Needing a change of scenery…Guatemala anyone?

I t really doesn’t. Yesterday what we were expecting to be a pretty docile day finished with our little legs tired from having climbed a volcano! Not quite sure what I expected the volcano climb to be like when my Spanish teacher told me about the trip, though if I had been told that it involved a 3 and half km trek uphill through thick forest and “volcanoness” me being the feeble soul that I am probably would have passed on the opportunity, which although my precious new Ugg boots would still be in one piece (I told you I didn’t know what to expect) I would have missed out on maybe the best experience we’ve had since being away!

We’ve seen some really beautiful views and sights, countless throughout Asia and even the Aussie sky at night deserves a special mention but nothing can compare to what it was like to stand at the top of a Volcano, level with the clouds at sunset and look down at the rest of the world. I wish I had the words to describe how phenomenal it all was without sounding too over the top, but if an artist ever painted what we saw they’d be criticised for lack of subtlety!

The Volcano was called Pacaya and due to literally no health and safety in Guatemala we were able to walk right up to where the lava was and toast marshmallows. This part of the excursion traditionally lasts quite a bit longer due to the novelty of the experience but unfortunately we had to make a sharp exit due to lava suddenly spewing out the sides! The walks up and down were equally tough. The climb up was relentlessly steep and the paths very narrow, which with the aid of the stick I reluctantly brought at the start I could just about manage. To get down was a whole different struggle as by that time it was pitch black and my stick came in useful in the same way I imagine a blind person’s would! We had torches to help find our way, but did you know there’s a lot on the ground to trip over in forests?!

Besides from conquering volcanoes I’ve also started my Spanish lessons and to be quite honest I may as well be Senorita Spaniard- they’re great! The daily classes are 4hour private tutorials and my tutor is a lovely lady called Sylvia who, although she doesn’t speak a word of English, I seem to have built quite a good rapport with! Excited as I am about how far I’ve come along in these past 3days, I’ve decided to do another week next week but with hardcore 6 hour long classes, I’m hoping Sylvia’s feeling said rapport…

Whilst on a bit of a roll with doing new things, we also moved in with a Guatemalan family today! Unless the communication difficulties have led me to completely misread this, they seem to be a really lovely family. The parents are quite young (for some reason I was expecting old people) and have a son and a daughter. Unfortunately I was feeling a bit flustered when we all exchanged mi llamos and have no idea what they’re all called, so for now I’m hoping mi amigo will suffice!

Explorer Franklin

My garden in Essex

Oh no my precious Uggs… Gotta love the stick though!

Michael’s power stance!

Ok so firstly I need to clear one thing, in my last blog I rambled on about how I started Spanish lessons tomorrow and how we were going to have an early one so we could be bright in the morning… It hadn´t occurred to me since being here to actually learn what day I was living in, which may have been a good idea to double check what with the 18hour time difference the general confusion that my days are puncuated with regardless of the country. Turns out that yesterday was saturday, not sunday therefore there was no Spanish class tomorrow morning. We didn´t discover this until gone midnight on what turned out to be not such a quiet night out when the bouncer turfing us out the bar informed us that it was now Domingo. After many No Se´s and ¿Hablo Ingles?es it finally sunk in that yes we were wrong and therefore, apart from having to accept that we´re stupid, we could carry on with our night out!

On leaving the bar we were handed a small piece of paper with the address of a house where our night could continue. After following a group of locals we soon found the street only to be welcomed by police, who obviously aware of the house party wanted to keep trouble to a minimum and promptly frisked Michael, whose Britishness didn’t quite prepare him for the tactilness of the experiance, and asked for our passports. These obviously we weren’t carrying, and wouldn’t have handed over anyway, so after some trustworthy smiles and wide innocent eyes the police seemed satisfied that we weren´’t going to shoot anyone and let us proceed.

I’m not entirely sure how we actually got into the party, and this isn’t due to lack of sobriety, but can maybe go back to the confusion factor! What I can tell you is that one minute we were being told by a big, no nonsense Latino guy that we weren’t allowed in, then after a brief conversation with a massive German who I impressed with my extensive Deusch vocab which goes no further than the word “Schmetaling” (butterfly) we were suddenly being let in- for free!

The party was a complete spectacle, and felt like we had walked into one of those cool Mexican indie films! It was in the garden of the house where a makeshift bar had been set up and everyone was keeping themselves warm from the near freezing temperatures by dancing around the large fire in the middle of the garden. I passed the time testing my painfully broken español on the locals, who, looking back were probably just trying to be sleazy and watching all the hoochy latino dancing that was going on which was hilarious as one couples manic moves meant they were constantly knocking into Michael, who was doing well to keep his patience though sticking out his elbows to subtly retaliate…

Around 3 we decided to leave and did the one thing you shouldn’t in this country and walk home after dark. Fortunately there is absoloutely nothing to report on this, and the next thing I can remember is waking up at 2pm today… We’ll call that jet lag!

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