The dispatch from El Cuartito
I have now been living in Xela for close to six weeks and am more or less getting accustomed to the rhythm of life here…suffering daily linguistic breakdowns, perfecting my sign language (”Quisiera algunas…{frantic hand gesture toward object of desire}, por favor? No…no…este, alli!”), searching in vain for clothes and shoes that fit (this is a country of tiny people), the daily rainstorms, and getting used to sights that used to seem somewhat whimsical, like watching two girls in K’iche dress racing up a dirt road on their motorcycle, the one in back balancing a basket of plantains on her head.