Last weekend we hiked to Laguna Chicabal, a lagoon in the crater of a volcano. We took public transportation to a town named San Martin. It seems public transportation here is an experience in and of itself. Duane spent the half hour ride on the microbus (i.e. van) bent over, trying to avoid falling on people whenever the vehicle flew around a curve. Daniel spent the ride absolutely smushed between two strangers. The hike to the lagoon was long and, obviously, uphill. Part way up we decided to hire a truck to ease our legs. A man happened to be by driving by and, for a few dollars, was happy to turn around and take us up the mountain. We rode in the back of his pickup truck which was full of large sticks. The ride was, once again, a crazy one, winding on a bumpy mountain road without guard rails.

The walk the rest of the way to the lagoon was gorgeous. The clouds would roll in and out of our path. Every so often we would see local families carrying piles of sticks down the mountain on their backs. It appeared if one was old enough to walk, one was old enough to work. The path into the crater was a bit scary. Since we were in a cloud, the 570 steps down were not only narrow, but also wet and slippery.

On Sunday we visited a local church. Surprisingly, we were greeted solely by a young boy. While we tried to engage people in conversation, no one was interested in talking with us. Disappointed, we stopped for ice cream on our walk home to lift our spirits.

Immersion is certainly the way to learn a language! We've found that living the language helps us retain it. The other day we saw a dog that had been killed in the road. (There are ferril dogs all over the place.) The dogs body was completely flattened against the road. One comment about the "perro plano" was enough for us to never forget that "plano" means flat. Another example of this happened while we were hiking up out of the volcano's crater. We were with an older woman who was having a very difficult time. She kept begging our young and strong Guatemalan guide to, "empuje, empuje." He pushed her the whole way up. It was a hilarious scene and never will we forget that "empujar" means "to push."

It appears, not surprisingly, that Daniel has the most authentic accent of the family. The entire way up out of the crater he said, "arriba, arriba," beautifully rolling his R's.

Duane and I continue to enjoy time with our teachers. Duane's teacher, Erika, tells him stories that give us a better understanding of what life as a Guatemalan is like. My teacher, Pablo, continues to ask a million questions a day to get me to talk. I appreciate it immensely and know that struggling to speak is the only way to learn.

Charles was sick yesterday, but is now feeling better. Today Charles was saddened by the idea that this opportunity to learn Spanish by immersion is almost over. He feels he learned more Spanish at Casa Xelaju than he does at the Guatemalan primary school, so he would like to return to Casa Xelaju. Perhaps a few afternoon classes at Casa Xelaju are possible.