Good night, Xela!

All the friendly faces are there. From all around the world we gather at our temporary home at our hostel. We recount the day's events and determine who is cooking at home and who is going out to eat. Some do both. Again we negotiate the language of choice for the evening. Is the Escuela para los Gringos in session? Only until one of us remembers something too funny to risk misunderstanding in Spanish.

We gather in the kitchen, held there together by what we've named "air glue." Apparently, it is spread by laughter, making it quite difficult to leave the kitchen after only a short amount of time. We gather here like a family, learning to support each other and becoming genuinely interested in each others lives and activities over a shared bag of tostadas.

Slowly, we move our way out of the kitchen. Perhaps it is to do homework or run errands or to meet some friends out on the town. I grab my books and head down to my favorite coffeehouse.

First stop: El Cuartito. It's full, as usual, and I enjoy the hunt for a table. I meet some friends there and our studying turns into laughter about our spanish flubs and our odd experiences here. Second stop: La Fonda del Che. Emilio is playing again, and it's impossible to not love xela while listening to his music. The guatemaltecos sing along to every song, and it further secures my affection for them. Third stop: La Rumba. I just can't pass up the opportunity to salsa dance, no matter how tired I am from the day's travels. I see some new friends from salsa class, and they are gracious enough to help me learn some new steps. I am forever grateful that they actually take the time to talk with me and hang out despite the fact that my communication skills leave me with the personality of a doorknob. Perhaps they've learned to read the different meanings behind my smiles and nods.

It's late, and my homework still awaits, but the night was worth staying up late for. I head back to my "habitacion" and listen to the sounds of the city as I do my homework: the reggaeton parties down the street, the rain on the plastic roof, the cat wailing and hungry. Here I think about the day, the week, the weeks. I take these experiences, these gifts, and pack them up. They will always be with me, and I look forward to the unpacking process.