For the week I was in Xela, I lived with a Guatemalan family. My host mom was more like a host abuela—Catalina was an older woman who had several adult children and grandkids, most of whom lived nearby. She’d been hosting PLQE students for more than 15 years.

Her house was on Diagonal 2, a few blocks away from PLQE. Besides her and myself, two 20-something Guatemalan guys lived there: Eddie, who worked in a bank, and Gaspar, a med student.

I loved the layout of Catalina’s house and wished my NYC apartment resembled it more. Four bedrooms, a bathroom and kitchen flanked a small, central courtyard that was bright and airy during the day, when the sun streamed in. The focal point of the courtyard was the pila, the green, table-like structure on the right. It has a basin in the center for clean water, and two surfaces on either side for washing dishes and clothing.

My room was small and basic, but comfy enough.

I came home for every meal and felt super-lucky to have Catalina as a host mom. She was an amazing cook and never served the same dish twice. Breakfast was usually eggs (my fave!), beans and the amazingly delicious corn tortillas that Guatemalans eat with every meal. Lunches and dinner were often rice, chicken or pork with veggies and more tortillas. Catalina’s dishes were such a nice change from the oatmeal/eggs/avocado/bagel/soup diet I subsist on at home in NYC.

Plus, those meals were another opportunity to practice Spanish—though, admittedly, I couldn’t really follow the conversations unless someone spoke directly to me in slow, basic Spanish. And then repeated everything twice. Gaspar spoke English quite well and (even though I guess it was cheating, a little!) sometimes helped me out by explaining words and phrases in English.

Before I came to Xela, I notified PLQE that I was allergic to cats and dogs and couldn’t live in a house with either. But it didn’t occur to me that families would have other kinds of animals.

On the first day I met Catalina, I nearly freaked out when I saw her pet—a plump chicken named Paloma. I am deathly afraid of birds. That afternoon, she started to walk into my room, but ran out when I gasped and jumped on my bed. After that, she stayed away from me (smart bird!) and only tried to come in one other time.

I never told Catalina I was afraid of Paloma because I a) didn’t want to be an inconvenience to her or PLQE and b) because I thought I should face my fear and just deal with it. That tactic kind of worked—I got used to living with a bird and, after a few days, stopped cringing when I heard her making bird noises outside my room. Eventually, I didn’t even have a problem eating chicken while Paloma sat in the next room. I suppose that’s part of what this trip was about anyway—learning and self-growth.

On my last day in Xela, Catalina gave me a notebook in which all her former students wrote her a note, along with their contact information. It was interesting to see where everyone was from (mostly different cities in the US and Canada) and how good their Spanish was (most seemed way better than me). With only one week of Spanish under my belt, I needed a dictionary to write my letter, but I thanked her for her hospitality, patience with my Spanish and, of course, for her delicious cooking. And I apologized for any errors!