GUATE'S GOIN' ON....

I try to make all the title entries a song title, but yes, this is a bit of a stretch.

Anyway, am on Day Three in Xela, Guatemala.

I'm having a seriously good time. The great thing about 'echando la hueva' (being really lazy) is that then being really producive feels great.

The most distressing chapter of my life is now over: I have moved out of the 'mad'house. You cannot imagine my glee.

Must remember to write the sad story of Martin, the Rabbit.

Anyway, the tendency towards massive overpreparation to which I am so prone kicked in around 10pm Friday, had to be at the airport midday Saturday and somehow have moved out in the interim. Packing had to begin immediately.

It was unfortunate, because Thursday night ended up being a 6am job due to Iñaki hitting it off with my friends... which I guess is a good thing, as he's been avoiding them so long.

Jemima went out of her way to make sure he felt comfortable, as per their first converstaion:
I: So, what do you like about Latin men? (yeah, great opener)
J: Well, why don't we start with what I don't like about Latin men?
I: Sure, ok.
J: Their height (she says, looking down from her privileged position a full head taller than him)

Somehow he bounced back, and had both J and T lined up with blind dates before the night was out.

I was so hungry when the night began that our:
a) refused entry to Cibeles on grounds of not having booked - please, get your hands off it, did someone forget we're in Mexico
b) appallingly bad 'Vietnamese spring rolls' - that must have refered to what they were eating back in the war...

made me even hungrier, due to delay, and inedibility. Drinking on an empty stomach is never a good idea, but possibly made worse when martini, gin, tequila, wine and beer collide.

Needless to say, this rendered my Spanish language interview with a Mexican anthropologist on:
The slipping grasp of catholocism in Latin America: culture wars and rise of alternative religions"... slightly challenging.

Oh good. There's always the concern that your talent can smell the alcohol that's emenating from every pore of your body, even if they haven't noticed your bloodshot eyes.

In an attempt to counter the effect, I wore my new glasses. I still haven't got over the idea that they make me look intellectual. Actually, I am long-sighted so it really f*cks me up for walking around.. .and I nearly fell over.

My talent was not at all as I expected. If I had alcohol from every pore, he had hair. He was even growing a pretty serious patch out of his nose.

Anyway, from what my fuzzled mind could tell, he was very articulate (apart from my general inability to grasp his general message) and I went off to shoot the breeze wtih Jemima, the funniest person in the world

We talked about religion and after tiring of weighty subjects, talked about height. She once dated a guy who was 6"7 and people in the street used to walk up and basically ask about whether his height was reflected in his genetaelia. Bloody poms, so crass.

Then, unfortunately, we walked past a dwarf.

Apparently he's not sensetive about his height though, because he dresses up as a bear at the Lucha Libre and gets thrown around for the titilation of spectators.

Anyway, we ended up at the pool hall with Tara... and then, intriguingly, at the bowling alley. Jemima says that from her first degree, she mastered pool. From her PhD, she's on top of bowling. Who know what'll happen if she goes back to study again.

Anyway, then, decided to go home and pack. Hmmm... moving out, packing for a trip on which I embark at midday tomorrow... and only three hours' sleep under my belt from the night before.

There's nothing like a challenge.