Answer:
Explanation:
It was Christmas time and dad had told us months back we'd be going for the holidays at mum's, in Guadalajara. The only skepticism I had was because of the fact that my Spanish was poor. Very poor, almost non existent. I didn't grow up among Latinos and mum hardly speak it to us either.
The time came, we took dad's Range Rover and off we went down south, through the border, and into Mexico city. We got to Guadalajara and reality kicked in. Of course there were going to be English speaking people there, but sadly, we were to be going to a very remote party of Guadalajara, a place where English speakers wasn't a guarantee.
We got to the house, dropped our bags and I headed off to take a shower. After I was done, I left the house to go sight seeing, and there, my worst fears happen. The most I could say in Spanish was, "Buenos Días" and "Como estás?" I didn't know anymore. I had to be asking everyone if they spoke English, but somehow, they all seemed not to, or intentional lied that they didn't, at least that's what I believe.
I went back home in annoyance, I'd spent 2 hours and I couldn't get someone to talk to me. This really is a very remote village
