Hath Thy Facebook...

Click here to see the article in the newspaper I work for, The Argentina Independent


The old adage goes: hath thy facebook, and hath thy a job, delete your account. It's true. Ask your friends. Ask your teachers. (Don't) ask your boss. It's ancient folklore.

Strictly speaking I don't have a job. However, I like to imagine that I'm forging a path. It's very windy, and I still don't have diamonds on the soles of my shoes. But for me, the journey started in Guatemala, where I began work on my Spanish. It was also here that my proverbial knowledge of Facebook was addressed.

I had this realization when Lesvia, my favourite teacher - patient, clear, enthusiastic, time enough for an hour per sentence - added me on Facebook. At first I was proud. I received my first message in Spanish. I replied in Spanish. I was corrected in Spanish. But then came our last day together, and, too, distraught to learn any more, we turned to Facebook. Lesvia scrolled through all 1,157 photos of mine as I sat next to her cowering with shame. Of course, I had considered how I looked in the eyes of my peers, but to my favorite Guatemalan maestra? For some reason, it had never crossed my mind.

As we skimmed through, the blinking, green hued computer cast my photos in an even more ugly light – Bebidas, mas bebidas. Mas. Every picture, she informed me, tipping her head back, and motioning towards her mouth with a pretend pint. And then, 'Raquelllllll, what is this!? Raquel!' There I was, pointing at the butt cheek of a boy who was gleefully mooning the photographer. And then again, a huge grin across my face. She kept going, her computer clicks drowning out my desperate explanations in broken Spanish.

We said goodbye that day, joking about my 'sordid' past, automated and ordered on Facebook. "Que tu extranes sobre Inglaterra?" Lesvia asked. Extranes. I filed through the Spanish words that I had stored in my head over the past weeks. Extranes...? extrano! 'Strange.' "Los hombres quienes quitten su ropa!" I replied, affirmatively. My one last dash at dignity. Yes, that's what I find strange about England! The men who take off their clothes all the time! "Es muy extrano, si?" Lesvia's face lit up, “Ah Raquel. I see. So that's what you miss?”

The ABCs of Xela

I've learnt my ABCs in English. I'm learning my ABCs in Spanish, so I thought, why not try my hand at the ABCs of 'Xela'?

A is for Antigua. A mere footnote to Xela
B is for Bella Chao (x 3) and other revolutionary songs of Central America
C is for Chistes: A zorro is walking along the border of Mexico and the United States. The zorro accidentally bumps into a gato and says, 'Oh I'm Sorrrry...' The gato says, 'Oh, I'm Gato...' Get it? No, neither do I but my teachers think it's hilarious. What they found even more hilarious was the fact that I thought 'zorro' was a reference to the Mask of Zorro. It's not. (It's a fox if you were wondering.)
D is for ¡Dios Mios! (la iglesia en Xela tiene cinco televisions...en color)
E is for Empandas Taiwanesa. The best in town. Who Knew?
F is for Frijoles. If you don´t like them now, you will soon.
G... Guatever...
H is for Hurricane Agatha, a devastating storm that took the lives of over 100 people and destroyed the homes of countless families, leaving pueblos and townships in complete disaray. The clean up effort is barely underway.
I is for (el) Infinito, and beyond! A gringo cafe with guatemalteco music
J is for Joder, if you're all about shock factor (and want to display your 'intimate' knowledge of español)
K is for ¿K tal? Spanish text-speak
L is for Los Estrellas de la Linea, a heartwarming, and at times, tragic portrayal of life for a group of Guatemalan prostitutes who form a soccer team in order to raise awareness about the plight of sex workers in Central America.
M is for 'un Mozo por favor' (the Guatemalan Bud Light)
N is for Noches. Buenas.
O is for 'OBVs'. Works anywhere.
P is for PLQ, the best place to learn Spanish in Central and South America. Can't you tell?
Q is for Quiché (a.k.a K'iche), one of the many indigenous languages spoken in Guatemala. Particularly commen in the surrounding mountains of Xela.
R is for Rolling your RRRRRRss
S is for San Simon, amigo of Gaucho Gil. Although the folkloric Saint is not fully recognized by the Catholic Church, admirers still turn up in the hundreds to pay their respects to the beer swigging, cigar toting martyr. Incidentally, these are his favorite gifts. And incidentally, they also miraculously 'disappear' from his shrine...
T is for Tenotopican, a nearby pueblo where a local collective of women specialize in weaving beautifully ornate traditional guatemalan clothes.
U is for Usted. Politely.
V is for Volcanos. Be aware of billows of smoke and clouds of ash looming overhead
W is for Wellington Boots. BRING THEM.
X is for 'Xela,' a beloved city in the highlands of Guatemala from which I am writing this very moment. World famous for their Spanish language Schools, Taiwanese Empanadas (seriously) and torrential downpours.
Y is for Yellow school buses. If you are yearning for yesteryear and the innocent days of paper aeroplanes and yellow school buses, look no further than Guatemala: The place where school buses come to die... Or are revived. Depending on your feelings about combustion smog.
Z is for Zunil, home of San Simon, trusted amigo and life long companion of Gaucho Gil.


The venerable San Simon, sunglasses and dappled pink tie bringing luck and good fortune to all.

Los Problemas Español

Since arriving at language school in Guatemala I have had muchos problemas español. And my dream of becoming fluent in six weeks is quickly fading...

1. I told my teacher that I was married (casada) instead of tired (cansado)

2. I told Jorge, the son of my host family, ¨me gustas muchas" (i like you alot) instead of, 'I like it alot.' This happens everyday.

3. I didn't bring enough socks. But i did learn the word for socks, 'los calcentines.'

4. Yo bailo la salsa... (badly)

5. I bought un reloj that doesn´t work, and cost alot. I now have no alarm (and no Quetzales).

6. I attended film night. The film was Bosnian. With Spanish subtitles.

7. I met another student called, 'Rachell' but I just thought that nobody could pronounce my name.

8. I turned up for all the activities because I thought I was already signed up. I wasn´t. But Rachell was.

9. I overestimated the weather (wishful thinking)

10. I arranged to spend six months interning in Buenos Aires. Pero no hablo español.

Hay muchos problemos.

the end of the world (cup)

Today I reached the world's end: A rusty fairground that falls sharply into the Pacific Ocean at the edge of a town that is nestled between the lush green hills of the Costa Rican Jungle. The flat grey sky weighs down on the valley, the heavy clouds hacking away at the concrete, as the taqueria's and tiendas crumble to the ground. The ferriswheel slowly creaks in the background blending into the storm that rolls across the ocean, keeping time in suspense.

It's the world cup final, but even so, the clock seems to stand still. As the hour ticks on for the players, neither team makes any progress, mirroring the slow, dense wave of heat that saturates the bar. Towards the end of the game the bar slowly wriggles with life, half the tables jumping to their feet as Spain score their only goal. Four minutes to go... and then three...the room is suddenly thick with nerves. Some people wring their hands together. Others grip their chairs. Two minutes left, and then BAM. The power goes off. The TV sputters and the screen fizzes to grey. A sigh echoes through the room uniting all the supporters. And that's it, the world cup is over. We think Spain has won, but a last minute come back isn't off the cards. So instead we wander the streets, trying to find some evidence of the game. An old man sits by his pizza stand in the fair ground. The TV blinks, but he doesn't seem to care, indifferent to the screen in front of him where history is being made.

playing catch up

Last year I entered a Rough Guide travel writing competition - describe a place you know well with an 'on budget' theme. I chose to write about Camden. Sadly I didn't win. But the lucky person who did is the next contributor to their South America guide - all expenses paid.

I based my entry on something I wrote for UCL's Pi Newspaper a couple of years ago.

But I did get a lucky break last month when I got paid for an article I wrote for Time Out London during some work experience at their offices (still to be scanned)

I really needed the dinero so perhaps it was my first milagro. If you're any better with your funds than I am you can buy a set of ten here.

the legend of 'gauchito gil'

I always say if I'd been born in any other life I'd want to be a pirate. A bit of Jack Sparrow never goes amiss. But instead of following the compass due North, and riding out the surf into the sunset, I'm heading in a South-Western direction - towards Buenos Aires*. And I'm going to need more than a compass to steer me in the right direction.

My Spanish is flojo at best. And as of right now I am entering Argentina on an (illegal) one-way ticket. Prospects for my first day of work are not looking positive. So I've decided to throw caution to the wind (much like the pirates) and put all my faith in my second favorite rogues: The Cowboys.

Gauchito Gil is a favorite folk hero of the Argentines. A good-hearted outlaw. First he had his heart broken by a rich heiress and was cast off his land. Then he was forced to fight against his own country men in a brutal civil war. To make matters worse he became prey to a bloodthirsty policeman. Whilst on the run Gauchito saved the life of the policeman's only son, but the raging officer killed Gil anyway. If that doesn't make you the stuff of legends I don't know what will. eHow provides a handy four-step guide on How to Ask Gauchito Gil for a Miracle. I know I will be.

*via Guatemala in August