"Mi espanol es no bueno"

"¿Bob Marley es muy popular en Guatemala?" I asked my airport shuttle driver. About fifteen minutes into our drive from the Guatemala city airport he had switched from a local hispanic radio station to a CD of Bob Marley. I suspected perhaps he did it to please the very white girl who sat silently in his passenger seat.

"Mucho touristas en Guatemala." He answered, confirming my suspicions.

I had intended to come to Guatemala with a summer Spanish 101 course under my belt. However due to a teacher with whom´s teaching style I did not mesh I had a meager two weeks and what little I knew from being in California. Going to a foreign country knowing little of the language didn´t phase me because Antigua is full of English speaking students who travel to attend the language schools. I assumed that they were so use to catering to the student population that everyone knew at least a working ammount of English. In fact I was worried that I would not be able to immerse enough. Once again- I feel like a typical sheltered American. A vast majority of Antiguians "no hablo Ingese". The first indication that I might be in trouble were when my aformentioned driver picked me up. When frazzeled, travel weary me met his "¿como estas?" with a quizzical look he followed up with "¿habla espanol?". Now I know what "¿como estas?" means. However 9 hours of red-eye travel had left me a little slow. Adding to that the fact that he did not, in fact, "habla Inglese" I started to panic a bit. I was all about immersing myself but had expected a bit of a safty net. It turned out he did know a tiny bit of English and so we managed a few strained exchanges.

A few examples of my attempts at conversations:

"¿Tu....uh....usted vivo en Antigua o Guatemala City?"

After several instances of drivers cutting in front of our large van "Uh...Guatemalan..uh...drivers...(insert me doing the standard "steering wheel" motion to indicate "driver") es muy loco!"

"¿Donde voy? ¿Esquela o mi casa de Antigua familia?"

I´m sure he was use to new students and humored my very broken Spanish- correcting me gently and repeating his questions to me in the simplest of terms.

"¿Donde eres?"

"Tu gustas Bob Marley?"

An hour or so later he dropped me off at what would be my home for the next month. The door was answered by Franchesca, one of the host mother´s assistants. She spoke no English. She showed me around the house:

"Tu cuarto. Tu bano. Agua."

She then handed me a key and went back to cleaning.

There is no lock to my room. I can lock it from the inside but the outside closes with a sliding bolt. It opens to a small outdoor stoop (across which is my small bathroom which is reminicent of the small, space efficent ones you find in RVs) which means that when I am not in the room there is nothing keeping anyone else out. This made me a bit nervous for the few valuables I had brought (including my recently aquired passport). I looked around my room and saw a cabinet with key holes. Hoping I could use the key to lock up my stuff I sought Franchesca out again. I know neither the word for "key" nor "cabinet" so she met my question with a blank stare. After a few attempts at miming I gave up.

"Pardon, mi espanol es no bueno" I said apologetically. Feeling incredibly sheepish. What was I thinking coming here with so little Spanish? This promised to be a long first week.

Luckily I had brought a lock for my suitcase so I finally decided to stick everything of importance in there, lock it and slide it into the cabinet. Having put everything away, and quelled my concerns about my things dissapearing, I decided I might as well go out and walk around the city. With my trusty messenger bag slung across my torso I headed out- running into Franchesca on the way. I figured a quick "adios" would be sufficent to get me out of the door without more akward exchanges. No such luck. She attempted to tell me when lunch was. I thought she was asking if I was going to get lunch. I said "si". She asked if I ate meat "carne". I thought she was asking...well I don´t know what I thought she was asking. I said "no". She looked concerned. She asked if I was a vegitarian. I said "no". She looked confused. Luckily the tired wheels in my brain turned just in time for me to piece together what had just happened. "No. No Vegitarian. Si carne! Carne bueno!!". She looked less confused but not particularly enthused to be dealing with my very pathetic Spanglish. Finally I understood. Lunch was at 1. Dinner was at 7.

"Comprehendo?"

"si"

And I walked out into the cobblestone street.

After wandering in slow circles through the vaguly marked streets, filled with a vast town of non-English speakers I was a little overwhelmed. I attempted to find a place to change my american dollars into Guatemalan currency Quesales. Despite what I swear the website for my school said, American dollars were NOT redily accepted. I was even turned down by Burger King when I turned to the familiarity of their standardized Americanized lobby. By the time I got back to my homestay for lunch I was, frankly, a little paniced. I wondered how long it would be before I was able to communicate. Then in walked a guy who appeared to be roughly my age. I took a breath, swallowed my pride and attempted, yet again to have a conversation in Spanish.

"Hola. Me llamo Molly."

He gave me an odd look.

"Mucho gusto. Me llamo Jamiel." Then said, in English. "Are you from Antigua?"

Suddenly my stress and tension dissapated. Other English speakers!

"No! California!" I said. "You?"

"Texas."

Forget about total immersion. I´d never been happier to meet someone from Texas.

Some pics of where I am staying: