A young Guatemalan boy stares at me, his dark eyes wide and inquisitive. I glance up from the pages of my book and he hurriedly looks out at the buildings rushing by, cheeks reddening slightly. We continue this charade for a few minutes as the bus trundles along, but before long we are engaged in conversation. I intrigue him. Where have I come from? What am I reading? How many volcanoes are there where I live? My answer is met with an incredulous titter. What do you mean there are no volcanoes in England?