Story, Part Two

Nestled into the back of the El Barrio bar, the two of us sat sipping drinks and exchanging stories. Foreign languages can really surprise you sometimes, I though to myself. Here I am, in Central America, never have I taken a formal Spanish class in my life, and I´m managing to hold quite a long set of conversations. How? I´m not really sure. But what I do know, is somehow we understand each other.

As the evening developed, and my inhibitions relaxed, our conversations moved from the simple ¨I live¨, ¨you live¨, and ¨what type of travel have you done¨ to the more complex and much more difficult ¨this is what I think of politics¨, ¨this is what I think of Michael Moore¨, and ¨this is what I think of the state of affairs in the world¨. The former conversations were not as smooth in my bad Spanish. But, once again, we somehow managed to generate good discussion, and in the process, understand each other.

We stayed discussing the simple -and the complex- for quite awhile; and it was enjoyable. Though, there did eventually reach a point where my mind conveyed the message that ¨I´ve had enough!¨. And, it was at this point that we headed to a club near the Panajachel dock.