Hectic Trip, Great Fun
 
I wake up sprawled on the floor, my face cold from the ceramic tile. Confused, memories from last night rush back to me. My dad tells me to get dressed and brush my "ugly, rotten, plum colored teeth." Disoriented I throw on a shirt, shorts, mismatching socks and quickly follow my dad to breakfast with my host family.

I'm greeted by quietly muttered "Hola's" and weird looks. Sitting at the table weird looks turn to snickering, my dad can't hold a straight face and bursts into hysterics. Disgusted I stand up and leave to my room to inspect myself in the mirror. Standing in front of the mirror I observe what looks like a birds nest gone wrong where my hair should be. Gasping I stumble to find a hair comb, five minuets later I only succeed in getting the brush stuck in my hair and dislodging half of it's teeth. Bracing my self I grab a firm hold on the brush and pull, I pull my self halfway across the room before a quarter of my hair with the brush rocket out of my hand and out the window.

Clutching my head I stumble into the dinning room. Laughing Miguel tells me I'm very weird.

After finishing our breakfast, of French toast and fresh fruit, my dad and I set of to our Spanish school- Don Pedro. At the school I am introduced to my teacher-Maria. After a set of grueling and very long tests, to asses my Spanish, she informs me, in immaculate English, that I have a better chance of becoming pregnant via wind pollination then becoming fluent at Spanish.

Clearly very distraught she settles down to teach me the very basics, stuff I learnt when I was six. "Oh-laa" she says, talking to me like I'm a newborn. I repeat. A grave expression crosses her face, "You have an accent" she sighs, announcing a death sentence. I spend the next half an hour getting "Hola" perfect.

Four hours later, when the bell for the end of classes rings, I fly out of my chair, my arse on fire. Running around the schools courtyard I am dragged into helping make tortillas by some old, short, gibbering Guatemalan grannies.
Surprisingly I have quite a but of fun, slapping tortillas from hand to hand to create awfully crooked masterpieces.

Having enough Spanish lessons/traditions for a day my dad and I retire to our rooms, barely shuffling along. Sloths would call us slow. My dad falls on his bed muttering in a mix of Spanish, English, Russian and Egyptian.

Katerina
7/5/2011 22:58:11

i wish i was there, guys! miss you!

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Volga
7/6/2011 00:17:22

Nice writing style :)

Are there any teens in the host family or in the nearby houses? Did you make any friends yet?

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William
7/6/2011 09:39:08

Daniel you finally tried to use a comb...

Im so proud. :)

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Kristina
7/6/2011 13:53:36

Whoever this William guy is, I like him. :) *high fives William*

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1/25/2012 10:52:20

Appreciate your information

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1/25/2012 19:41:06

good post

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3/23/2012 05:27:36

Great info, thx

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5/30/2012 11:49:45

nice post

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