Serendipity

Ever try asking directions to a town you can´t pronounce in a language you don´t understand? The reponse is generally a sympathetic smile which we supect means "you poor simple folk" before a rapid diatribe of of expressions and gesticulations which often leaves us more than confused than when we started. Hence the need to take Spanish classes and what better place to do that than in Quetzaltenango, once we found it. Called Xela for convenience, its Guatemala´s second biggest city famous for it´s language schools, the warm, friendly people and the week long fiestas which seem to take place every week to celebrate saints, scholars, independence and just about every other excuse they can come up with for a party. It´s been relatively peaceful here for the past 8 years but every evening you´d think a war was raging throughout the city as fireworks and rockets light up the sky.



We thought we´d made it through Mexico without getting ripped off by officialdom but a fat, sweaty border guard, the last person we'd see in Mexico, made sure we didn't leave with any misconceptions regarding people in uniform. Entering Guatemala was like....well, entering a diferent country. Gold toothed smiles abound and everyone is more than willing to offer indecipherable directions and advice. A huge improvement in road conditions made for swift progress but no sooner had we entered when a new vibration from deep within the bike dampened the exhileration of opening the throttle once again and enjoying the endless 'curvas peligrosas'. Several stops for a roadside inspection revealed nothing but as we neared Xela the dreaded sound of metal on metal made the undeniable transition from an overactive imagination to reality.


For those of us who don't believe in fate or providence what happened next is still a little hard to comprehend. We literally stumbled upon the president of the Guatemalan BMW owners club who had a workshop within 100 meters of where we had pulled over. Inside the workshop was a collection of classic vintage and modern touring bikes, all pristine beamers. Roberto Ascoli, if you are reading this, "tu eres un heroe". A more thorough inpsection revealed one of the rear wheel bearings was in damaged and in urgent need of replacement. Luckily our plans included a week long stop early in the trip for Spanish lessons so the timing worked out perfectly. While Roberto ordered the parts we enrolled in language school opting for the full immersion method. For the past week it's been 5 hours in the morning of one on one lessons 'mucho gracias Magda y Claudia' followed by activities in the afternoon, tours of the local community, hikes and salsa lessons all while living with a local family close to town. Traditional meals 3 times a day and endless opportunity for practice. It's been a full week culminating in a pre dawn hike up a dormant volcano, Santa Maria, which looms ominously over the city flanked by her very active little sister. Time to move on, however, past Lake Atitlan and on to Antigua. As we look back on Xela one of the more bizzare events in the journey will no doubt spring to mind. While walking through the outskirts of the city we got attacked by a stocky little indiginous woman who accused Beth of stealing her children. Many come to Xela in search of work but find alcohol instead, social services take thier children and for some reason there is a rumour circulating that westerners come here to buy them. No harm done but an interesting insight into how we are perceived in some places.