14193811711

This entry was posted on Monday, December 11th, 2006 at 6:37 pm and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.