“Well,” says the Internet, “it’s hard to say.”  

The Internet is correct. There are a lot of factors at play – your fitness level, the water conditions, how much time you have, and any prior experience you might have in standing on board-like objects and not showing up in “fail” compilation videos.  That sort of thing.  

Surf Tribe says that in 1-2 lessons you could be standing up.  Boardcave USA  keeps it awfully broad – it could take between one lesson and 1-2 months to surf like a beginner. 

So, optimistically, maybe I could learn to surf in an hour.  Or it could take a few months.  Either way, I’m in El Paredon, the Guatemalan version of “Surf Town USA” — I should try this, right?

But first, let us define surfing. For me.  I hereby declare that surfing shall be “standing up on a surfboard and riding an (ocean) wave for, say, 5 seconds or more”.  That seems reasonable.     

Let’s define me: I am a mid-50s guy in decent shape.  I have reasonable balance and fitness from loads of bike riding, weekly strength workouts, and regular yoga-ish stretching.  Although none of these activities involve balancing on a board.  Nor do I have much muscle and, unfortunately, at 6′ 4′, not a particularly low center of gravity.  My frame is the opposite of a compact, muscular body.  

I will relieve your tension, dear reader, and confess right now that the answer to the question – Can a mid-50s guy in decent shape (but tragically lanky) Learn to Surf in an Hour? The answer is no.  No, he cannot.    

Why not?  

It’s not my teacher’s fault.  I’ll call him Michel because, for the life of me, I can’t now recall his name but that seems close. 

Michel was from Belgium, blonde, maybe 5’10, broad shouldered, possessed of a good surfing body.¹  There was one other student with us, an athletic looking, young woman from Montreal who was still sore from her hour-long surf lesson the previous day.  Not a good sign. 

We were in the black sand beach town of El Paredon, Guatemala, and I had hired Michel from one of the hotels. On the stable sand we first went through the motions of holding the board, kneeling, then standing and various other rules and helpful hints. 

Here’s what I actually learned once I got in the water. Surfing is an incredibly physical activity. And I’m not talking about the riding the wave part (which I didn’t really do anyway).  Staggering around in the ocean wrestling with a 25 lb (or more?), 8 foot long flat object that wind and waves are constantly trying to wrench from your grasp is hard. Heck, I got tired just carrying the board from the hotel to the beach. As if that weren’t enough, if you’re not careful with that object, it can hurt you, especially the 3 narrow fins in the back. The board (and fins) can also seriously hurt other innocent people in the ocean. 

As if maneuvering the board in never-ending wave action weren’t enough, to do the thing (surfing) you’ve got to get yourself in position in front of a good wave (as defined by Michel), jump up and slide on the board on your chest very quickly and smoothly, then paddle really, really hard to catch the wave, then try to boost yourself up to your knees and, eventually, onto your feet. All while trying to remember a half dozen of Michel’s hints and tips.

I’m not ashamed to admit that just the initial jump/slide up on to the board tired me quickly. In fact, within the first half hour, I had already slightly pulled an oblique muscle that has always been susceptible to awkward tugs in a new or wrong direction.

Nevertheless, I was sort of succeeding. Maybe better than the other student who was getting more of Michel’s attention but also getting frustrated. I got some pretty great, pretty fun, long wave rides into the shore — kind of like a boogie board, but faster and more stable.  In the second half of the lesson, I was able to get up and kneel on the board a few times, though I did not stand.  Honestly, the idea of getting my feet under me and rising up on the smooth board moving in the waves seemed unreal to me.  Mentally, I wasn’t even close.  

I had thought about signing up for a 2 hour lesson, but I was actually glad when Michel ended the lesson as we hit the one hour mark. I suppose I could have persisted longer but I had already used up a ton of physical energy.  (Again, this from a guy who happily goes on 4-6 hour bike rides in the mountains).  It would have been better to come back the next day and put in another hour and then maybe an hour the next day.  And again and again until I could stand up and stay there for a few seconds. Hopefully.

Here’s the thing. I’m going to surmise that for a person over 50, many physical feats are no longer realistic.  In other words, the window for learning and excelling at new advanced and/or complex physical activities is, I’m not going to say shut, but it is barely open in many cases. 

William Finnegan, author of the ur-text of a life surfing, Barbarian Days, opines that anyone who didn’t start surfing as a teenager is not ever going to be very good.  That’s a bit harsh, and Finnegan’s definition of “good surfer” might be a high mark, but I think his sentiment is right.²

I’ve no doubt that people over 50 can learn to surf.  I think with sustained effort and work, and in good ocean conditions, I probably could get up on a board and actually surf.  

But the idea of being able to do that on any kind of consistent basis and enjoy it and feel comfortable doing it– well, I think that might be nearly outside the realm of possibility for me. Plus, I don’t live close enough to an ocean.

So, would I do it again? Unlikely. For me, the risk-reward balance isn’t great. Risk a chance of injury and/or strained muscles to try to do something that I can’t really do and therefore can’t enjoy? I’m better off going on a bike ride, hiking, kayaking, or some other physical activity that gives me pleasure and where I have less chance of getting hurt.

Yet I’m happy that I did it. I didn’t actually surf, at least according to my own definition, but I learned about and tried surfing. And I got to do it in a terrific location in the warm Pacific waters off of Central America.

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1. How would it be to exist as a young, blonde, French/English speaking Belgian national hanging out in the Central American sun, teaching tourists to surf?  You could do worse. I mean, Michel is not getting rich and I wouldn’t necessarily trade places with him, but I surmise he is living some version of his best life.  I doubt he ever has trouble finding social companionship.  Eventually, Michel will probably return to northern Europe, start a stable career, and smile as he looks back on his memories of being a surf teacher on the Pacific.  Enjoy it, buddy!
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2. By the way, this book cured me of any romantic notions I had about serious surfing. Finnegan’s lifetime of chasing waves, despite some terrific highlights, sounds borderline horrible to me. Most of the best waves apparently come during the winter months so surfing for him was often seeking out good waves in frigid ocean water. He suffers frequent injuries, his eyesight is comprised from accumulated sun reflection damage, etc. etc. And much of this takes place with a constant background chance of severe injury or death.  There are at least half a dozen incidents in the book where his life was in serious danger — and he was brutally aware of it — because of wave breaks on rocks and reefs, losing daylight, exhaustion, and whatever combination of other factors. And that’s just the instances he talks about in the book.  ︎

I’ve since learned that being able to speak a language doesn’t mean you’ll be any good at teaching said language.  But I’ve also learned that motivated language students can still benefit even from an untrained, but enthusiastic teacher. 

And so there I was, every Monday night for several months, teaching the language I know to immigrants at Salt Lake City’s Guadalupe Center.  I taught small group lessons, no more than half a dozen students at a time.  Many of my students were coming straight from work and their sincere efforts to learn and make mistakes as adult learners, as well as their profuse thanks for my efforts, won my heart.¹  

Though not a professional ESL teacher myself, it helped that I had studied German and then Arabic in college.  Among other things, I knew the value of slightly slowing down my rate of speech and using familiar and simpler vocabulary especially with my beginner students.   

The time came to move back to Virginia and I said some goodbyes on my last night. Afterwards, the director of the ESL program, a gruff, “let’s just get this done” kind of guy that I had barely spoken with, hugged me.  He had never had a college student volunteer for their program.   

London. My next ESL opportunity was my only paid ESL experience.  Mrs. Anysecondnow and I – two people – were living in the UK, supported by a University of London fellowship for one. After a few months, getting low on funds, we started looking for extra work on the side.²     

Oxford Street in London has, among many other things, at least a dozen English language schools.  Going back to my “I don’t have too many skills, but I can speak English” mentality, I started knocking on (business) doors looking for side-hustle ESL work.  Not surprisingly, most of the schools would only hire someone with actual ESL teaching credentials, but one of them was willing to hire uncredentialledLooking back, it may have helped that I had a US law degree. In other words, 'Okay, this guy may not have an ESL certificate but at least he should be able to speak English correctly.' me as an on-call substitute.  

Unlike in Utah, where most of my students were older and Hispanic, I had young students from all over the globe in London.  Also, in contrast to most of the staff teachers who spoke British English, I was the slightly exotic American English-speaking substitute.  I would sometimes spend the last few minutes of class demonstrating differences between UK and American pronunciation and teaching some American slang.  They ate that up.  

One day, three students came up to me after class.  They had maybe 10 days off available to travel and decided they wanted to fly to the US and have an all-American experience.  More precisely, they wanted an all-American experience all over America – coast to coast.  What did I think? 

They just could not comprehend how big the US was. I gently explained to them that with only 10 days, they needed to focus on a particular area in the US.  I recommended California. 

“Fly to LA, rent a convertible and drive along the Pacific coast for a day or two.  You’ll feel so American you’ll be bleeding red, white, and blue.” I hope they did it.

Arlington REEP #1.  Back in the US myself, having moved from my Vienna home to Arlington, Virginia,  I volunteered to teach ESL classes for the Arlington Education and Employment Program (“REEP”).  I became kind of a permanent substitute for drop-in evening adult classes in my neighborhood.  

As always, I enjoyed the students and the teaching, but unfortunately, life got busier with work, a new daughter, and other community responsibilities. After a year, I had to quit REEP. 

Arlington Resource Center for a Better Life. Nearly 15 years later, with a little more time in my life, my church started an ESL program and I volunteered to teach.  For close to three and a half years I taught weekly classes at the Resource Center.   

Each term lasted 12 weeks and I taught classes from beginners to more advanced.  Although the student population fluctuated, most of the students were from Afghanistan, particularly at the beginner level.     

Several of my classes near the end of my time were largely filled with conservative Afghan woman who seemed intrigued by a male teacher outside of their culture. When discussing our favorite foods during one class, I mentioned how much I enjoyed the Afghan noodle soup aush. The next week one of my students brought in a pot for all of us to share. 

These women worked hard to master a new language, but I could also tell that English class for many of them was an opportunity to get out of the house and socialize with friends in their native language.  I would feel the same.  After cooking and cleaning for my family all day in the house, I can leave and hang out with my friends for the evening?  Sign me up!     

Arlington REEP #2.  After several years with the Resource Center, I wanted a change of scenery in a more professional ESL setting.  Mrs. Anysecondnow was in the midst of transitioning from a volunteer slot to a paid job with REEP and I rode her coattails to get back on as a REEP volunteer teacher.  Starting in January of this year, I ended up teaching Mrs. Anysecondnow’s former class – the Monday morning high beginner group.   

Though it had been nearly two decades, I remembered Arlington’s REEP program as a model ESL program.  I was pleased to see that it had only improved since then with even more teacher resources as well as dedicated leaders.  

My students are again from around the world, older than my London students, but as devoted to learning as my first students back in Salt Lake City.   As for me, I’m still uncredentialled, but happy to be back teaching English to people building new lives in the United States. 

So, am I changing the world teaching ESL?  Kind of. I’m changing it in the only way most of us can — doing modest, decent things in our own modest sphere of influence.  Hundreds of people can speak English better than before because I (and so many others) helped teach them. Hundreds of people got better jobs, picked up their prescription at the pharmacy, don’t have to ask their kids to translate everything, or got US residency and then US citizenship. My ESL teaching was a small part of every one of those great things.

Lately, for me, there has been another reason I like to teach ESL. There have always been Americans who demonize foreigners who come to this country looking for a better life for themselves and their families and hopefully become American themselves. For me, teaching English to immigrants has become my way of pushing back against that attitude.

In a previous post I noted how being involved in our community ameliorates feelings of helplessness. It’s hard to be completely cynical and untrusting when you’re personally out there in your community, trying to make a difference.

I taught about the symbols of the US flag in a recent ESL class. I then had the students draw pictures of their home countries’ flags and describe them to the class. In halting but understandable English, my students proudly explained how various symbols on their flags represented courage and strength or peace and purity and various other noble qualities. Not for the first time as an ESL teacher I thought to myself, they and their kids are going to be awesome Americans.

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1. If you are shallow like me and enjoy gratification, you could do worse than teaching ESL classes. The students always say thank you. Often with great sincerity. In my first ESL class this year with REEP Arlington, the students not only thanked me, but they applauded at the end of class. (This could have been a fluke.  Maybe one person clapped — or made a sound like a clap — and then everybody else joined in.  In fact, maybe some of them thought it was just an American custom to clap after the first class and didn’t want to feel left out.  It hasn’t happened again!)
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2. One of the entertaining ways we earned extra money was participating in University of London grad student medical and behavioral studies. They were always looking for volunteers and paid as much as 10-12 pounds for up to an hour of your time.  If this is starting to sound like Dr. Venkman’s ESP test in Ghostbusters, you aren’t too far off.  Neither Mrs. Anysecondnow nor I got electrocuted, but we did participate in various oddball experiments testing visual and mental aspects along with aural reactions and behavior.  Maybe we even contributed to some useful breakthroughs.
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Pay attention here: A capital is the city in the state where the capitol building sits.¹ 

Is this distinction helpful? No, it is not. English needs to choose one or the other.  C’mon, English! The two words, in my opinion, introduce an unnecessary and frustrating language variable that adds little, if any, comprehension value.

Okay, moving on from English language idiosyncracies, I’ve visited about 20 U.S. state capitol buildings over the years. Mrs. Anysecondnow and I just toured the one in Annapolis, Maryland.   

My advice is that If a state capital is your destination or reasonably on the way to your destination, you should definitely take the time to visit the capitol. 

Why?  Because, while most people are proud to be from a particular state², state legislators and governors are especially enthusiastic boosters of their state³ (as one would hope!) Consequently, they look for ways to show off their respective states’ awesomeness and their capitol building is a great vehicle to do this.  

As a result, state capitol buildings are chock full of dramatic art and statutes, inspiring historical moment markers, ornate rooms and chambers, fossils, walls of honor, and so much more. Some of the exhibits can be odd — for example, Minnesota has a gigantic gold leaf Roman victory chariot “Quadriga” on their roof — but those oddities make the visits even more interesting.

In addition, all those legislators work in the capitol and I presume they are highly motivated to allocate sufficient funds for upkeep (and golden statues).  As a result, state capitol buildings are typically impressive, gleaming buildings with high levels of workmanship. The Midwestern states particularly go all in — Nebraska, Iowa, and Wisconsin are apparently well known for their detailed interiors. (I have yet to visit them).

State capitols are always free to visit and usually happy to offer state pride freebies, stickers, pens, and so forth. Tours led by enthusiastic guides are also gratis. You’ll have to pass through security screeningExcept Texas! I hope this is still the case, but when I visited the capitol in Austin in 2009, there was no security screening. Just a lone Texas ranger (big, tall and armed) standing near the entrance doors. , but that’s easy enough.

And you better believe that every capitol building has a collection of superlatives. Oldest (MD), tallest (LA), biggest (TX, naturally), etc. And, oh, they love their domes. Biggest dome. (WI). Tallest dome. (IL). Biggest wooden dome! (MD again).

I also admire the capitols that eschew the traditional dome template and attempt something different. Sometimes it works and sometimes maybe it doesn’t, but thanks for trying to be original — we see you, Honolulu and Santa Fe.

Am I going to try to visit every U.S. state capitol building? Eh, I’m not sure about that. But whenever I’m near one, yeah, you bet I’ll stop by.

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1. Yes, the word capital has other definitions — money, an upper case letter, etc. — but for purposes of this article, I am only concerned with the seat of government definition.
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2. Most Americans, it’s fair to say, are proud to be an American to some degree.  But, many Americans are just as proud to be from a particular state, especially when talking to other Americans. For example, as a born Virginian I’ve always felt a bit of a rivalry with our neighbor across the river, Maryland, and will sometimes offer up some light trash talk to Marylanders.
    
   On that point, I concede that Maryland’s state flag is awesome — far better than Virginia’s dull “state seal surrounded by dark blue background” version. And Maryland does have a lot of fun places to visit. And crabs.  I could live in MD and be quite content.
   
   (Bias alert!) But Virginia claims eight presidents and an astounding amount of American history, particularly concentrated in the 1600-1800s from colonial times through the Civil War.  George Washington lived here, as well as Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Mason, Patrick Henry – give me liberty or death! – and more.  The Revolutionary War ended here in Yorktown and so did the Civil War at Appomattox (after dozens of major and minor battles throughout the state). And Arlington National Cemetery. Virginia offers up mountains, beaches and rolling hills, plus Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway. Not to mention a bunch of top universities led by UVA, William & Mary, and VA Tech. Virginia is for Lovers!
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3. You will not regret perusing this list of state tourism slogans. So many thoughts.
   
   Do midwestern near-neighbors Illinois and Ohio know they both have similar, weak slogans? “Middle of Everything” and “In the Heart of It All”?
   
   I sort of admire Nebraska leaning into their overlooked plight — “Nebraska, it’s not for everyone” but are you sure you want that to be your official state slogan?
   
   Or how about Oregon’s tentative “We Like It Here, You Might Too”? So humble.
   
   And what lack of creativity resulted in “Washington: The State” and “That’s Wyoming”? I have an image of some young legislative summer interns jokingly submitting “That’s Wyoming” and the legislature or marketing committee or whoever just saying, “Huh. Yeah, whatever, that sounds fine — approved!”
   
   OTOH, maybe it’s because I have skied there, but Utah’s “Greatest Snow on Earth” is pretty fun. I rather like West Virginia’s easy to say and remember “Wild and Wonderful” and the clever “Vermont, Naturally.” And give credit to “Sweet Home Alabama” for taking the easy win.
   
   Finally, I notice that Florida doesn’t have a tourism slogan listed (I suppose it might be “Welcome to the Free State of Florida”. Gag. ), but they really don’t need one. Tourists are going to vacation in Florida either way and a slogan makes no difference. In that spirit, I suggest that California — another state that gets gobs of tourists whether they want them or not — emulate Florida’s easy confidence and drop the forgettable “Dream Big.” ︎

In that spirit, I had resolved to participate, modestly, in the next No Kings demonstration this March.  I have a centrist sensibility and have voted for candidates in both major parties over the decades, but have been dismayed by many actions of the current administration.  

I knew there would be many thousands of participants in my local area of northern Virginia and Washington DC, so why not ride my bike down and exercise my rights to make my voice and presence known for a little while? 

And then I realized I’d be in Texas on the day of the protest, not near DC.  Deep in the heart of Texas.  A red state, oooh.   

If I showed up, would there be just a handful of people, waving a few signs?  Would there be counter-protesters yelling at us?  Would local police give us a hard time?   

Having a few extra hours that morning, I resolved to check it out. I drove over to the downtown Frisco, TX intersection that the No Kings website had identified.  The event was supposed to be from 9-11am.  I didn’t know what the “event” would be.  Marching?  Chanting?  Confrontation?  

At 8:45am, I arrived. There was nobody there, nothing going on. I drove a little farther, parked, ate most of a Wendy’s sausage breakfast burrito, and decided to walk over to the intersection. Maybe a few people would eventually show up.  Even if there were only a dozen of us, that’s okay.  I figured they’d be happy to have an out-of-town Virginian join them.

Or maybe the whole event just fizzed.  This is Texas, right? 

How wrong I was.

As I got out of my car, like fireflies at night, everywhere I looked around me, I started to notice groups of two or three people walking with signs.  Ah, I thought, maybe there will be more than a dozen people.

I made my way over and saw about 50 people on my side of the street with signs and American flags.  On the other side of the street were dozens more.  Traffic passing by bleated out honks and drivers waved, triggering scattered cheers from our group.  

Not for the first time that morning, I felt just a bit emotional.  What a lovely thing to see people gathering on an unusually cool Texas Saturday morning to make their voices heard. 

I didn’t do much.  I had no sign and didn’t want one.  I just wanted to be present physically, chat with some people, and participate in my own way.  At least I could say I was there.

The crowds grew and by 9:30am, I counted hundreds of peopleFWIW, a Dallas Morning News Facebook post stated “over 200” people showed up in Frisco. That was accurate. Sort of. It was definitely over 200. My informal count was probably double that. Several commenters on the post claimed nearly 600 which I could believe since people were still arriving when I left. lining both sides of the street.  No marching and only a little chanting by a few enthusiastic groups.  My kind of protest.  

There were no counter-protestors.  Several of Frisco’s finest were there.  They were friendly.  Their vibe was “we’re just here to make sure things stay peaceful”. They were the opposite of intimidating. 

Someone had a bubble machine going, a DJ set up some music and the party was on by the time I had to leave a little while later.  The whole time, Texas drivers were continually honking and waving their support.  

Whatever your political persuasion, getting involved is good.  It’s hard to be completely cynical and untrusting when you’re personally out there in your community, trying to make a difference. It infuses you with a feeling of the power of being a citizen.   

It’s tempting to think we are powerless and can’t do anything to change things. But almost nothing changes unless individuals try to do something. There’s no outside power or secret cabal reaching in that’s going to change things for us. It’s just us. It always has been.

There are places in the world where it takes real bravery to make your voice heard. And I understand that some feel afraid to go out and protest due to immigration status or fears of repercussions. But for the vast majority of us, including me, it’s a minimal risk endeavor.  I’m glad I did it.

When I drove away, I made sure to drive back down the street in my rented, non-protest-looking white sports car and honk and wave my support at everybody.  I got lots of cheers.

But beyond that federal, muesum-y core, Washington DC is a big-time city.  There is never an end to things to do in DC .  A new Hirshorn Museum exhibit, a Georgian (the one in the Caucacus, not the US South) restaurant, a play at the intimate Arena Stage, paddle-boarding under the Key Bridge, the Red Cross memorial garden pocket park, a parade (or a protest!), a view of the Mall from the US Capitol steps, a statue of a cat balancing on a top hat on the foot of a boy balancing on a girl, and more and more and endless more. 

Here’s a random DC day of mine from last week.

The Washington Post put out a list of DC’s best sandwiches.  The “G Man” at Mangialardo’s Italian Deli in DC caught my eye. Let’s check it out.  But as long as I’m in DC for a sandwich, what else should I do?  

You may have heard about a national founding of our country 250th birthday celebration going on this yearI was too young for the 1976 Bicentennial party, but I'm here for this one!.  Among dozens of commemorations, I noted a blurb for the National Arboretum.  The Arboretum, run by the US Department of Agriculture, is a research facility/public garden, well known around these parts for its overflowing late spring azaleas and it’s leftover Greek Corinthian-style US Capitol columns.  

There are also bonsai at the Aboretum.  Amazing bonsai. 

Like some of you probably, my first bonsai moment derives from some Mr. Miyagi Karate Kid wisdom.  According to Mr. Miyagi, all you need to do is picture the tree and then cut it. “If come from inside you, always right one“, he respondsMaybe in a few years, English will evolve into Miyagi-speak. Clearly we don't need all those extraneous subjects and verbs. to Daniel-san’s concern.  I suspect — hope?– the National Arboretum approach to caring for their bonsai is more sophisticated than Mr. Miyagi’s approach. But maybe not? 

Anyway, I’ve got a plan. I’ll grab a G-Man sandwich, eat it at the Arboretum overlooking the Capitol columns, and then check out the bonsai.

One could drive downtown and do all of this, but where’s the fun in that?  Much more interesting to pick up the Metro from Virginia, ride to Potomac Avenue in the Capitol Hill neighborhood, stop by Mangialardo’s, get the sandwich, and then ride a Capitol BikeShare bike to the Arboretum.  

My plan works. I quickly find the sandwich place. You just know a slightly dingy looking storefront like this is just focused on making lots of good food. They don’t need to update the decor.

After a 20 minute ride through interesting DC neighborhoods, only getting lost (briefly) once, I ride into the open gates of the Arboretum. I pedal around a bit on the sunny roads, enjoying the views, then find a shady bench with a view. How’s this for a lunch spot: 

After riding more around the quiet and nearly deserted Arboretum, I drop off my bike and walk over to the bonsai tree exhibit. 

This exhibit is a DC treasure.  The website says its the finest bonsai museum in the world.  I’ve not been to any other bonsai museums that I can recall, so I can’t say whether that is true or not, but it is amazing.  The setting and architecture frame the small living masterpieces like pictures in frames. 

And, like many things in DC, it’s all free.  There’s not even a security line or tickets.  You just walk in and enjoy.  And I did. 

After getting my fill of bonsai and other peaceful Asian exhibits of rocks and scrolls, I ride my bikeshare bike back to Stadium-Armory Metro for the trip across the river and back to Virginia. 

Riding to the Metro, I needed to pull out into a lane to make a left turn toward the station.  I turned my head to check behind me and saw a car approaching.  The lady driving saw me look and perceived that I wanted to move to the left.  She slowed down and waved for me to go in front of her. 

There are kind people all around us.   

I was decent enough but not particularly talented at most sports – basketball, baseball, and tennis mostly. I quit soccer less than halfway into my first season. 

I wasn’t a super talented runner either but was good enough in high school to letter in cross country and track.  I broke 5 minutes in the mile a few times and I was proud of that. I could always run.

Meanwhile, an American, Greg LeMond, was winning the Tour de France in 1986 and in 1989LeMond's come from behind 1989 victory in the last stage to win the Tour by 7 seconds is all timer sporting moment. He even got an SI Sportsman of the Year win out of it. -90.   My Mom and I followed his victories.  Inspired, I asked for a road bike for my high school graduation to replace my old 10 speed bike I bought with my paper route money in 6th grade. Though I returned to running a few times in college and law school, I never stopped biking.  

I’ve commuted to work by bike a few times a week since 2001.  I did my first century ride in 2002 and even joined a local racing team for a few years.  I’ve been riding between 4 and 5K miles (almost 6K ! in pandemic year 2020) a year for a while and hope to keep riding as long as I can keep my balance.

Why Is Cycling So Great?

Low Impact.  I’ve been fortunate, but so far, I have never had a bicycle-related injury.  (Big caveat here, as I’ll note below, that this doesn’t include crashes.)   As a former runner, even as a teenage high schooler, there was nearly always something hurting. Some nagging injury that I could run through but annoyed me. Ankle, knee, shin splints, my hip once. 

That’s far less common with cycling. When I chat with other cyclists, there is much discussion about many topics, but very little about cycling-derived maladies. 

You can see so much.  At the risk of making this is a “why running stinks” article, another thing I immediately loved about cycling was how much farther you can go.  With running, you’re kind of limited to a range of a few miles from your house.  

But on a bike, I’ve explored the entire DC area on rides.  As one small example, I’ve done the first-rate 50 States ride route where you cycle into seemingly every corner of DC to visit all 50 streets named after US states.   

I’ve also done guided bike expeditions in or around Pureora Forest, New Zealand; Panajachel, Guatemala; Tblisi, Georgia; and Canyonlands NP, Utah.  What a fun way to explore a beautiful place, meet new people, and, most importantly, burn a ton of calories and then eat good food at the end of the day. 

Great tourist fun.  Related to “see lots of stuff on a bike” above, when visiting a new place, I often try to rent a bike.  The first thing I look for is a bikeshare program (Chicago, NYC, San Francisco, Pittsburgh, San Antonio, Frankfurt, Sydney, to name a few). If not, I might try to rent a bike for a day (Charleston, Pensacola, and Siem Reap).  In fact, if I can’t easily get around by bike in a city, that is a strike against the city to me.

On a bike, you can see a lot of city and area in less time. You don’t have to worry about parking, you get some exercise, and you get to feel more like a local than a tourist.  And you can bicycle almost anywhere in the world.

Health benefits.  Maybe this should be #1.  Any exercise is good and cycling is a great one.  A bicycle ride can be an intense anaerobic interval workout or a long, aerobic ride or anything in between.   For me, cycling is an exercise that I look forward to and enjoy doing.    

Smooth speed is fun. I love the feeling of speeding along a paved road on my bike.  On a road bike, most people can get up to 15 mph without much trouble on a flat road or trail.  Or just pedal along easily at 10 mph.  Whatever you want. 

Slower speed (or not so slow) on mountain bikes is also fun.  Or on gravel.  Or on a beach boardwalk.  It’s all fun. On the exercise trails near my house, cyclists are often smiling, calling out to their friends.  Runners are grimacing.

Group Rides. After several years of going fast by myself, I tried some century and group rides. It opened my eyes.  It’s exhilarating being in a group of experienced cyclists.  The aerodynamics of the group or paceline increase your speed without any extra effort. 

Saturday morning group rides are now an almost weekly highlight.  On these rides, we are easily moving among each other, wordlessly rotating through a paceline, maneuvering for position, and sometimes competing to be the quickest up the hill.  After the ride, pleasantly tired, we share stories, eat pizza, or pastries, or both, then slowly ride home. 

And there you have it.  Bicycling is awesome.  Healthy, fun, exhilarating, seeing new places.  

Case closed? 

Well, there are a few downsides.   

The Cons

Cyclists are jerks. Not me personally. Hopefully.  But many cyclists, especially in groups, can be inconsiderate.  Wearing their stupid, colorful, Lance Armstrong-wanna-be outfits while running stop signs and red lights.  Passing people too close and too fast on exercise trails.  Bullies! 

Crashing.  There is a danger element to cycling that is mostly absent from, say, running.  A cyclist can reduce their crash risk by not riding at night (or using lots of lights if they do), not doing stupid things on the road, and being situationally aware, especially when approaching intersections.   

But, the reality is you can do everything right and still get hit by a car. It can be a minor incident, but sometimes it’s devastating. You can even die. 

Fortunately, most crashes in cycling happen without any extra help from a car.  Again, even if you do everything right, you could accidentally get tangled up with another rider or, like me, blow out your front tire on a rock hidden in the shadows and go down.  You may not get seriously hurt and you won’t die, but when you hit the ground, your body is going to feel it– often some road rash and/or deeper cuts and bruises. Sometimes even broken bones.   

In 40-some years of riding, I’ve hit the ground at least a dozen times. Fortunately, only two incidents resulted in lasting trauma.  The first was a broken foot from an unlucky 1mph rolling-off-a-DC-curb incident.  And the other is the aforementioned tire blowout from a rock, which resulted in crashing into a ditch, slicing up my face (7 stitches total) and gouging the side of my knee so badly (8 staples from the ER) that I needed an ambulance. It looked like I’d taken a lathe to it. 

Expense.  Cycling can be a great value.  Get a bike, maybe even a used one from Facebook Marketplace, and ride it a lot.  You’re good to go.  Fun and healthy!   

However, most cyclists end up going deeper.  Way deeper. Somebody is buying those $10K+ magical carbon fiber bicycles.   

Besides the bike, good cycling equipment – the clothes, the pedals, helmets, computers and HR monitors, tires, water bottles, gloves, pumps, and more and more –  is not cheap.  Much of it is foreign made and the recent, pointless tariffs have made it worse.  I bought a $110 German made tire a few months ago (I had a 50% discount from the shop, but still . . .$110?)        

I will say that you usually get good value in cycling equipment. I’ve got clothes from 10-12 years ago that remain in good condition and I still wear them.  My single favorite article of cycling clothing is an Italian-made winter jacket. It was pricy, even on sale, but when the temperature drops into the 30s and below, this jacket is worth every dollar. 

I love how the jacket is tight in the wrong places when I stand, but as soon as I mount my bike and lean over the handlebars, it settles in just right. Just like bicycling and me.

But I do think Back to the Future (hereafter “BTTF”) could be the most fun-to-watch movie ever made.¹  

Let me be candid here.  I am hopelessly biased towards BTTF.  I saw it as a 13 year old, right in those early adolescent, high imprint years.  I watched it with my parents — we were Family Ties fans — on opening night in one of those now rare, gigantic single-screen theaters with probably a thousand other excited people.  We laughed, we groaned, we cheered.  American cinema entertainment at its finest.  

But being hopelessly biased doesn’t mean I’m wrong!  

Nor am I alone in my BTTF esteem. IMDB slots BTTF in at #30 on their redoubtable top 250 movie list. Wikipedia says audiences and critics consider BTTF “among the best films ever made.”  (Hmm, maybe people are comparing BTTF to Godfather or Citizen Kane.) This guy says it is his all time favorite film. Some folks on Reddit think BTTF is the perfect movie.  So do these Redditors.

A Collider list of 10 Best Crowd Pleasing Movies has BTTF at #10.  I’d  say “crowd pleasing” is close enough to my “most fun-to-watch” standard.²  

So why do I think BTTF is the most fun movie to watch? 

Script and pacing. BTTF is one of those movies where everything works. There’s not a single clunky or boring moment.  You can’t wait to find out what happens next. 

Much credit for this goes to the stellar script and pacing. For example, the movie opens with dozens of ticking clocks, some overflowing dog food, a plutonium reference, all of which sound a bit dull on the page, but watching on the screen, it’s not.  You’re wondering, “What’s the deal with all those clocks?” 

A minute or two later we laugh as Marty, with his tiny yellow electric guitar, blows himself backwards by the hilariously oversized speaker.  Then a frantic, cryptic phone call from Doc (who is this Doc? we wonder), the clocks all ring at once– oh no, Marty is late for school!  Cue Huey Lewis’ rock anthem “The Power of Love” and we are hooked. 

We still don’t know the plot or anything about a time machineWhoever came up with using a sports car that has to hit 88 mph for a time machine instead of the usual “step into a box-like thing, turn the dial and travel” was a genius. but it doesn’t matter. 

Sometimes movies just work.  

Actors. Besides a great script and pacing, BTTF benefits from Michael J. FoxIncredibly, MJF was, for several months, doing Family Ties during the day and BTTF at night. He slept in the car driving him between sets and a luminous Lea Thompson in their Hollywood primes.  Like the audience, they’re having a great time in the middle of a rollicking plot that never lets up.  

The supporting actors are all gold, highlighted by zany Christopher Lloyd and the earnest Crispin Glover. Seriously, did anyone in this movie — from Michael and Lea down to the “Save the clock tower!” lady – ever have a better career highlight than their BTTF role?  

I’d like to pause here for a moment and posit that Marty’s father, George McFly, is the hidden core of BTTF.  When Marty McFly successfully gets back home to 1985, he is still the same person.  He just has a more successful family and a sweet Toyota truck – basically his teenage dreams came true.  But his father, George, is transformed.    

I mean, he knocks outI didn’t see that knockout coming until the moment it happened.  Like everybody else, I was waiting for Marty or somebody – Lorraine? –  to intervene and save George. Biff! 

Moreover, Glover’s acting is next level – Michael J. Fox even agrees.  Glover plays three distinct characters – the pathetic, older George McFly (that laugh!); the younger, energetic, but unpopular (yet undeniably kind of cute– you can envision Lorraine liking him) version of George McFly; and then at the end,  the confident and successful older version of George.³  He’s hilarious in the first two roles, and downright inspiring in the third.  (Shout out here to Lea Thompson who also plays three different characters – old and tired Lorraine, randy young Lorraine, and older Lorraine now married to a successful George.)   

Heart. BTTF has heart, that ineffable element that can’t be forced. We care about these characters. We’re rooting for George McFly. We hope Doc Brown survives the Libyans. And we love the bond between Marty and Doc Brown. Even though the pairing makes no sense — Marty is a high school slacker who wants to be a rock star and Doc is an odd-ball gifted scientist. We still care.

Combine that script and plot with actors in their prime cast in roles that seem made for them, a bit of movie-magic dust in all the right places, and you have the most-fun-to-watch movie ever.  

The great thing about BTTF is that you don’t have to be a child of the ’80s to adore it. My dadMy Dad (RIP 1939-2022) always cracked up when Christopher Lloyd popped out of the DeLorean at the end, dressed wildly in 2015 styles, silver sunglasses and all., a child of the ’50s, loved it. And my daughter, a child of the 2010s, loves it also.  She even has a Lego model of the BTTF DeLorean.

In 2015, we attended a BTTF 30th anniversary screening with live National Symphony Orchestra accompaniment at Wolf Trap National Park. Several DeLoreans (one of them had a replica Flux Capacitor and time travel read-outs like the movie) were parked at the entrance and Lea Thompson and director Robert Zemeckis showed up.  The concert hall and outdoor lawn area were packed with over 7000 people of all ages.     

The most fun-to-watch movie ever has to have a fun ending.  And the BTTF ending— are you kidding me? Epic. The truck, the girlfriend, and Doc’s flippant finale, “Roads?  Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.Ronald Reagan – who knew his way around a good line –  later quoted this in a State of the Union speech.” Boom!  The whole theater cheered.  Many of us still are.

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1. I’d say BTTF is a great answer to the question: Why do we make movies?  In other words, if an alien visitor to our planet were to ask, “hey, humans, I’ve been wondering, what is up with this whole movie thing?  Why do you make and watch so many of these two hour things?” you could do worse than handing them BTTF and say “just watch this.”
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2. If I may quibble, the Collider list contains several movies on their list that are terrific movies but I’m not sure I would not place them in the crowd pleaser (or fun to watch) category.  Casablanca (#6), Lord of the Rings (#2)? Hmm. Their #1 is The Shawshank Redemption.  I love Shawshank. One might even argue that it is in the discussion for one of the greatest movie ever made – IMDB famously has it #1 on their top movies list –  but I hesitate to call it a  “crowd pleaser’.  Or fun to watch. It takes place in a prison. Innocent people die.  I’d hesitate to show Shawshank to kids under 16.
   
   Crowd-pleasers should be fun!  A rollicking good time.  You should feel some suspense, but not stressed.  Good guys shouldn’t die (permanently).  There don’t need to be any deep messages along the lines of the Power of Friendship.  Or Of Love.  In fact, there probably shouldn’t be too much deep thinking at all.  
   
   A crowd pleaser — you’re just there for to laugh and cheer and maybe walk out of the theater giving high fives to your friends.  Collider lists Princess Bride at #5.  Yes, that’s what I’m talking about. Star Wars at #3, sure.  Top Gun: Maverick (#9), yes.  Crowd pleasers all.  
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3.  Apparently Glover could be difficult to work with and had his own ideas about the how the movie should develop, even disagreeing with the happy ending.  He drove director Zemeckis nuts. And he didn’t participate in the rest of the trilogy (stories vary why).  Fun fact: when the studio used Glover’s digital likeness without his permission in BTTF 2, he sued and won a big victory that every actor should be thankful for – their images may not be used without compensation. ︎

Cleaning out my folders as I prepared to leave my federal job last year, I came upon this legal size paper:

Yeah, you have to squint.  I have tiny handwriting. 

Anyway, these numbers look to be from 2005 or 2006.  The Bush II administration!   

The meaning of some of my decades ago scribblings is lost on me now, but on the top I am clearly projecting out federal GS scale salaries and savings for the next 8 years or so.¹ 

Most interestingly, in the bottom left are some of my past and projected government Thrift Savings Plan (TSP) contributions.  From this “historical document” it’s interesting to see that I did not “max out” my retirement contributions until 2007.  It appears I was at least contributing enough to get the full 5% agency match (smart!) but I guess I felt like maybe we didn’t have the budget to do more until a few years later.  

Nevertheless, my final TSP balance at retirement was more than I would have imagined back then. Nor is my experience unique for feds who pushed money into the TSP throughout their career. Nearly 3% of all participants are TSP millionaires. ²

I don’t recall thinking much about “what is my TSP going to be worth when I retire in the 2030s?”  It was too far off.  I don’t even recall monitoring my balances very closely although I know I looked at the year end account update mailed from TSP.

My TSP was just there and growing and I figured it’d be good to have it someday in the future.  It wasn’t until 2020, approaching 20 years of federal service and suddenly the reality of retirement starting to appear, that I remember thinking “wow, that TSP balance is turning into real money”. (I’m building a wealth snowball!)

I started paying more attention.

Little did I know, back in the early 2000s, that regularly contributing as much as I could, staying heavily in the TSP stock funds, especially the “C” fund, and benefiting from a long running bull market would gradually, then suddenly, push the balance so much higher.

Lessons learned. Like probably everyone else, I look back and think, ” Wow, if only I could have contributed even more 20-25 years ago, think how much higher my TSP could be now!” But just contributing something in early years, when times may be leaner, is an achievement. Looking back, I think we were doing as much as we could. That’s the most important thing.³

Which brings us to Lesson Two: time in market is better than timing the market. It sure is more realistic. Those long ago contributed dollars compound mightily through the years and can dwarf later contributions at the end of your career.

In other words, the smaller annual sums (I only put in $570 in 2001!) I contributed long ago, compounded over 25 years, are mightier today than the entire $32,500 employees over 50 like me could have contributed in 2025. In fact, once a TSP overall balance approaches $1M and beyond, a really good or bad day in the market (depending on your fund allocations) can change the TSP balance more than an entire years worth of payroll contributions.

Lesson Three, as I noted in my earlier FIRE post, is to reduce your expenses so that your extra dollars are first going to maxing out your retirement contributions before other things. The savings you enjoy from buying a used car or smaller home can be invested and then compound over the years.

The financial projections I did on that old piece of legal sized paper weren’t necessarily accurate. But I would say accuracy in this case doesn’t matter as much. Just that I was doing them at all (even if I was doing them while sitting against the wall in a staff meeting), and thinking about the still far off future was what mattered. I’d like to thank my 30 something year old self!

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1. It looks like I plugged in a 3.5% annual inflation rate for my GS scale salary predictions.  The Great Recession of 2008-09 and a subsequent few years of very low (or no) inflation cut into my projection. Instead of $155K, a GS-15 step 6 salary ended up at just over $149K.  Close enough. ︎
2. There are probably over 200K TSP millionaires and that’s doesn’t count already retired folks who had over $1M in their TSP account but subsequently rolled out all or most of it to outside investment accounts. ︎
3. My “lessons learned” are not novel. It is pretty standard financial advice from many sources. Anyone who can avoid the temptations of get rich quick schemes or trying to time the market can do this and build wealth.
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Why, thank you for asking.  Yes, you absolutely should!  

I’m a fan of language immersion programs.  If you can’t live in a country long term, an immersion experience is the next best thing to improve your language skills quickly. 

I’ve been studying Spanish since 2014, poco a poco, little by little, as they say. I’ve reached a point where I can say pretty much what I want to say in Spanish now.  And even though my syntax may not always be how a native speaker might say it, they can understand me and I can understand them.  On the CEFR (Common European Framework of Reference) scale, I’d say I’m a solid B2 and can even edge into C1 territory from time to time. (Or, unfortunately, screw up and lapse into B1 or less.) 

I’m going to write a future post about my thoughts on the best language acquisition strategies based on my personal trial and error experiences (I’ve also studied Arabic and some German) as well as conversations with dozens of other language students.  But this post is just about my recent 2.5 weeks in Guatemala learning Spanish and having fun. 

And if you’re an adult language learner, having some fun is important. If not the whole point. Otherwise, why bother?  No one is forcing you to learn a foreign language. 

Fortunately, it’s hard not to have fun in a Spanish speaking country hanging out with other language students and interacting with native speakers. 

I’ve now done three two-week language immersions in the last few years.  The first was in Heredia, Costa Rica and the last two in Antigua, Guatemala.   I plan to keep doing them, hopefully every year or so.  Ideally during the North American winter monthsIt was, no joke, like 9 degrees, and the streets here still filled with ice and snow, when my daughter dropped me off at DCA airport at 630am for my flight south.  Barely six hours later I was enjoying 72 degrees in Guatemala City. .  

In the future I’d like to try programs in Colombia and maybe in the the easy to say, fiendishly hard to spell town of Oaxaca, Mexico. But for this trip, I returned to the same Antigua language school, Maximo Nivel (“highest level”) that I used before in 2024.  Maximo is one of probably a dozen or so language schools in Antigua.   And Antigua is a great town:

In my experience, language schools operate pretty similarly. You choose how many weeks you want to stay – most students are there between one and six weeks – and then you pay a per week tuition along with weekly room and board with a local host family.  The family provides you a daily breakfast and dinner. You can do what you want for lunch. Most students enjoy eating their way through Antigua’s many restaurants. I sure did.

One can skip the host family and stay in a hotel on your own dime, but then you lose out on lots of language speaking opportunities and the fun of getting to know your family.¹

In South or Central America, none of this should be particularly expensive.  In Guatemala, it’s downright cheap.  A standard plan in Antigua of 20 hours of Spanish classes a week plus room and board with a host family costs around $300 per week.  That’s not a typo. The language learning value and fun per dollar is fantastic.     

So how was my experience?  

I arrived on a Saturday afternoon, got picked up at the airport by Maximo (included in their program fees) and was driven to my family in Antigua. I had asked to be within walking distance of the school and they put me in southern part of the city, a relatively quiet zone, and about 15 minutes walk to school.  Perfect.  

That night, I strolled around the town in shirt sleeves, just because I could, then returned for dinner at 7pm and met the other student staying in my house, Rhonda, a 60-something Canadian, halfway through her own 6 week immersion program.  In past language experiences, I’ve lived with other students whose Spanish was so basic they could barely converse.  Happily, Rhonda, though still at a beginner level, was enthusiastic to practice with me and the family. 

The next day, I hiked to Pacaya Volcano with a small group from Maximo.  One of Antigua’s main charms is that it is picturesquely surrounded by volcanoes, both active and dormant. Volcan Pacaya erupts periodically, but usually in a Hawaii-volcano style with languorous, slow-moving lava that is fun to watch rather than an “oh no, run for your lives” Vesuvius-style eruption. 

At present, Pacaya offers hot spots from its last eruption in 2021, but whereas a few years ago tourists could roast marshmallows or even cook pizza over the emerging heat and steam, now it is just a good spot to lightly warm your hands.  Our marshmallows remained unroasted and I eventually tossed mine to a delighted local dog following our group.         

Every Monday at the school there is a great sorting of current and arriving students into that week’s classes according to various students’ language proficiency.  I don’t like to brag, but I will anyway – I was placed into the advanced class with three other students:  Laura from Germany, Daniela from Canada, and Francisco, an American mid-westerner.  I’d say Daniela, born in France, but having lived in Canada for most of her 70 or so years, was the best of us. She had a fine accent and could read out loud as fast as a native speaker.     

While some students arrange for only one-on-one private lessons, most attend group classes from 9am-1pm M-F.  That sounds like a lot of hours, and maybe it is, but the teachers are good at keeping classes fun and interesting.  Our first hour was mostly talking about what we did yesterday, plans for the future and various day-to-day topics with our teacher, Alma, tossing in corrections as needed.  

Next we’d review homework, explore grammar constructions in more depth, and then read about and discuss various current day topics – immigration, euthanasia, modern medicine advances (light topics!) and so forth.

Many students supplemented the morning group classes with another hour or two of private lessons in the afternoons.  Having tried extra private lessons in prior immersion experiences, I declined this time, preferring freedom for the rest of the day.  Instead of afternoon private classes, I supplemented my group lessons with unstructured conversations while walking around the town, going to the gym, getting a haircut, shopping, trying out new restaurants, and hanging out with my host family or their live-in staff. 

Almost as — if not more — important as the classes and study in language schools is “what are you doing for the weekend?” Nearly every student makes plans for one or more weekend excursions.

For my first weekend, I had tentatively planned to join a guided trek up the dormant Volcan Acatenango in order to get a close up view of erupting Volcan Fuego.  I had done this epic overnight hike the last time I was in Antigua. Watching Volcan Fuego explode throughout the day and night was one of the travel highlights of my life and I figured I might as well do it again.  

But then I start thinking more. First, it’s a hard-core hike.  Six or so hours backpacking up a steep trail to the campsite, then spend a night at 12000 feet not getting much sleep thanks to the cold, the altitude, and explosions from Fuego.  Wake up early and climb higher for the sunrise and then hike back down for a quad and leg busting few hours. Drive back to Antigua and stagger back home.

As if that weren’t enough, the Maximo travel agent mentioned that night-time temperatures at the top of Acantenango had been dropping below freezing.  Sheesh. Then, later that morning, I got a text from a new friend who had left Antigua the day before to enjoy the waves, sand, and sun of El Paredon beach about two and half hours south.  She sent photos.

A specific A or B decision started to form in my head: for this coming weekend, would I rather freeze my tush off on a volcano (that I’ve already visited) or hang out at the beach?

A few days later, around 4pm on Saturday, floating in the pool at my modest hotel near the beach, reflecting on a great kayak trip that morning, and now sipping a fruity drink, I knew I had made the right decision.  : )  

Back in my same class on Monday morning, I was already, with some regret, counting the days until the end.  I made sure to enjoy Maximo school’s courtyard and balconies where I sat in the sun every morning, surrounded by vegetation and flowers, watching volcanoes puff smoke in the distance.  This is as lovely as it sounds. 

And it’s even lovelier in February when I can pull up the weather app on my phone and compare the temperature back home in Arlington. 

Following my last class on Friday, I took a shuttle from Antigua to Panajachel, gateway town to Lake Atitlan.  Lurching around narrow Guatemalan mountain curves in a packed minibus with 30 other tourists for over two hours, top heavy with luggage strapped to the bus roof, I found myself thinking comforting, logical thoughts like, “I’m sure our driver regularly checks and replaces his brake pads and fluid.” 

Fortunately, it wasn’t yet my time to careen off a Guatemalan mountainside and we arrived safely. I spent a final four days kayaking, biking, hiking, and steam-bath-soaking in various towns around Atitlan and among the soaring volcano backdrops.

So, amidst the biking, kayaking, and narrow-mountain-road surviving, did my Spanish improve? Yeah, definitely. Like anything else, improvements become more incremental as you progress, but I was definitely feeling like a quicker and smoother Spanish speaker at the end of my 17 days.

I was also able to better nail down tricky verb conjugations like the preterito pluscuamperfecto² and the Spanish system of direct and indirect object placement either before the verb or, in certain cases, tacked on to the end of the verb. Doing all that Spanish in a warm and beautiful place made it even better.

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1. Living with a host family is not necessarily luxurious but I had my own room with a dresser, desk, and private bathroom. I could move around the house freely; for example, sitting in the sunny courtyard every afternoon to do do my homework.  It’s a pretty good set-up. 
   
   Also, these language schools know their clientele is coming from North America and Europe – no one is living on dirt floors and taking cold bucket showers! As a bonus, I could also ask my host family to check some of my homework which they were delighted to do.
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2. Generally equivalent to the English “If I would have done “such and such” thing/activity, then . . . Or if that thing/action would have happened, then . . .” ︎