Sometimes – though not very often – when traveling, one makes a mistake. For instance, one might find oneself faced with the opportunity to study Spanish in Guatemala for half the price than the school, or escuela, one researched in a different location. And one might research said school but not find anything. And one might decide that one week at this school – at half-price, don’t forget – is a good investment. This, dear reader, is a mistake; for with Spanish schools, as with tattoos, one gets what one pays for.

Yesterday I arrived back in Antigua to meet the family who will host and feed me during this week of Spanish classes (5 hours each of 5 days). “Family”, it turns out, refers to the (pleasant and funny) woman who runs a super-discount hotel for locals – and other people who get talked into this school by Señor Marco Tulio – and the family members she bribes to show up for some meal-time conversation. Luckily for me, Doña Julia also is hosting a nonmedicated schizophrenic woman and her husband and child, an often-nude Japanese man (another student) with some crazy habits of his own, and a seemingly nice and normal Taiwanese woman (another student).

Have I mentioned the entire house is painted Pepto-Bizmol-pink? Because that’s definitely true. And awful.

Early this morning, after a mellow night with Lizzie at Rainbow Cafe (from which I walked back by myself, against good judgement), I was sound asleep in my little broken bed (next to the one with the growing pile of mysterious specks) when I heard “CRASH!BOOM!BANG!CRASH!BANG!CRASH!”. Fine; I’ve been sleeping in dorms, this is no big deal. Then, the sound of shower and talking to oneself. Then, another shower. Then, panting and grunting in the common area outside the doors. Fantastic. Sex? Exercise? I don’t want to know. But it’s been an hour and breakfast is in four hours sharp. I noisily storm to the door and make a big to-do of unlocking the doors – I want to announce I am furious while avoiding any sex-vistas. On the other side of the door is the naked Japanese man, presumably exercising. I hope. (There’s a red washcloth on the floor; I don’t want to know.)

After I angrily close and lock my door, and maybe I call him an asshole, he decides to take his third shower of the evening. He paces for another 20 minutes after that and then finally settles into his room for sleep. He snores. A lot and loudly. Jesuchristo.

Breakfast is indeed at 7:30 a.m. sharp. Punctuality is not necessarily common in muy tranquilo Guatemala, but today of all days it is. Oh no! I didn’t tell Doña Julia I don’t like mango. No problem. My teacher is also punctual and at this point I am awake enough to appreciate it. A 34-year-old woman has my 1st-grader’s notebook and a warm smile. Then the students come pouring in; there is no room to study except on my bed. No thank you very much; let’s walk.

Dearest maestra does not speak English, which is mostly good except for when I have a complicated question. She also has no teacher’s certification or many years of experience … I guess this is okay. She also will not be providing me any photocopies of her photocopied book, a book which I could have purchased and read myself for much less than this week will cost me. We decide it is too soon for me to conjugate verbs in anything but present tense – a skill I pretty much mastered for regular verbs in 7th grade – and go over the names of fruits and vegetables (which are actually still just fruits but I cannot explain why in Spanish).

The conversations are quite helpful because, unlike most people here, she allows me to struggle through my entire thought without interruption. This is our only saving grace, dear reader. After we finish my lesson at her house, which is small but seems like paradise compared to the Pepto-Sanitarium, I walk back for lunch and conversation time. I spend the next 45 minutes speaking in English to Nicole (the Taiwanese woman), not at all to Hiro (the crazy, naked Japanese man), and explaining how my piercings make me like Frankenstein’s monster in Spanish. The spaghetti was tasty … y la comida muy típico, no?