Turning Latina

Everyday I become more and more Latina, es verdad. I dance salsa, I put ketchup on everything, including spaghetti, I have broken the habit of throwing toilet paper in the toilet, I journal in Spanish and dream with meringue music in the background, I crave frijoles, tortillas and platanos con crema, I drink dehydrated coffee sin leche, I carry a typical Mayan embroidered bag and I travel by chicken bus and in the back of pickup trucks.


Last weekend we took a trip to Lago Atitlan- muy precioso. This is a huge lake surrounded by volcanoes and mountains. There’s a bunch of tiny pueblos (towns) accessible only by boat. We stayed in a town called Santa Cruz in a hotel without any electricity. It was so nice just to relax under a blooming flower tree in a hammock, just listening to the waves roll in over the rocks on the bank.

I’ve also had the opportunity to watch two surgeries at a private clinic. I scrubbed in, put on the proper scrubs and was right there peering over the surgeon as he worked his magic. The first patient was a six year old girl with a hernia near her groin. The surgeon speaks Spanish very monotonically and quickly making it practically impossible for me to understand, but the anesthesiologist speaks English very well and explains each step to me. The first surgery was great, I left with a smile on my face and couldn’t wait to call my parents and tell about my afternoon.
The second surgery was not quite as glamorous. It was a four hour long surgery on varicose veins in an old woman’s calf. The first part was done lapriscopically which was a great experience. I got to see the inside of a leg on a television screen and at the same time watch the doctor perform this amazing technique right in front of me. I’m going to spare you all the details of the surgery, because it is not a pleasant portrayal of our physical existence. I can’t lie, I lost some sleep yesterday because I can’t get some of these images or sounds out of my head, and my calf hurts from thinking about this. If a tree falls in the woods and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a noise? If the patient can’t feel the pain, does it hurt? It hurts me, watching it.
This is my last week of Spanish classes, and I am impressed with my level of Spanish. Yesterday, for our schools activity, we took a tour of the city. The tour guide and teacher organizing the trip only spoke Spanish, so I was nominated to be the official translator. That was a pretty nice feeling. I’ve also started dreaming in Spanish, journaling in Spanish and reading my daily horoscope in Spanish.
So I’m leaving Xela next Monday and traveling to the Bay Islands in Honduras to get certified in scuba diving. On the way there I’ll be making short stops in Antigua and the ruins in Copan. I’m traveling with Scott and Paul, friends from New Zealand and London. It’ll be sad to leave, I have a room I call home, a teacher who I’ve become quite close with, and a routine here, but the traveler inside calls, and onward I go.