Back to school, again. Studying spanish, again. Two years in college taught me, at a basic level, how to read and write. But I was forever too timid to speak — a quality one would normally ever relate to my personality. Fact of the matter is, if you don’t speak the language you’re never truly going to learn it. Determined and unwilling to admit defeat, I found myself in Antigua, Guatemala — a city known for its spanish schools — working one-on-one with Rosario twenty hours a week for three weeks and sharing meals with my host mom, Eva, and fellow students and housemates, for that little extra push to vocalize what I had learned each day.
Rosario instantaneously became more than my teacher, she was my pal and confidant (insert Golden Girls theme song here). Though we spent a bit of time with traditional lessons, numerous hours were spent telling stories, and recounting our previous evenings. Our chattiness led me through the doorway of various past tenses, new expressions, and gave me a better ear for hearing transitions in conversations. Together we laughed at how I lost all my Spanish — and half my English — when conversing with the fine-looking gentleman that works at the tattoo shop. We began the inevitable conversations on food and cooking which led to a day spent in the market to learn about food and the art of haggling. I looked forward to each and every morning with Rosario. The idea of no longer enjoying these moments with her, as I stepped away from my last class, was overcome by the warmth of always knowing she was the one to break down my speaking barrier. I will forever be grateful.
And then there was Eva. She prepared three meals a day, six days a week for the six students living in her house along with her own family who came and went. Collectively, Eva and her daughter ran a laundry service seven days a week. She provided for her husband as he was in and out of the hospital — only being able to visit him one hour a day upon his absence. And managed to hold it all together as her husband lost his leg due to amputation. Eva still joined us at each meal to discuss class, nightly plans, weekend trips, politics, culture, and family. She was our mother and our teacher. Added to my book of life are ambitions to be as strong, confident, and collected as she.
Inside and outside the house I had my fellow students, my quickly made friends, that I began to build relationships with. We went on weekend trips, gathered for candle lit glasses of wine, talked over bites to eat, and went out late night dancing. Gathered in a circle we created Travelers Anonymous where we confided in one another our deep rooted reasons for packing up our lives and adventuring to Central America. These were the people I was cherishing my days with. And though sad to leave them, and the splendor of Antigua, they gave me more memories that cling to my heart.
Rain for Travel 