Maybe it's because, with volcanoes as landmarks, this is the first town I've ever lived in where I actually know which direction I'm facing. Maybe it's because my team has won the weekly Sunday Night Pub Quiz at Reilly's three weeks in a row. Or, it could be the little flowers that grow out of each and every roof. But it's definitely not the firecrackers that go off at all hours when the sun is down, and many when the sun is up (that, for the record, serve no purpose, save to deafen and piss you off, to no end) ; or the neighbouroughly Gallos (roosters...also the name of the local Brew...), whose discordant crows are as painful as an adolescent's and even more untimely (the sun DOES NOT rise at 3:30 a.m., goddammit) It might be that, upon arrival, I was assured I would either be bedridden with a swift-weight loss solution-- diarrhea--, robbed at knife point, or be swept off my feet by an exotic man from an exotic place, and I'm still 0 for 3 (I have to come back with at least one interesting story.) But I think it's probably because I finally have an answer to the question that haunts me like a ghost... what-- in God's name--do you do with an English major?
This is what you do.
You find a bookstore you love and meet the owner. You pretend to have heard of all of his favorite authors and to love every book he recommends. He will also own a retaurant/bar next door. The Menu cover, a cheap, stained photo copy, states "Live Music-Great Food-Uncomfortable Seats-Confused Staff-Tattered Books-Cold Beer-Two Dogs". It's called Cafe No Sé--that means "I don't know" in Spanish, and since that's pretty much how you feel about life these days, it feels like a fit. They also serve a Musician´s Breakfast, which is two cigarettes, two advil and a cup of coffee...cheap beer optional...you think that is really neat. Spend a lot of time at his bar...drinking cheap beer and great margaritas (stay away from the Mezcal he smuggles in from Mexico...the clear stuff.. with the scorpian venom...) Once you have convinced him of your love for books and laid-back cool-ness, you convince him to actually pay you to sit in the bookstore you love. You will be making about $1/hour...but benefits include a free meal and discount on drinks.
So, now you have food, drinks and income taken care of (assuming you only eat three days a week and spend your other $10 on beer). Next, drenched in the illusion that you can convince all children to love books, you ask if you can head up the book club at a volunteer project in a country where reading for pleasure has absolutely NO place. Where bookstores exist solely to serve tourist purposes and people look at you like a complete freakshow when you whip out a book on the bus. It's a lost cause to begin with--this idea that you can get kids to think about and appreciate books--but (sigh), you're a hopeless idealist as well...so you actually get excited as you set yourself up for your inevitable crash and burn as the Book Club Director. (I got a lovely preview of this when I bought El Principito--The Little Prince--for all of the boys in my class and the books swiftly became a means through which to hit one another).
Once you have all this figured out, you buy a plane ticket you cannot afford back to Guatemala. And decide to stay through April.
But, really, what do you with an English major, is whatever ever you want...and whatever you love...because that is why you became an English major in the first place.
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