I Dunno

I am really touched by the handful of you who expressed regret at the demise of wormlips. For you, I’ll make a deal. I’ll keep it going till I get back from my trip. After that, I really think it’s just not worth it.

I’m leaving for Guatemala at 5:30 a.m. tomorrow morning which means I have to leave my house around 2:30. I don’t want to go. I’m homesick. I have too much to do. I’ve been in denial about leaving: I haven’t packed, or made a reservation to the airport, or paid bills, or arranged to have mail picked up, or authorized my credit cards for use in Guatemala (a rather important detail, since otherwise I have no money). I don’t have a toothbrush. Mom: I did get to the bank and deposit all the checks, thank you very much.

Further evidence that I’m off to a bad start: two months ago I told my friend I was arriving on the 29th, and asked her to get a taxi for me from Guatemala City to Antigua (about an hour’s drive, and if you don’t have your ride prearranged it’s kind of awful, with scores of guys aggressively trying to get you to ride with them in the sunset, or somewhere). Maria called Don Toí±o, our cab driver friend. I’m very fond of him, despite limited verbal communication. It makes me kind of proud that there’s someone who speaks English even less than I speak Spanish.

So what happened was, I messed up. I realized only this morning that I arrive a day earlier than I’d said. I’ve been frantically trying to reach Maria ever since, without success. Anxiety mounting, I decided to bite the bullet and call Don Toí±o directly. If you’ve ever tried to speak a second language, you know that it’s exponentially more difficult on the telephone. Before I called, I looked up a few words. Cometí­ un error means I made a mistake. Voy a llegar maí±ana, no el dí­a antes is supposed to straighten out the date of my arrival, but in fact I said I’m arriving tomorrow, not the day before. I think I did manage to give him the new flight number and airline. I’m not sure he knew who I was but I’m pretty sure he’s now prepared to meet someone like me, and I hope it’s tomorrow afternoon. Meanwhile, I don’t know if I’ll have a place to stay on my premature arrival, but I know Toí±o won’t leave me stranded in El Parqué Central.

Mom and Molly and Katie: If you’re listening… I really wanted to call you today but I’m too busy losing my mind. I think I may have shingles (that’s what Anna & Cheryl think it is) but I haven’t been able to get a doctor to see me and now I don’t have time. It just looks like a bunch of spider bites, not gross like I’d thought and nothing like the disgusting pictures online. In fact, it’s really quite decorative and artistic, like a watercolor of an early night sky. It itches and hurts, both on the skin and beneath it, like little daggers. I didn’t think I was old enough for such a thing.

Syd: Thanks for your suggestion I look into Boontling. Actually, my dear, it’s a lingo, not a language. How do I know that, you might ask? Is it because I’ve been studying language? No, that’s Molly’s domain. Is it because I produced two programs about it in the mid-1980s? Why, yes. I’m curious to know if Boontling still exists. Does it? How did you hear about it? At that time, only a few old-timers still spoke it.

I hear you wondering, Where on Earth might I hear such programs? Why, right here at wormlips.com.

Short (feature) version for All Things Considered:
Long (documentary) version for NPR Journal: