That's My Time...: My trip to Guatemala

September 23, 2010

Wow! What a full day this turned out to be. In the morning, I went to class for two hours before joining several classmates and teachers on a tour of the Gallo beer factory. Gallo is Guatemala's most famous beer, and the factory (which is located in Guatemala City) is flippin' huge! They're able to produce 40,000 bottles per hour, which translates to them being a frat boy's dream come true. I wish I was able to take more pictures in the factory, but photography was prohibited (Apparently, they were scared members of our group were going to give away their beer secrets. Little did they know the only secret I know about beer is that the free kind is the best!).

One of the most fun parts of the trip (other than getting to sample beer at the end of the tour) was listening to the two Australian guys at the school speak (one of whom bears a striking resemblance to Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean). They use the word "fuck" constantly, and I think they're both in a constant state of hang-over. In fact, one of them was joking that he dreamt he had OD'ed on alcohol. "Not possible," the other one declared.

After they called each other bastards with various adjectives in front of the word, they then started comparing the way they tan to animals. For example, "I tan like a fucking zebra" one would say, to which the other would counter, "No, you tan like a fucking jaguar" (pronounced yag-yoo-wire), and so forth. Then, they declared that they were going to go to "fucking town tonight" at the bar. Jack Sparrow suggested that they invite someone else out who could keep up with their drinking. The other, a bearded guy with long-side bangs, argued that nobody could keep up with their drinking. Jack then concurred.

I tried a Monte Carlo beer at the factory, and it must've gotten to me as I fell asleep on the bus ride home. After the factory tour, I went to a workshop at the school on how to make tortillas. I thought we were going to learn the entire process, but we mostly just learned how to smash them like pancakes and throw them on the frying surface. Oh well, it was still fun, and I enjoyed loading them up with beans and guacamole (and eating them, too!).

I then headed home and met our new roommate at the guesthouse. Oh boy, where to begin about this man? He looks like an old, retired lawyer with unruly gray hair, gaps in his teeth and a slight East Coast accent. He joined me for dinner and spoke while his mouth was full of corn. He went on and on about himself as he nibbled a couple of ears in typewriter-fashion. He explained that he had a girlfriend of three years, just retired from the Balinese furniture importing/exporting business and lived in the San Francisco Bay Area. He immediately began asking personal questions, like if and who I was dating and how things were in the bedroom. I instantly got creeped out and tried to quickly change the subject. That same night, he asked Miranda if she wanted to sit on his lap while she showed him how to use her laptop. He later asked me if I wanted to conserve water by taking a shower with him.

I immediately became enraged. What gives him the right to sexually harass us in our own home? And for him to think that I would even entertain the idea of showering with someone my dad's age is downright disgusting. Plus, he chews with his mouth open to boot!

I then began thinking about some of the injustices being female brings with it here. Not only do men hit on you shamelessly and constantly, but it's unsafe to walk home alone. I totally took the right to walk to a convenience store in the States for granted. Here, in order just to return home, it's necessary to be accompanied by someone else. Not only does this add time to trips as Miranda, Linda, Annie and I usually walk each other and stop at multiple houses and places, but it's an unfair burden women must bear.

In order to escape our new roommate's weirdness, we headed to Monoloco to support a fundraiser for children who live in a literal garbage dump (read: we got crunk and gave the money to a worthy cause). We met several people from our school there, and tried to avoid eye contact with Mr. Sexual Harassment as he showed up as well. We all sat at a large table and exchanged humorous anecdotes, including one from Andrew (the guy with a Southern accent that makes Dolly Parton sound like a Yankee) about his cousin who worked as a server at Applebee's. When she approached a table of gentlemen (term is used loosely) after their main meal, she said, "What would y'all (because it was the South) like for dessert?" "I'll have a Southern delight," was the reply. She inquired what that was.

"You, nekkid on a piece of toast!"

Granted, it doesn't sound all that funny in writing, but hearing someone say "nekkid" for "naked," and actually be serious about it, is priceless in my book!

And now, onto the pictures!