Como un Chapín

Are you SURE that your family is not Latino? HAHA. Look at me, brother. I am definitely not Latino. Yet, just two days while I was at the beach, that is the exact question that a Guatemalan asked me after a few minutes of chatting with him. The first two questions were, I kid you not…

Guatemalan Man: Where are you from in Guatemala?

Me: I am not from Guatemala. I am from Florida (said with an exceptionally beautiful Spanish accent). My family lives there now.

Guatemalan: Oh, is your family from Guatemala?

Me: No, definitely not. Mainly from Eastern Europe.

After finally declaring that I was not Latino in any way, he looked at me curiously, and declared that I sounded exactly like a Chapín, como un Chapín, and my accent was great. A Chapín is the local word for a Guatemalan, basically what they call themselves here. I would love to tell you the significance of the word chapín but the 50 or so Guatemalans that I have asked do not even know. And this chapín thought that I was a chapín. Qué Increíble! After another five minutes or so of talking, I was pretty sure that he no longer thought of me as a fluent Spanish speaker but I will definitely take that compliment anytime.

The last week here has been great for my Spanish and I definitely feel that I am taking it to a new level. Actually today has been a no English day for me. I feel that it will be the first of many self-imposed days where I am not allowed to speak English. I do have to admit that I talked to my Mom on the phone today in English and answered a question for a nice non-Spanish speaking lady in my school but other than that I have not spoken one word of English. And I have talked a lot.

On Friday morning, the day before I was set to leave for a weekend on the beach, I lazily walked to the central park in my sweatpants and tshirt that I slept in the night before and bought a newspaper. I then lazily walked back to my house, reading it as I walked. On my walk back, I finally realized that I was getting somewhere with my Spanish and it felt really good. There is something about buying a newspaper while wearing my scrubby clothes that made me feel at home in Guatemala. I felt like I now sort of belonged here among all the native speakers. It was a fabulous feeling, one that I will try to hold on to for a while.

So I mentioned the beach. I went to Monterrico Beach this past weekend with Matte, my awesome Australian housemate. The beach is said to be one of the most beautiful, if not the most, in Guatemala, but it still pales in comparison to most every beach in Florida. Guatemala is not known for its beaches. Still it was incredibly relaxing and I enjoyed it immensely. Monterrico has become quite famous as it is a nature reserve and on its beach, thousands of turtles lay their eggs during the months between June-September. For a while, I have wanted to go visit because there is a famous, or infamous, turtle race that is held every weekend. The turtle race, put on by the local turtle nursery that is helping in the effort to save sea turtles by cultivating the eggs and then releasing them, basically matches up on the recently hatched turtles against each other as they make their way to the sea. For a small donation of 10Q, equivalent to $1.35, you can “adopt” a turtle, and if your turtle wins the race to the sea, you win a free dinner. It is a cheap, fundraising effort but still I adopted my turtle, who I named Tito, and was ready to win the entire thing. When I said recently hatched turtles before, what that means is that the turtle were hatched anywhere between 3-12 hours before their release. They were the tiniest, cutest little things I have ever seen. Their eyes were not even open yet! As I held Tito to prepare to release him to the unforgiving ocean (only about 6-8 percent of baby turtles survive in the sea, meaning that of the 85 released on Saturday night, only 5 will survive to adulthood), I saw the look of a determined champion in his/her eyes. He was ready to go as he was kicking his legs/flippers continuously. I tried to tell Tito to rest until the start of the race but he was not listening. So as I waited for all the other adopters to pick their turtles, Tito just kicked relentlessly. As you can guess, when the race started Tito was spent, and even though I was cheering loudly for him, he came in close to last place. Yet, seeing the 85 tiny turtles struggle to reach the ocean brought great joy to my life. It was watching nature at its finest. One day, the surviving turtles will come back to that exact beach to hatch their own eggs. Incredible.

The rest of the weekend at the beach was spent tanning, eating, and reading. I also took a canoe tour of the mangrove reserve at 5:30am in the morning, getting a chance to see the sunrise and the many birds flying around chirping as they set off on a new day. You would think that it would be difficult for me to wake up at 5:30am, and it is, but when you were barely asleep the night before, not as difficult. And I wish that I was barely asleep for the reason of a girl or a great night of partying, but it was actually because I could not sleep due to the noise of other people partying while I was trying to go to bed in preparation for the early morning wake up. Besides the sleep, the weekend out of Antigua was great for my spirit and I am now determined to continue my days of no English and forge ahead to fluency, como un Chapín.